Past Part Fills Part 2 -- CLOSED

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Hot n Cold (UsUk) [1/3]

[(Anonymous)]

Original fill is here: http://hetalia-kink.livejournal.com/10960.html?thread=20399824#t20399824

Basically, America is tired of England being all tsun~ so he sings "Hot n Cold" by Katy Perry to him. I may or may not have shamelessly gotten 67% of my inspiration by watching the music video and then fitted it to Hetalia. >_> Here it is, in case you want to listen with the fic: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y-LhyAVzDBI

Also this is anon's first time on the kink meme (and filling a past request no less) so please tell me if I have done something wrong so that I may at least attempt to fix it (although I'll probably just make it worse. @_@)

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

America stood squarely, facing England, looking him straight in the eye with a piercing sky blue glare.

“So, do you or do you not?” he repeated, his gaze remaining steady.

“I… ah, um… don’t know what to say,” England spluttered weakly in reply, all the while blushing to the tips of his ears. He could not believe that America was asking him this in the middle of a world meeting. And in front of what was quite literally the entire world. “I don’t know?”

“That’s not an answer Arthur,” groaned the American, taking a step toward the other man. “When someone asks you to be their boyfriend, you can say yes, or you can say no.”

“Ah, well, you see it’s complicated—” England started, only to be cut off by America.

“It wasn’t complicated last night,” America countered smartly. “I’m pretty sure that you sat in my lap, told me you loved, and then we spent the rest of the night having smexytimes.” America grinned knowing this would fluster the Brit to no end, and he got exactly the reaction he was expecting.

“For your information, I was bloody drunk at the time, and what I said may not have a thing to do with the way I feel!” snapped Arthur, glaring fiercely as Hungary squealed with delight and France and Prussia (what the hell was he doing here?) wolf whistled.

America sighed and suddenly the shorter man and thought he saw a flash of green light fill the room, but it was so brief that he thought he must have imagined it. England had no time to ponder further over this odd phenomenon, however, because suddenly something very strange happened.

Specifically, an annoying yet catchy techno/pop beat came out of nowhere and America began to back him against the table of the conference room they were in while the other nations began to bob their head in time with the music. As England leaned back to try and preserve at least some of his personal space, America grinned in a way that scared him very much and began to sing.


“You change your mind,” sang America as he reached down and tapped England flirtatiously on the nose,”Yeah you,” America shifted to the side and pushed England into one of the spinning chairs around the conference table “PMS, Like a bitch. I would know.”

England was shocked beyond the point where he could properly respond so he just stared as America continued on.

“And you, Over-think, Always speak, Cryptically.”

England found his chair being spun as that bloody git sang on and the reality of what was happening slowly began to sink it. He nearly jumped a foot in the air as America stooped the chair’s spinning by slamming his foot down right between Arthur’s legs. England suddenly feared for both his life and his manhood.

“I should know, That you're no good for me,” he sang brazenly, sporting that cocky I-am-going-to-get-you grin. England decided that it was now time to run. He sprang up, pushed past the American and dashed out toward the double doors of the conference room, running into other nations as he went. All the while, he could hear America’s footsteps following him as the singing continued.

“Cause you're hot then you're cold, You're yes then you're no, You're in and you're out, You're up and you're down.”

Re: Hot n Cold (UsUk) [1b/3]

[(Anonymous)]

England burst through the doors, almost crushing poor Sealand who was unfortunate enough to be trying to sneak into the meeting at that moment. America continued in hot pursuit with the rest of the world not following far behind as England ran down the meeting room’s seemingly endless hallway, hoping to find some safe haven. Unfortunately, America was significantly faster than him.

You're wrong when it's right, It's black and it's white, We fight, we break up, We kiss, we make up,” America sang as he caught England around the waist. The Brit struggled against the American’s strong grip as America gave him a peck on the cheek. At that, England turned a brilliant shade of red and elbowed America in the gut and ran like hell, knocking over the Baltics as he went.

“You!”

England could not believe that America was still chasing him… wait what the hell?! There was no way. Was that really…?

“You don't really want to stay, no.”

It was. Oh my fucking god America was chasing him on a fucking segway.

“You! But you don't really want to go-oh.”

America sped up and England kicked it in the gear. No way in hell was he being attacked by that freak and his bloody segway.

“You're hot then you're cold, You're yes then you're no, You're in and you're out, You're up and you're down.”

After running into Spain and squishing the tomatoes that the brown haired man was holding and getting chased by an extremely angry Romano all the while still pursued by singing!America on his segway (Was he really so out of shape that he needed that thing to propel him around?) Finally, England rounded a corner to find a door that he could most likely hide behind. He ducked in before either that tomato bastard or the singing git could round the corner, see him, and chase him into the room.

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Okay, so threeish or so parts to follow probably within the week. This is already longer than I thought. @_@

A Romantic Day Out [1/5]

[(Anonymous)]

Original request: http://hetalia-kink.livejournal.com/4567.html?thread=6538199#t6538199

I have two ongoing fills already. So naturally, I decide to sit down and fill yet another prompt. I was only able to fill the "sex in a thunderstorm" part and not the "hot bath + cuddling" aftermath, but hopefully it's still fluffy and smutty enough to be reasonably good.

---

When Greece told Japan that he wanted to take him out to one of his beaches for the day, Japan couldn’t help but feel slightly apprehensive as he had heard about Greek beaches typically having two qualities that weren’t exactly up his alley.

As it turned out, however, he had nothing to worry about. The beach Greece had chosen was a fairly small one that was picturesque enough for Japan to automatically snap a picture of its white sands and cerulean waters with his camera and yet obscure enough that there were only a few other people on it, which made it easy to find a spot where he could read in relative solitude. And it most definitely was not of the kind that made him flush at the mere thought of stepping into one of them.

At least, there was nothing to worry about the beach itself.

After helping Japan lay out his beach towel and set up his umbrella, Greece had wasted no time in stripping down to his swim trunks and asking him if he wanted to wade out into the ocean with him.

Japan, already holding the latest volume of One Piece high up to his face after pointedly not watching the other nation undress, muttered something about not being able to be out under the sun for too long without risking sunburn.

That was a patently untrue statement, considering that he had spent entire days touring Greece’s scenic places and lazing under the sun with him without complaining once, and both of them knew it.

Greece only smiled and said, “I can rub sunscreen on you.”

He had walked right into that one, hadn’t he? The best part of all this was that he didn’t even know whether he had done so unintentionally or not. “Maybe later,” Japan said, clearing his throat and turning his eyes away from One Piece just enough to see Greece’s face. “After I’m finished reading this manga.”

“Okay.” Greece leaned forward to press a kiss to Japan’s cheek. At least, that was where his lips would have landed if Japan had not turned his head further at the same time to let them land somewhere else. There was no one located close enough to see them well, so Japan was able to bring his lips to meet Greece’s without flushing too much. He suspected that Greece had made his selection of beaches with this as the primary factor.

“Just try not to spend too much time reading,” Greece said after reluctantly breaking away from the kiss. “I came here to spend time with you, after all.”

“We’ve got the whole day ahead of us, Greece-san,” Japan replied, proud to note that his cheeks felt only slightly warm. “There’s no need to hurry.”

A Romantic Day Out [2/5]

[(Anonymous)]

Less than ten minutes later, Japan heard the first couple of pit-pattering sounds come from above his head as the first handful of raindrops hit his umbrella and left visible blotches on the white sand. He glanced up from his manga and saw that Greece had paused in his swimming to look up at the sky too, which had somehow changed from the clear, flat blue screen it had been mere minutes ago to an overcast gray net swelled up like a balloon.

Then the balloon burst.

Japan gave an instinctive shout as the drizzle switched to a deluge without warning and the formerly white sand surrounding him rapidly began to resemble a bog. He slammed his manga shut and stuck it into his tote bag, leaping up as he did so and almost bonking his head on the underside of the umbrella.

“Greece-san!” Japan called out, frantically scanning the torrent of gray rain for signs of the other nation. He spotted a shadowy figure dashing through the rain toward him just in time to scramble to one side of his towel and give Greece enough space to duck under the umbrella without knocking him over.

“That was unexpected,” Greece said simply once he was safely under the umbrella, brushing away the wet strands of hair clinging to his face.

“It certainly was,” Japan agreed, turning his head to look at the now-mottled sky and beach sands before his examination of the water droplets trickling down Greece’s bare shoulders and chest and the soggy red swim trunks clinging to his thighs turned into outright ogling. He cleared his throat automatically. “We should head home now and get you dry. Where did you place your other clothes?” he asked, raising his voice slightly so that it wouldn’t be drowned out by the rain which seemed to be pounding down even harder now.

“I left them over there,” Greece said, gesturing to a spot close to the umbrella but not close enough to be free of the downpour.

Japan quickly reached out into the rainstorm and retrieved a white T-shirt and khakis that were now thoroughly soaked with bits of sand sticking to them. “It looks like you can’t wear these back home,” he said regretfully, examining the ruined clothes that would have to be put into the laundry once they returned to Greece’s house.

“Looks like it,” Greece commented, but the tone of his voice didn’t sound very concerned and in the next moment, Japan felt him press up against his back.

“…Greece-san?” Japan said hesitantly after Greece stayed in that position for longer than necessary but also not shifting any closer. He would have tried to back away slightly to give the other nation more room to stretch in if it didn’t mean risking moving out of the shelter of the umbrella. Even if his face could stand to have some cold water splashed on it now.

“The rain’s cold, and you’re warm,” Greece explained, his face close enough to the nape of his neck for Japan to feel his breath ghosting over it with every word he said.

[Part 7] Italy and Austria Bond Through Music

[(Anonymous)]

Original Request: http://hetalia-kink.livejournal.com/10960.html?thread=22293200#t22293200



* * *
Note: OP I am a bit sorry for this as it honestly does not have much connection to the original prompt other then it has both Austria and Italy in it and there is music in it. It was inspired by your prompt but then sort of meandered off in its own direction as I was writing it. I thought about just posting this in the "Anything Goes" Prompt but I feel your prompt deserves a fill because it was awesome and Austria/Italy prompts are so rare and it did inspire this fic. I hope you can enjoy it as it is even if it isn't exactly what you asked for...

Pairings: Mostly contains Gen Austria/Italy, A Bit More then Implied Germany/Italy, Implied Austria/Prussia and Hungary's there as well though flying solo. Brief mentions of HRE.

Fermata (1/1) -- Part A

[(Anonymous)]

* * *

Italy wandered slowly through the halls of Austria's house. He wasn't heading anywhere particular and he wasn't in any hurry to get there he just needed to get away from the group in the sitting room. It wasn't that the conversation was bad it was just that Austria had disappeared an hour earlier and Prussia was starting to get bored which meant that he would begin needling Hungary soon because she was the only one present besides his brother who never gave into Prussia's jabs. Italy couldn't see this turning of Prussia's attention to Hungary ending well for the nation. It never did. So he'd escaped as quickly as he could, sharing a knowing smile with Germany as he made his excuses with a soft touch on the other nation's shoulder.

Now he drifted rather aimlessly along with no set destination in mind, occasionally stopping to examine a painting on the wall. He felt like he was searching for something but not quite sure what it was he was looking for.

Austria's house hadn't changed all that much since Italy was a tiny almost nation. Things were a bit more modern and the decorations weren't quite so lavish or ornate these days but the heart and soul of the place remained the same. Warm open rooms, filled with beautiful flowers, fine art and of course...music. There was something in almost every room of the house. Instruments both old and new displayed with great honor and care, cd's, records even a few cassette tapes tucked into places Austria didn't expect guests to look, and sheet music placed or left behind and probably forgotten on almost every available surface. It warmed Italy's heart to see it. Austria's home without music would be like his own without pasta.

It was unthinkable.

Italy smiled fondly as he paused before a large paining in the middle of the hallway he was walking down. It was a portrait of Austria, looking stern, proper, and as Prussia would say, perfectly starched as always. Italy was reminded of another portrait in another century. His fingers itched to reach into his jacket pocked and pull out the paint brush he still kept on him at all times. He still thought Austria would look quite stately with a mustache.

He shook his head and moved away from the painting. He knew better then to deface a fine piece or art like that these days. And besides he did not feel like being put to work cleaning out some dusty corner of Austria's house for a few weekends. He might be a grown up and independent nation now but he had no doubt that Austria would make him do it.

He passed another corridor that tugged at a memory in his head. He paused for a long moment trying to remember where it lead but then heard the soft sounds of a piano further on down in the direction he had been going. He knew the main hallway led to the music room which is where he was sure to find Austria. Not remember where the off shoot corridor went he decided it would be better to continue on as he was going. Austria's house had been large and confusing when he was a child he didn't think it was beyond the scope of the imagination that he could still find himself lost within it even as a grown up. His sense of direction hadn't gotten any better over time, in fact as his brother never hesitated to tell him, it was probably worse.

As he started walking he thought he caught the flash of a familiar blue moving swiftly down the corridor he'd just decided against checking out. His head whipped around in surprise but there was nothing there. He shivered slightly and wrapped his arms around himself for a brief moment as he stared back down the empty corridor. He wondered if it had been an actual ghost he'd just witnessed or it had been merely a shadow of history from the depths of his imagination. Either way the answer would probably not be a good one so he turned and fled down the hall.

Save Us, Giant-American-Man! [4a/?]

[(Anonymous)]

Request: http://hetalia-kink.livejournal.com/10960.html?thread=18440912#t18440912

Chapters 1-3: http://hetalia-kink.livejournal.com/10960.html?thread=19939536#t19939536

Prompt: America is turned into a 50 foot tall giant. Hilarity ensues.

Sorry for the very belated update, but real life is a bitch. :'(

I promise updates will be more constant now.
==============================================

Chapter Four: Look On the Bright Side

The next day finally arrived, but the hard part was not yet over. Now, Arthur had to confront Alfred, and was very scared, and for good reason.

"Look, Arthur, as long as you remain calm, he'll listen to your reasoning," Gordon Brown told his nation.

Arthur was so nervous and angrily answered, "Are you crazy?! He's going to squish me like a bug the first chance he gets, and that's if I'm lucky!"

"Just don't let him see your fear," Brown tried to reassure him. As soon as the door opened and Brown saw the tip of Alfred's enormous toes, he turned to Arthur with a grim look on his face and said, "Good luck."

It didn't do a thing to alleviate Arthur's anxiety, but he knew he had to do this. With that, he swallowed his pride, and walked up to Alfred, who was being kept company by the other Nations.

Upon seeing Arthur finally came, Alfred's face twisted into a rather sick grin. That smile across his face reminded Arthur vaguely of Ivan. As did his tone of voice.

"Hello, Arthur," Alfred drawled. Everyone else gulped, both a little scared and curious as to what Alfred was going to do next. They all moved to a safer area where they could watch the action.

Alfred then grabbed Arthur, trying to be as careful as he could so as to not crush him. Alfred brought Arthur up to his face, his eyes glowing with such rage, it burned a hole into Arthur.

Alfred sounded calm as he said, "Now give me one damn good reason why I shouldn't pop your head off like an overgrown zit, Artie."

Save Us, Giant-American-Man! [4b/?]

[(Anonymous)]

Arthur lamely responded, "I can reverse this!"

Alfred’s glare, if possible, grew harsher. "Don't even bother to!" he screamed, flailing. "According to the others, you tried to shrink me down, and the only reason I grew huge was due to some weird backfiring. I'm pretty sure if you even try to reverse this, you'd only end up making it worse, like turning me inside-out or something!"

As he ranted, Alfred was shaking Arthur around; his amplified screams felt like a typhoon was sweeping over Arthur and the volume hurt his ears.

Ivan tried to stifle a giggle, chortling, "Now that's something I'd like to see."

The others flinched, as the visualization of that made their stomachs turn.

"So why did you do this to me in the first place, huh?" Alfred asked.

Arthur's head was spinning as he asked back, "Didn't they already tell you?"

"I wanted to hear it from you."

Arthur gulped and answered, "Well, you remember that argument we had at the last meeting?" Alfred nodded. Arthur continued, "Well, I decided to teach you a lesson in humility, so I tried to shrink you down, but it backfired, and the rest is history."

Alfred only became angrier, "So you tried to shrink me down to the size of an ant just because I called you an uptight grouch with a ten foot pole up his butt and that I was stronger than you?"

Arthur could only nod, and Alfred continued, "And you thought that gave you the right to mess with me like this?!" Alfred started shaking Arthur around some more, his grip getting just a little tighter.

Arthur attempted to reason, "Well, I was the one who raised you - I'm supposed to punish you right?"

Matthew yelled out from below, "Um, newsflash Arthur: you haven't been directly responsible for Alfred for over two centuries!"

"He is right you know!" Francis followed up.

"I have to agree with him too!" Obama hollered.

Arthur felt completely dejected. "Damn it, is no one going to at least defend me?!"

Everyone else looked at each other and in unison, answered, "No!"

Alfred added, "But don't worry Arthur, I won't kill you for this."

Arthur looked hopeful. "You won't?"

"Nah. However, you do owe me big time for this! And I mean, big time! No pun intended, of course," Alfred replied.

Arthur gulped. Whatever it was Alfred would make him do, Arthur knew he would not like it.

Ludwig barked, "So if America refuses to let you reverse this, then how is he going to get back to his normal size, England?"

Arthur tried to dig through his brain for remedies and whatnot. It wasn't an easy task, though, as his head felt foggy and was pounding with pain as his ears rang from the loudness of Alfred's yelling. He could only answer, "Well, the spell could eventually wear off. Although how long it could actually take is something even I'm not completely sure of. Perhaps a week at best."

No one liked the sound of this.

Yao flipped, "So we're going to have to deal with this giant Alfred for an entire week until he finally gets back to normal, aru?!"

"Yeah, pretty much..." Arthur replied.

Everyone collectively shared the same feeling of complete and utter dread. Arthur had no clue how long it would be until Alfred was back to normal (although he predicted it could at least be a week until Alfred was back to his regular size), and then there was the fact that they had to deal with a gigantic Alfred.

This was going to be a very long week...

Part 6 - US/UK - Male Lactation

[(Anonymous)]

Original request: http://hetalia-kink.livejournal.com/10530.html?thread=15519266#t15519266

"This anon has heard that men can indeed lactate, and anon isn't ashamed to say that lactation is a hard core fetish of anon's, be it in a het relationship or a yuri relationship. However, Alfred x Arthur is anon's first yaoi OTP, so I'm curious about this."

Just a Bit of Discomfort

[(Anonymous)]

Just a Bit of Discomfort

It had just felt like a bit of discomfort at first. A little heavy, like he had nipple clamps on constantly. Of course, since this was the only way he could describe the sensation, Arthur didn't dare tell anyone, not even Alfred, who had been using the nipple clamps on him every now and again. He thinks maybe they were too rough the night before or something like that and hopes the feeling will go away.

Of course, because Arthur's luck is his luck, the feeling doesn't go away. Instead, the heaviness increases over the following week, becoming distracting almost all the time. He notices that his nipples seem to be constantly engorged, pink and erect even when he hasn't been doing anything or thinking about anything that would normally get him into such a state.

By the end of the second week, it's become unbearable. Arthur is desperate, not knowing what's wrong with him, his nipples engorged enough to show through most of his shirts, and, God, it's like he's got an erection in both of his nipples as well as his cock all the time now. It's just not enough to jerk off anymore; it's his nipples that scream for attention, erect and red with need.

So, in the bathroom down the hall of his office, Arthur breaks and locks himself in a stall. He takes his tie off, using it to bite on to muffle any sounds he knows he'll make, and hikes up his dress shirt to expose his nipples to the air. The red and needy flesh puckers in the cool air and Arthur groans, unbuckling his belt as he slides to sit on the toilet, pulling his pants and underwear down around his knees.

He starts by catching his right nipple between his thumb and forefinger, rubbing it luxuriously. Immediately, he can feel his body responding, and Arthur lets his head fall back to rest against the wall as he brings his left hand up to tweak his left nipple. Soon, he's tugging and pinching and rolling his nipples, eyes shut, head back, and legs spread wide. He gasps and grunts into the fabric of his tie, knowing he'll be damned if he's caught -

- and, God, he wants Alfred between his legs right now, fucking him raw, pumping his cock, and swallowing Arthur's moans as he fills Arthur up, hot and sweaty, with his seed -

- and it isn't until Arthur comes down from that white ecstasy of his orgasm that he realizes his fingers and chest are soaked not just in cum but also in a thin but abundant pale liquid leaking from Arthur's nipples. Horrified, Arthur pinches his left nipple roughly with a shaking hand, and a squirt of the opaque liquid splatters on the bathroom stall's door. Even more horrifyingly, it feels good, and Arthur's chest certainly feels a good deal less heavy now that he's apparently stimulated the release of his milk all over himself.

Part of Arthur screams in horror.

The other part can't wait until he meets up with Alfred tonight for dinner and a night in the sack.

That sucks! (1/5)

[(Anonymous)]

Request: http://hetalia-kink.livejournal.com/10530.html?thread=15448866

It was an request for pure smut between Alfred and Arthur

--

As Arthur returned home, he was greeted with a sight he hadn’t seen in centuries. Well, not even in centuries, for to speak the truth he had never seen it before.

“Alfred, are you… working?” Truly, there he was, sitting at Arthur’s work desk with his nose stuck into a thick book. Arthur could only see his golden hair pointing up from behind the many piles of paper that were covering him from the waist and up. At the sound of Arthur’s voice, however, Alfred raised his gaze and peeked over the paper with a pair of tired, blue eyes.

“Oh, Arthur, it’s you.”

“Why are you here?” Arthur asked, placing his attaché map down onto the floor, closing the door to the office behind him. Alfred let go of a helpless chuckle as he got up from the chair.

“I came over this morning, looking for some papers. But you had already left.”

“How did you get in?”

“I know my tricks.”

“…If you’ve ruined the lock again, you’ll pay for a new one.”

“Whatever.” Alfred fell back down to sit. Arthur wrinkles his brows as he approached the desk. Not only did the bloke have tired eyes, his whole body was practically screaming for a break. His cheeks were fuzzy-red, his legs shaking slightly even though he was sitting still.

“For just how long have you been working?”

“Like I said – I dropped by this morning.” Alfred turned a page in his book. He read a few lines, and then he looked up at Arthur, as the man said nothing. “…What? You’re staring.”

“And you’re telling a lie.” Arthur rolled his eyes, turning to lean against the desk while he looked at Alfred. “No way you’ve been messing with those papers for, what? 9 hours?” Alfred pouted in a childish way.

“Now you’re just being mean,” he mumbled, “I thought being serious would make you happy.” Arthur stared at Alfred who stared right back. Then it occurred to him.

“Bloody hell, you really have been working!” Arthur pushed free of the table, pointing a finger to Alfred, who swung his arms up into the air in a hopeless gesture.

“Well, that’s what I said!”

“You’re… Oh, Alfred.” Arthur closed his hand, then stretched the fingers and slowly patted the other’s hair. “You’re…” he tried continuing the sentence again, but he had no idea to where it was heading. So he just stopped there, leaned down and pecked his cheek. “You’re growing up.” Alfred chuckled:

“I hope not.” He yawned. The Englishman slipped a hand through his hair with a loving smile.

“Maybe you should go get a little sleep,” he suggested, but Alfred shook his head, sneaking his arms around Arthur’s waist as he yanked him in close.

“No, it’s not sleep I need now,” he smiled innocently. Arthur dropped to sit on his lap, kissing his nose. Alfred giggled, turned his head upwards and pressed his lips to Arthur’s. He smiled, returning the kiss with his arms swung around his lover’s neck.

“What do you need?” He mumbled the question to Alfred’s lips before giving them a short lick. The other seemed to give his question a two-second thought, and then he shrugged the shoulders.

“This is fine.”

“Oh, no, Alfred,” Arthur corrected him in a low, dark voice. He opened his eyes to look into Alfred’s. The younger was taken aback by lust Arthur’s gaze was holding. “You’ve been a good boy. I think you deserve something more than just ‘fine’. So tell me,” he leaned in to press his lips to his ear, whispering the next words: “What do you really want?”

His words made all the blood in Alfred’s body flow south. He wanted to answer, but it was like he had lost the ability to speak. He just sat there, gawking like an idiot. Arthur chuckled and softly bit his earlobe.

That sucks! (2/5)

[(Anonymous)]

“Seems like one part of your body is reacting.” His fingertips travelled down Alfred’s chest, stomach, down to his pants. Gently he grabbed the bulge that had started to show through the fabric. As Alfred moaned, Arthur smiled. “I guess I’ve got my answer. Have work on this, right?”

“Right,” Alfred finally nodded. The Englishman slipped from his lap and down to kneel on the floor in front of him. “Right… You’re going to suck me off?”

“Don’t ruin the moment with speaking,” Arthur hushed, reaching forward to zip down his pants. Alfred rose shortly from the seat so that Arthur could pull them down. He shoved them away before returning his attention to the white pair of boxers the other was wearing. Pre-cum had already soaked a spot at the front, and Arthur leaned in, slipping the tip of his tongue across it.

“Fuck…” Alfred spread his legs slightly, his eyes locked at Arthur’s face between his legs. Arthur gazed up at him, that arrogant look of his in the green eyes. He placed small kisses up to the waistline of the boxers, bit down at it as he pulled the fabric down with his teeth. Alfred’s half erected cock slipped free of the garment, and Alfred gasped as the heated skin made contact with the much colder air in the office.

“Yes, that’s it. Make all the sounds you want to,” Arthur prodded him with a slight chuckle. He licked his lips in an eager motion as his eyes fell upon the other’s cock. He grabbed around it with one hand, leaned forward and slowly ran his tongue across the slit, licking up the pre-cum. It tasted salty, but pleasing. It was the taste of Alfred. Arthur started placing butterfly kissed from the top to the root, nipped his way up again. Alfred moaned and bucked his hips upwards, but he didn’t close his eyes, keen on getting every little detail.

Arthur slowly started to jerk the other off. Painfully slowly, meanwhile he carefully watched Alfred’s face. He loved the way the other’s lower lip would shake when his hand went down, and his eyes roll a little as his fingers caressed the cockhead. It was a pleasing sight, but he wanted to please the man even more.

Arthur leaned forward as he opened his mouth, stretching his lips over the angry-red cockhead. He gave it a slight suck, swallowing the fluids before he slowly started to take Alfred in.

“Fuck yes, Arty, like that. Keep going,” Alfred encouraged him in a breathless voice. Arthur closed his eyes as he tried to concentrate on swallowing. It had been too long since he last gave the other a blow, and it was like he had to learn how to relax his throat all over again. It fought back as the cock hit the back of his mouth, but Arthur wouldn’t give up. He slipped a little back, the fast forward again as he pressed the cock in deeper. His throat clenched around the meat, and Alfred moaned in pleasure, throwing his head back. “Yes!”

Arthur gagged. He needed air. He had to let it slip out again as he took in a deep breath and allowed his hand to work a little instead. His lips were glistening with spit. As Alfred looked down at him, Arthur almost felt embarrassed.

“You look so dirty,” Alfred whispered in a hoarse voice. He reached down and gently caressed Arthur’s right cheek with a smile. “I like that. My dirty lover on his knees, giving me head. It’s the perfect picture.” Normally Arthur would have scolded him for using such a language, but now he felt it turning him incredibly on, and he turned his head as he shortly placed a kiss upon Alfred’s fingers, then he learned forward, once again letting his mouth open op for the other’s cock.

This time he didn’t gag. He swallowed like he was a greedy child getting its candy, wanting it all in one mouthful. He started to bob his head up and down, taking in more of Alfred every time he went down on him. Alfred’s fingers sunk into his hair, messing it up as he stroked and patted and caressed him at the same time.

Of British guy and lovely complexes 1/?

[(Anonymous)]

http://hetalia-kink.livejournal.com/10960.html?thread=20835280#t20835280

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Sorry for any grammar mistakes or awkward sentence you may find here , but I'm not native speaker , so forgive me .


Since I was a child I’ve always been the shortest between my male mates , which means I’ve been always referred to as shorty , dwarf , microbe and others very unpleasant nicknames of the sort , much to my dismay and my classmates’ amusement .
Besides , I can’t deny my temper was of the mildest , so well , I’ve never had that many friends … not that I care of course , I can cope perfectly on my own .
Actually , it’s not like I’m really that short . As a matter of fact , I’m almost 1,70 cm … which would not pose a problem to me if I liked girls , but I don’t like girls very much , not much really , I prefer boys . What your problem anyway ? What are you getting at ? I guess you’re thinking it .
Well , the matter is that I don’t want someone taller than me , absolutely not , I’d like someone shorter than me , cute and with a lovely character .
Unluckily, as you must have understood it is really hard for me , being so short , to find someone of the sort .

In addition to it , when I started high school , the worst of the surprise awaited me … yes , cause I’m just to unlucky for words , God must hate me . I end up in class with this unbelievably tall guy , thing that just stresses more my shortness , but that’s not just it , cause it’d be too good a situation this way … and it never is when I’m concerned … he’s also the most obnoxious , full of himself , insufferable , stupid , absent-minded , tactless git I’ve ever the misfortune to lay my eyes on . Plus , he’s American , yes American … speaking in that bloody mess they made of our language that they call American English .
I’m so miserable … I must be cursed or jinxed , I’m sure about it , I must have inadvertently caused some ghost or pixie or something of the sort to bear a grudge against me , sigh .
And obviously , this wanker never let me be , he keeps mocking me about my height and my character to no end , he even call me a stodgy old man . I can’t stand him . Because of us always bickering , we ended up being the fool of the class , they call us ‘ all hanshin kyojin’ , who seem to be a famous couple of Japanese comedians , even if I had never heard of them before .
He , on his part, doesn’t seem to resent much from this thing , brainless as he is , but for me it is totally unbearable , not considering it doesn’t help improving my image at all.

I can still remember the first time I met him …
I was having a look at the list of the names on the front door of the school , looking for the class I was destined to , when I notice something big overshadowing me and preventing me from reading well . I looked up and saw this boy , who is at least 30 cm taller than me with a stupid wide grin on his face , which really annoyed me ( what the hell do you have to be so happy about at 7 seven o’clock in the morning ?) . So I tried to move a bit to the left , then to right to be able to see the placard again , murmuring under my breath how much I didn’t want us to be in the same class .
Then I didn’t know if he heard me or just took notice of me moving from one side to another , but he started laughing and uttered those damned words I’m not going to forget neither in 100 years : “ Oh sorry lad , I didn’t spot you cause you’re so short , at first glance I thought you were from elementary school …’
“ What the hell you bloody git ? Is it that mind of yours so blank you can’t even tell the difference between a high school grader and an elementary one ?” I was seething with anger , everybody were looking at me laughing .
“ There’s no need to be so stiff , geez , I was just joking . You can take out that stick from your ass … “ That exact moment I attacked him , which didn’t turn out very well , but that’s beside the point , what really put me out that morning was discovering that he was in my class , the thing I wanted the least .

Re: Of British guy and lovely complexes 2/?

[(Anonymous)]

______ ____________ ___________

“ Stop spacing out Mr Kirkland and listen to me .”
“ Yes , sorry professor Gilbert” . Geez how much I hate this damned git , it was all his fault if the joke about ‘All hanshin kyojin’ had grown so much , he was the one to first call them that .
“ As I was saying , you have to attend the summer course with all the people who didn’t pass their exams” Damned him , I can see a bloody grin on his face .
“What? That’s impossible … I mean I’ve got all A , there’s no way I have to attend that course” I really must have done something loathsome in my other life to deserve this .
“ That’s true , but being caught while reading an erotic magazine this morning during the lecture wasn’t a very good move on your part … I mean if it was for me there wouldn’t be problems , but the Headmaster was no pleased at all”
I blushed , damn , I could fell the heat all over my face … How could I be so careless to be caught red-handed . What’s more , what a terrible account of myself I gave .
“ Argh , I know damn well , you’re brimming with joy for this thing , I’m sure as hell you were the one to suggest this punishment to the headmaster”
“ Maybe yes maybe not . Ah anyway , since you’re here , why don’t you go and make those photocopies for me ?”


___ ______ ___________ ________


“ I hate him , I hate him with all of my heart … I hope he’ll get diarrhoea and he’ll have to stick on his damned bog .” I swear if I’ve got the possibility I’ll get revenge .
“ Oh come on , Arthur … this just means we’ll spend the summer together . Moi , I’ve been told to attend that course as well” How was it possible this French sexual maniac was his only friend ? How sad …
“ Just so you know , I had other plan on how to spend my summer .”
“ Like sewing or embroidering or whatever it is that lame hobby of yours ? Or maybe getting drunk and spend the whole evening blubbering alone in a corner ?... cause that’s what you usually do”
“ I … I don’t ….for your information … Just go to hell !” What did people have against embroidering anyway ? It was a fantastic way to wind down and a very fine art .
As I was leaving the room I could hear Francis telling me to take it easy in that bloody language of his .

Hey Mister! That's My Sister!

[(Anonymous)]

Canada and US are actually twin SISTERS. France and UK just assumed they were boys; the two never bothered to correct them. USA because she's something of a tomboy and goes to great lengths to hide it, and Canada... Canada doesn't try to hide it, but no one's ever looked close enough to tell under all those baggy clothes.

Original request and parts 1-3 (http://hetalia-kink.livejournal.com/9482.html?thread=11864074#t11864074)

Parts 4-5 (http://hetalia-kink.livejournal.com/10456.html?thread=15369176#t15369176)

_{A/N: Sorry about the extreme posting lag. Sickness+School=Crappy Writing. I was waiting for the crappiness to subside. May have not succeeded.}

Hey Mister! That's My Sister! [Part 7 of ?]

[(Anonymous)]

It was after 11:00 PM before they all agreed that they should be done speaking for the evening. Allie and Mattie, or rather Maddie, had both agreed that they still wanted to go to school the next day. Francis couldn’t imagine how they, as a family, would be able to go about things as though nothing had changed. Certainly everything would be different now. The school would have to be informed. Their adoption records changed. Perhaps it would be best that they just move completely? Get the boys- or rather girls – into a new school? A new beginning for us all.

Francis pulled his brush through his long hair one last time before setting it on the counter. His eyes were naturally drawn to his own reflection in the mirror. He would have to make sure he was setting a good example for them. A hand went to the skin at the corner of his left eye. They would need to be taught about beauty. He tried to smooth a slight crease in his skin. “Do you think I am getting wrinkles?” Francis asked weakly.

Arthur, standing at the other bathroom sink, scoffed. Not even bothering to glance at his lover he growled, “You can honestly be thinking about something like that at a time like this?”

He doesn’t understand. To properly teach about beauty, one needs to be beauty. Everything has changed.


___________________________________________________________________________
It was after 11:05 PM when Allie pulled up Maddie’s covers and crawled into her little twin bed with her.

“We’re getting too big for this,” Maddie whined, the lateness of the hour and stress of the day grading on her nerves.

“Just one more time?” Al whined. She continued to climb into the bed, knowing Maddie’s protests wouldn’t go far. “I like knowing I’m really close… to protect you.”

“That’s what,” a yawn forced its way out, “you always say.”

Alison smiled to herself as she snuggled in closer to Madison.




___________________________________________________________________________
That sound. If it could even be called a sound. Whatever the hell it was it made Madison want to jam an icepick into her ears, just so she wouldn’t have to hear it any more.

“Girls! Girls! Girls!” a male voice sang, with the light fuzz of radio static blanketing him.

For the love of maple! A flipping hairband at 7:05 in the morning! Alison was seriously going to get murdered for touching her radio alarm clock one of these days. Justifiable homicide. No sane jury would convict.

Madison slammed a hand down on the alarm before the Motley Crew could wrench out anymore needless noise about subjugating women.

As she looked back to her twin, a pair of stunningly blue eyes fluttered open. They were soon followed by a brilliantly white smile. “G’mornin’!” Al chirped.

It was official. Alison definitely wanted to be murdered.

“Move!” Madison growled before pushing her twin completely off the bed. There was a surprised yelp when Alison’s tailbone became intimately acquainted with plush, carpeted floor below. Madison was not a morning person.

“What the crap, Maddie? You might wanna try some Midol for that bitchiness.”




___________________________________________________________________________
_{In case you want to hear the wake up song (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OJrSyFpK3iQ). Al likes hair bands. ;)}

Just a Private Lesson! [1/1]

[(Anonymous)]

Request (from part 7): http://hetalia-kink.livejournal.com/10960.html?thread=20373712#t20373712

------------

He wondered if perhaps Greece was doing it so much because he was trying to get Japan to copy him and do it as well. He was, after all, supposed to be learning from his sessions with Greece.

But to be honest—he could not do it, not while Greece was doing it all of the time anyway.

Greece always seemed to doing things like nipping at his neck, nuzzling against his cheek, and pressing small kisses against his ear—and it didn’t just stop at foreplay. It was throughout sex.

Even when he wasn’t biting or nipping or kissing, he always had to be near him, cheek pressed to cheek. They could always hear one another’s breathing, their faces were so close. The hot breath against his ear always managed to give him the feeling of hot water being poured down his spine.

In fact, he suspected that the reason for Greece’s preference for face to face intercourse was simply so that he could do those things more easily.

It felt nice, sure, but it didn’t seem to have much of a purpose besides that. Before this had started, Japan had always had sex without such things distracting him from the main act.

And here he was, with Greece pressed against him, after they had both had release. Greece was kissing his forehead now, his palm holding up his chin.

It was so different from what he had always done. Before, the natural thing to do after both participants were done was to share a few quick words, perhaps a kiss, and then to separate, whether it to different rooms or to different sides of a bed.

But with Greece, it was always warmth and body heat, and Japan’s body was always tangled with his after sex. He could not find it in himself to complain, not when everything was so warm and lazy and comfortable.

“That was satisfactory?” He asked, trying to control his erratic breathing. He always had to make sure. It was the point of why he was doing all of this, after all.

“Mm, yes, of course,” Greece murmured. He had pulled away a bit, but was still stroking Japan’s cheek lazily with his fingertips.

It was silence for a moment, as Japan considered bringing up the subject. Would it seem rude, to bring it up? But then, as he felt those soft strokes against his cheek, it burst out of him: “You are not disappointed that I don’t reciprocate your physical affections?”

Greece’s hand dropped to his side, and he looked at him questioningly. “Physical affections? We’re sleeping together, aren’t we? Of course you’re reciprocating.”

“Ah, no, that is not what I meant,” Japan mumbled, glancing away. Reluctantly, he looked back at Greece, and said, “You are just—very affectionate, and I wondered if I was supposed do it as well.”

Greece laughed, and the confusion was wiped from his face. “Don’t worry, it’s not something you have to do to improve your technique—It’s just something that I do. You don’t dislike it, do you?”

Japan bit his lip. “Ah, no, I do not dislike it. It is nice, it is just something that I am unused to.”

Greece’s smile seemed to deepen, and he pressed against Japan again, and it almost felt like he was curling around him.

“I’m glad that you don’t dislike it. Because I enjoy showing you affection.” He licked the shell of his ear, and Japan’s body shivered in response.

As Greece began to wrap arms around him, covering him with warmth, Japan nervously tried to convince himself that it was all just a private lesson, with no strings attached.

Re: Just a Private Lesson! [1/1]

[(Anonymous)]

Ooh, great, anon! This was a really sweet and thoughtful way to fill the prompt. Thank you!

Prussia/Russia 1/?

[(Anonymous)]

Original request: http://hetalia-kink.livejournal.com/632.html?thread=915320#t915320
Russia really surprises Prussia after the two of them sign a treaty.


God was on their side. That was the only reason Prussia could think why the tide had turned so gloriously. Russia was negotiating when Prussia in the bleak reality had nothing to offer him.

Prussia felt less lucky after the actual negotiation took place. Russia was nuzzling against his hair and Fritz was giving him a "don't cause a scene or I will kill you" stare. It was a stare seldom used but one to be respected. So Russia's new boss wanted to be friends. That was good. Russia wanting to be very friendly on the other hand... Not good.

When Fritz left him alone with Russia Prussia wanted to strangle him for the first time in their relationship. To Prussia's fury but not surprise he ended up on his back on the negotiating table with Russia looming over him. At least Russia wasn't holding him down. Yet.

"My new boss like you two so much that I decided to go with this to make him happy," Russia said. "We can always beat each other up later as much as we want, da? Perhaps one day you even win."

"I'll defiantly win next time!" Prussia said and Russia chuckled. “Could have won this time too if we went on.”

"I love the Prussian self-confidence. What would you do if the positions were reversed I wonder?"

The table creaked ominously as Russia laid down next to Prussia and looked at him with anticipation. Prussia wondered if he should try to leave, perhaps make an excuse that Fritz needed him. But Russia was mocking him and Prussia couldn't step away from a challenge. Russia would back down first if it was going to be the last thing he did.

"First, I wouldn't waste time talking. It would be you on your back in my war room, which is much more awesome than this room."

"Ah, Prussian efficiency at it's best. But is not such a thing against your religion?”

“Just another kind of psychological war. I am a holy knight, which means all wars I fight are by definition holy too. I'm incorruptible and everything I do is just.”

Russia smiled and tilted his head a bit. “I think you are lacking at least humility from the Prussian virtues, da?”

“If you knew how awesome I really was you would know I'm really humble right now.”

At that Russia laughed out loud. “Tell me more about what the awesome Prussia would do to a defeated Russia as the next part of the psychological warfare.”

"I would kiss you, but not like a fucking wimp, not like you were my girlfriend or something."

"That needs a demonstration I believe," Russia said and Prussia found himself temporary lifted into the air and then dropped down on top of the other nation. "A bit like this, da? Just try to pretend the table is more awesome."

This was getting weird beyond words but what the hell. Prussia didn't become a great power by hesitating. He regained his balance and did his best to pin down Russia with his weight. Then he claimed Russia's mouth, kissing him harshly. Thinking back at his earlier promise he bit down at Russia's lip, then letting go to lick the blood.

"Nice touch," Russia said. His voice was still calm and curious but he was breathing heavily. "Is this the point where I should have begin to become frightened?"

"That part comes later," Prussia said. "I should have a weapon and you should be unarmed but we have to improvise a bit on this. You see, I should have cut off your clothes with my dagger, nicking you a little bit in the process to show who's in charge.”

“Always a good thing to do,” Russia agreed. In lack of sharp tools Prussia unbuttoned the coat and with Russia's cooperation it came off easily, as well as the shirt beneath.

“Now is the time when you would start to be afraid.”

Russia giggled. “Just pretend I'm trembling.”

“Oh, you will do that soon enough,” Prussia happily promised and went to work. If he was serious he would have tied down Russia, the other nation was way heavier than him and if Russia wanted to throw him across the room it probably would happen. Prussia let his tongue flicker over Russia's nipples, biting down more carefully than he actually wanted when he heard Russia gasp.

Re: Prussia/Russia 1/?

[(Anonymous)]

Bwahahaha, very nice! More soon, I hope?

England/Tam Lin

[(Anonymous)]

http://hetalia-kink.livejournal.com/9482.html?thread=11913738#t11913738
England in the Ballad of Tam Lin.

Author Note: This is only the first part the now, mostly because if I don't then I shall pick at this part instead of writing the rest...it's already longer than what I'm use to writing *is a "two or three hundred word at the max" sort of writer*.

Also, I didn't think that countries' names would work so:
Scotland = Macbeth, Guinevere = Wales, Finn = Republic of Ireland and Hedin = Norway

Ballad of Tam Lin Part 1a

[(Anonymous)]

“Admit Francis, we’re lost!” Macbeth yelled over the howling wind and rain as he tried to calm his horse down. Silently he cursed the messenger from his parents, calling him home to Camelot. Why wait half a year and well into Winter to inform him that he had a baby brother; he had already completed the training a year ago to become a knight so that wasn’t an excuse.

He stopped his mental musing (and promises that he would find some sort of hex to use on his parents when he got home) when he realized that the blonde knight had not responded. “Francis? Come on! This isn’t fucking funny.” He yelled as loud as he could before noticing the grey mare belonging to his friend, wandering aimlessly in front of a small forest.

There was something familiar about it, something that made every nerve in his body say don’t go in there but, if Francis was in there and hurt…

“Fucking eejit!” he muttered, urging his horse into the woods.

The scream of horror that left the forest not long after was lost in the wind and rain of the night.

Part 7 - UK/US - Roommate AU

[(Anonymous)]

Original request: http://hetalia-kink.livejournal.com/10960.html?thread=20373968#t20373968

Tired of being pushed around by his brothers at home Arthur Kirkland fled to New York for a job. When the job soon after falls through and unable to get over his pride and admit to his brothers he's failed and needs help he finds himself trapped and in need of a job and a place to live. Desperate he answers a rather vague add in the paper for a roommate/caretaker position for a man he's heard is a very eccentric rich recluse who owns a very swanky w/view of Central Park penthouse apartment. He arrives expecting to find some old guy and finds Alfred Jones instead.

Shine 1/?

[(Anonymous)]

“We regret to inform you that we will be letting you go.”

The last words he wanted to hear were the words that had greeted him when he walked into work that morning. Now he stared out the taxi window at the rain beating down around him and cursed his rotten luck. He was a much more efficient worker than anyone in that office had been, how was it his fault that his fellow workers had been pathetic lazy ingrates who incurred his ire on a regular basis? One of the twats must have gone crying to one of the higher ups about the tyrant Arthur Kirkland. His knuckles turned white as he gripped his suitcase. He wasn’t a citizen, so he couldn’t apply for unemployment, he was just stuck with a degree in literature and a now useless work visa. He had enough money to pay for his almost past due rent, and perhaps a few more taxi rides, but after that?

He fished in his pocket and pulled out his mobile, staring at the ‘Kirkland’ entry for a few moments. Oh, they’d love that, wouldn’t they? If he were to call begging for money so he could fly back to England? He could only imagine the compensation they’d demand in exchange for such a thing. Perhaps he’d have the supreme honor of loo cleaning duties for the rest of his life or worse yet, be the permanent nanny for that wretched little brother of his. No, the entire reason he was in that taxi in the middle of New York in the first place was to get away from his brothers and their love of abusing him. He wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of knowing he couldn’t make it on his own in a foreign country, after all. He shoved the phone back in his pocket and resumed watching the rain outside the window.

So he resolved, but he seemed to be right on track for that exact scenario to come to pass. He groaned and buried his face in his hands. He couldn’t very well depend on the charity of the Americans, could he. Not when they were so fond of portraying the British as villains in their ghastly movies, and probably thought him too pompous and conceited to need any help. Not that he wanted to admit he needed help to them, either.

He handed the driver his payment and thanked him as he stepped out of the taxi. Like a true English gentleman, he didn’t need an umbrella and walked defiantly with his head held high through the pouring rain. He was going to make this work, even if he had to lower himself to more menial work.

The paper he’d discarded on the kitchen table was still there, but now he had a reason to open it up and leaf through the pages until he found the classifieds section. Four years of university and a resume most would kill for and he was resorting to the help wanted ads in an American paper. Once again he had to curse his rotten luck as he circled potential listings and tapped the pen against the wood of the table while he scanned the paper. He was about to stop the search and pursue the listings he’d picked out when one ad caught his eye.

Wanted - Caretaker/Roommate. Rent included in salary. Please contact Alfred or Matthew Jones at 555-9356

Oh yes, because such a vague listing would no doubt draw a smashing number of respondents. He snorted and reached in his pocket for his phone when he froze.

“Alfred Jones…” he murmured and tried to remember where he’d heard that name before. His eyes widened as he remembered those obnoxious women in the office whispering about the crazy millionaire living by himself in a posh penthouse overlooking Central Park. He had money to burn, but had never been seen in public before. He licked his suddenly dry lips and stared at the ad again.

“Caretaker slash roommate, is it? Rent included in salary…” He couldn’t help but think of what a sweet deal that would be, taking care of some senile old man while he lived in a beautiful apartment. He could look for more prestigious work in the meantime, and who knows? Maybe the old bat would sponsor a green card.

If nothing else, it wouldn’t hurt to try, and so he punched in the number in his mobile

“Yes, hello. I read your ad and I am interested in the position…”

---

[England/Canada] A Hundred Years From Today (1a/?)

[(Anonymous)]

Original Request: http://hetalia-kink.livejournal.com/10530.html?thread=14978082#t14978082

"I want to see England taking care, and showing more attention, to Canada after the American Revolution."

----------------------------------------

A Hundred Years From Today

“Canada has been modest in its history, although its history is heroic in many ways. But its history, in my estimation, is only commencing. It is commencing in this century. The 19th century was the century of the United States. I think we can claim that it is Canada that shall fill the 20th century.” – Sir Wilfird Laurier, Prime Minister of Canada 1896-1911


Town of York, 1800

Arthur leaves his men at the wharf, marching up Church Street with a cross expression. He is beginning to regret not taking a carriage – the spring snow has turned the road to mud, and the further from the lake he gets, the worse the trek becomes. Should he have to walk east to the Parliament, Matthew will be hearing more than a few words. But Lot Street gives way to sprawling forested estates, and through the thicket Arthur spies his colony’s little wood home tucked along McGill’s property line.

The British Empire doesn’t knock but walks right in, banging the snow from his boots as he surveys the interior of the dark house. Any fire in the hearth has long since smouldered, but Matthew is still sitting on a stool in front of it, staring into the ashes and the final curls of smoke. Arthur clears his throat. The boy jumps, turns his attention toward the door before regaining his senses and clambering to his feet.

“I expected you in Montreal.”

Matthew’s eyes are lowered to the floor. “Je vous pri-” he begins and then stops suddenly, biting down hard on his lip. He raises his gaze to match Arthur’s, sucks in a deep breath and says, “Please forgive me, sir.”

“I’m not displeased you’re in Upper Canada,” replies Arthur wryly, stepping forward into the room. “Light a fire if you will, thank you. No, I am not displeased you are here, but next time have the Lieutenant Governor inform me so I do not waste my time inquiring after you.”

“Please forgive me,” Matthew repeats as he bows quickly. There is kindling and wood indoors still, and he sets about fulfilling Arthur’s request without further comment. Arthur sits on the stool with an exhausted grunt. He doesn’t fancy walking back into town, but Matthew has little more than the bare essentials here. Then he recalls that only seven years since its founding, the whole town has only the bare essentials despite the prominence of its stature.

“Heat some water when you’re done with the fire. I shall have to stay the night.”

Matthew works silently; he brings over a basin and sets it beside the stool, kneeling to help Arthur remove his boots. When their fingers brush the colony jerks back in one sharp motion, hesitating only a moment before leaning forward to resume his prior actions.

[England/Canada] A Hundred Years From Today (1b/?)

[(Anonymous)]

“I should say, I do find it quite strange you’re in York,” comments Arthur in an amicable tone, watching Matthew closely. “Do you not prefer the lands along the St Lawrence?”

Matthew pulls the tall boots from Arthur’s feet. He peels back the socks next, then stands to remove the water warming over the fire. There’s a rag in the basin, and Matthew uses it to wash and warm Arthur’s feet, carefully taking the elder nation’s foot in hand. “If you’re worried about the American settlers,” he says quietly, “I pay their ideas no heed.”

“You will not lie to me,” Arthur scoffs, leaning down to inspect his charge at a closer range. He expects Matthew to shy away, but instead the colony just frowns.

“But they must be loyal to you. Why else would- ”

“Loyalty,” Arthur cuts in, “is something I do indeed cherish. That does not mean the settlers are unaffected by those preposterous ideas France and America are touting about. If you think you know how the world works, by all means join them! Though be warned that America will have you annexed in under a year if you try.” Gripping Matthew’s chin, Arthur forces their gazes to meet. “What the settlers are after is inexpensive land. We shall use them to clear the forests, but if you are looking for guidance I advise you to listen to the Executive Council.”

Barely audible, Matthew replies, “yes, sir”. He moves out of Arthur’s reach and sets about wiping the mud from the floorboards. Although dissatisfied with the response, Arthur decides to let it go – but suddenly the silence is broken by a sniffle, and Arthur realizes Matthew turned away only to hide his tears.

“What is it?” he orders, and then softens his tone, finding a clean patch on the floor to kneel beside his colony. Again Matthew reacts to Arthur’s touch violently, hiccupping loudly as he pulls away from where Arthur tried to rub his back. “Tell me what is wrong with you then,” Arthur sighs in exasperation, his entire posture seeming to deflate as he sinks into his position on the floor. “My intent was not to upset you.”

“You won’t like it.”

“I suspect I won’t. Now tell me.”

Another sniffle. “I miss France.”

The anger swells hot and sudden, rising in Arthur’s throat unbidden. Before he can lash out, however, Matthew continues.

“I appreciate everything, but France … cared about me.”

Arthur rises stiffly. “France was always good at that. Caring.”

“He never left me alone for so long,” Matthew murmurs, scratching at the floor with his fingers. And his tone catches like a memory in Arthur’s mind, making him shiver.

“What do you think of me, then?” Arthur asks briskly. “Am I too strict? Do you not like order and progress?” He doesn’t mean too, but he’s glaring down at Matthew.

“No.” Matthew shakes his head, defiant. And his next words catch Arthur off guard, though they warm his body more thoroughly than anything else in the small house.

“I always miss you too, England.”

Consensual UK/colonial!US (from Part 2)

[(Anonymous)]

Moronanon accidentally put this in the other past part fills post so here's a link to it so she doesn't have to repost the entire thing again:
http://hetalia-kink.livejournal.com/10456.html?thread=25920984#t25920984

_{*hopes this is okay and will try to stop living up to her name*}

On the Shore, cont' [8/12]

[(Anonymous)]

Continued from here: http://hetalia-kink.livejournal.com/10960.html?thread=21094352#t21094352.




Kiku sits back up, delicately wiping at the corners of his mouth.


“You may release him,” he says, and Herakles does, leaning over to catch his hand instead.


“Much obliged.” They are cheek-to-cheek, and Herakles’ tongue flicks out to clean what remains of the mess on Kiku’s face. They had agreed to share this, after all. His partner shudders, eyes fluttering shut.


“Thank you,” he whispers. “Thank you. Can you breathe, still, Herakles?”


He can. He can and he is hungry still, too. So hungry that he must take care when he presses their lips together, so as not to be consumed. Yet the heart is willing but the flesh weak; he draws Kiku’s fingers into his mouth slowly, one by one, and purses his lips about them. He can feel Alfred shifting behind him, the mattress dipping with his movements.


“Breathe? Oh, Herc—” Alfred kisses him softly between the shoulder blades. Softly, and then more deeply as he works his way up Herakles’ neck. “Oh, geez. Herc, guys, I’m so sorry. I mean, if I’d known any sooner…”


“It’s fine,” Herakles assures him. Alfred pauses by his ear, though.


“Is it asthma? Like, do you need to see a doctor, or…or do you have an inhaler or something?”


Again it falls to Kiku to calm him, reaching over Herakles to cup his face.


“It is nothing a doctor might fix, nor is it anything Herakles is ill-equipped to handle.”


“Mm. I’m used to it,” he says, and when he closes his eyes, he is a child again, on his mother’s hip beside the navel of the earth.


He opens them again, and he is used to it.

On the Shore, cont' [9/12]

[(Anonymous)]

Perhaps there had been some tilt of his head, some slackening of his grip upon Kiku’s fingers, or some other such betrayal by his body, for Kiku leans in to claim his throat then, muttering “Ah, but you promised.” He must have directed Alfred somehow, too, because Alfred lays his mouth where neck meets shoulder and Kiku cradles his skull with the hand not on Herakles’ thigh. Herakles breathes the both of them in –steel and sweat and chrysanthemum and columbine— and feels them breathing against him. He lets his head loll back, and simply breathes in time to the rise and fall of stomach and breast.


“Is that better?” Alfred asks.


Much better. He threads his fingers through Alfred’s hair. It really isn’t like Kiku’s hair at all— whereas his is coarse (no rougher than his own, all things being fair), Kiku’s is much softer and smoother by far. This isn’t to say that it’s an unpleasant sensation, simply a different one. Kiku’s hair does not catch on his callouses like so.


And whereas Alfred is diligent and eager to please, Kiku is assured of his self, and calm. Collected, calm, and exquisite. When Kiku is certain of how he wishes to arrange the scene, he guides Herakles’ hands to the headboard, folding them carefully into place with his own so that Herakles is on his knees and facing the wall. Herakles regrets not pressing their bodies close together when he could, for he aches now to feel him. Perhaps he could have held Kiku atop him, or they could have lain belly-to-belly –no, heart-to-breast— as they stroked each other to slow orgasm. He could have drawn Kiku’s fingers into his mouth once more to suck them clean. Like this, he would have to twist his arm to so much as brush Kiku’s face.


“I wanted to touch you,” he says, not looking up, for this is how he has been instructed to hold his head.


Kiku presses a single kiss, a calm and exquisite kiss, to the small of his back and promises him, “It will be fine. I am here.” And then he is gone.


Herakles believes him still.


Kiku directs Alfred to lie on his back, with his head between Herakles’ legs, and to take him in his mouth as best he can. He can, somewhat, and Herakles rocks his hips to meet him halfway, inhaling sharply when Alfred suddenly swallows around him. Alfred swallows again, and his vision flashes white, then gold, then scarlet, and he has to steel himself so that he does not come right then and there. Kiku has not returned to him yet, after all, and they will not be doing this alone.


Kiku does return, though, as soon as he is satisfied with the workings of things, and he trails ghostly-soft kisses down Herakles spine from skull to base, and Herakles shudders as the sensation sets his neurons alight disc by lovely disc. Kiku takes pause, at last, at the small of his back once more, and he breaks away to rifle through the clothing on the floor. When he returns, a few soft clicks and some humming later, his fingers are warm and slick, and they press against him for permission.

The show - [1\4]

[(Anonymous)]

This is from waaaay back, Part 2. http://hetalia-kink.livejournal.com/3274.html?thread=2341322#t2341322
Anon asked for Spain/S.Italy or Latvia/Sealand, with kink being the bottom scissoring and jacking himself on his back in front of an awaiting (preferably masturbating to the spectacle) top.

I prefer my boys all manry, so I picked the Spain\Romano option. I want to write some Prussia dammit, he's all the rage these days, but the tomato muse won't leave me alone. Human names. If you can think up an historical setting for something like this then kudos, I couldn't so it's basically just porn. Not even character building or anything. Just two guys fucking. Well, at least they're on a sofa, not in a featurless void. I think.
English not first language, not betae'd, sorry for the fail.

Antonio guides him against the back of a sofa, seals the kiss with a bite on his lower lip, and Lovino moans loudly, closes his eyes and then flutters them open again, saying "Bastard... Let me get to the bed...".
It's his prize, Antonio thinks. He bears all sorts of abuse, screaming, senseless insults (and in one memorable occasion pissing on his house), and he suspects he would put up with worse, just to catch a taste of the warm body in his arms. Lovino is all flushed now, already disheveled and a bit surprised. Even after all these years, anytime Antonio grabs him and pulls him in an heated kiss (or slams him against the nearest surface, or starts whispering in his ear in bed, or gestures at him during a meeting) Lovino looks like he doesn't expect it at all. Well, at least he has stopped to pretend he doesn't want it, and the fact that this beautiful being is unable to see his own grace fills Antonio with tenderness. He doesn't answer and starts to kiss him again instead, pushing his hips into his, and the ancient sofa slides a little on the floor, complaining, the noise loud in the quiet sitting room. The place is old and formal, heavily decorated, almost never used - that's actually the reason for his assault today. He has made a bet with Prussia and France to have sex in every room of his house by January and it's rare for them to happen here (Lovino doesn't know, he would find it stupid). He's not surprised when the other finally gives in with his usual manners, whispering on his lips "Tch. Do what you want, you perv, since you want to be unconfortable..."
They go back to kissing, their arms wrapping firmly around each other, and Lovino pulls himself up a little to sit on the edge of the sofa's back, so they can deepen the kiss even more, grinding against each other. They break their contact only for the few seconds necessary for Antonio to take his t-shirt off, they manage to undo the buttons on Lovino's shirt with their tongues still fighting, and proceed to work on each other's jeans, until both their half-hard cocks spill out, contained only by the boxers. They rub on each other through the fabric, and Lovino moans in the other's mouth, making Antonio push against him, and the sofa slides loudly on the floor again. "Ah" the Italian breaks the kiss "aspetta!".
"¿Porque, Lovi?" Antonio is panting. "¡Yo te quiero ahora!"
Lovino is blushing so hard, the other melts a little. "Stopping later would be w-worse... You need to... You know... Take that..."
"Oh-ooh! Ok. Back in a minute!"

The show - [2\4]

[(Anonymous)]

When Antonio returs from his quick run to retrieve the lube, Lovino is naked and sitting on the sofa, hugging his legs. He looks rather embarrassed, even if when he sees the other he hides it with his usual scowl - "What the hell took you so long, bastard?"
Antonio shakes his head. "Lo siento". He smiles and puts the lube on the coffee table next to the sofa, then sits with his lover and they restart kissing, slowly at first, but quickly resuming the furios pace. Antonio runs his hands over Lovino, dips a finger in the navel just because he can, pinches the nipples, caresses the back, while the other breaks the kiss again, but this time it's to use his teeth and tongue on the other's neck, making him shiver and moan.
"Ah, Lovi... You want..."
"Sì, sì, anch'io ti voglio, bastardo, contento?" the other answers, aggressive, between kisses.
"Oooh, you want me, that's cute-eh!" Lovino has bitten his lobe, hard. "No, I was say-ah!" He has licked the shell of his ear. "Want... to do... something... for me?" Antonio finally manages to ask, between pants.
Lovino stops, raising an eyebrow. "Like what?"
Antonio's smile is perfectly innocent. "Don't you trust me?"
"Hell, no."
"Aww. It's nothing too weird, I promise. I just want to look at you".
"What does that...AH!" Antonio grabs his erection like he owns it, making Lovino's body jerk violently, the sofa scratching on the floor again. The Italian suspects it's a trap, but when the bastard starts strocking he finds himself somewhat unable to focus.
Finally Antonio too is undressing, letting his trousers and boxers slide to the floor. He finds the bottle of lube and pours a generous amount of it, then grabs both their cocks and starts sliding his rough, calloused hand up and down, in a slow but steady rhythm that he knows drives his lover insane. Lovino retaliates with his mouth and hands, kissing and biting what he can reach and most of all twisting and pinching the other's nipples, because (and this is one of Antonio's best kept secrets) those nice dark nubs are extremely sensible, and when he torments them, the Spanish man whines and moans so nicely, Lovino could listen to him all day.
The sofa jerks again when the Spanish man starts climbing over his lover, who, for his part, lets himself be pushed against the arm, calling out the other's name. Lovino's neck is bent in a weird way and hurts a little, but they're flush against each other, kissing wildly, rubbig their slicked erections together, so it doesn't really matter. That is, until Antonio decides to stop, rising on his hands.
"What... the hell..." Lovino is breathing heavily, anger building quickly, looking at the other who's beaming down at him.
"Told you I wanted to look at you..."
"Well you just did. Come back down here!"
"No." Antonio starts to slide off him. "Wait a minute!" he says when Lovino attempts to hug him and, failing that, to headbutt him. "Can't you do this for me? Just this once?" Now he's sitting on his knees.
"Humpf. Do what?"
Antonio retrieves the bottle of lube from the coffee table and offers it to the other."Prepare yourself for me".
"...what?"
"Oh, you know... What I usually do to you, but you do it to yourself!" Big, brilliant, hopeful smile.
"...no".
"Aww. But you will like it!"
"No. I won't".
"Yes, you will". Antonio leans closer, his tone darker and huskier, the smile never leaving his face. "Do it for me, Lovi".
The other has a sharp intake of breath, hesitates, then takes the lube."Tch. Do you plan on sitting there like an idiot all the while?"
"Well, yes?" Antonio adjusts himself.
"Questa è una cazzata" Lovino comments, but he still spills lube on both his hands and starts stroking his half-hard cock. Antonio's expectant expression is both a bit comical and mildly arousing, but overall the whole thing is just embarrassing. He feels his own face blush wildly, and he half wants to call the whole endeavour off, but then something (probably his red face, actually) makes the other's jaw go a bit slack, his breathing faster.

Líbranos del Mal [1/2]

[(Anonymous)]

Request: http://hetalia-kink.livejournal.com/10530.html?thread=15595554#t15595554

Catholic Guilt!Spain and Romano





He had been trying so hard, he really had. He had thoughts about it, but what was important was that he hadn’t given in, he hadn’t touched himself when he had those thoughts. It had been torturous. The longer he went without a form of release, the more he wanted it.

So he had held his rosary to his heart, and recited prayers in his head. That’s what the solution was, to keep his mind off of those thoughts by focusing on his prayers. Apparently he hadn’t done it enough, because then he wouldn’t be in this situation.

He wondered how many prayers he would have to say after this. How long would the priest have him murmur those words of repentance, over and over, before his soul was cleansed again?

He could still turn away. He could save himself the humiliation, and he wouldn’t have to go to a confessional and say that he had sinned, and had touched another man. It was already bad enough that he so often had to reveal his sin of lust, repeated again and again in his dreams, as if to mock his attempts to remain sinless when he was awake.

But he wasn’t going to turn away. Not when Spain’s breath was hot against his cheek. Spain was smiling, a contrast with his terribly nervous eyes, glancing at him every so often.

He kept on kissing Romano’s cheek. Like he was trying to be chaste, like he was simply showing platonic affection.

But it was a ridiculous attempt at hiding his intentions. Despite his actions, his eyes were hungry, so nervous and ashamed but so hungry. Romano wondered if he looked similar, if the desperation was obvious in his eyes. But of course, Spain wasn't stupid, he knew what Romano wanted. He would have kicked Spain out of his room by now if he didn't want it.

Spain’s chaste kisses moved along his cheek, until he was kissing his mouth. The excitement Romano got from it was absurd. It was close-mouthed, but still, his pulse was quickening, and his toes curled.

Spain was a bastard, plain and simple. He was going to ruin this for both of them. If it weren’t for him this all wouldn’t be happening.

Spain’s arms were wrapped around him and he was being pulled closer, until he was pressed against Spain’s warm body. Spain’s touch was light, and Romano knew that he could pull away, if he honestly tried. But he felt trapped, with warmth engulfing him. The arms loosely wrapped around him were like heavy weights pinning him in place.

And a moment later, it’s all became worse. Spain’s arms suddenly pulled tighter round him, and his body was so tightly pressed against Spain’s that it was painful. He wasn’t simply trapped any longer, he was being attacked. He fell back against the soft covers of his bed quickly, and Spain was moving against him, slowly but forcefully. The arousal that spread through him was horrific, like in his dreams but so much worse.

Spain moved to burrow his head against Romano’s neck. It was almost like affection, but Romano knew that it wasn't, that Spain couldn’t bear to look at him any longer, consumed with guilt already.

But despite it all, Spain’s movements against him became even more strong, more uncontrolled. Romano, before he could stop himself, released a loud groan. It was disgusting, and it penetrated his ears ruthlessly. Spain must have been disgusted too, because Romano felt him shudder against his neck. Somehow the grip he had around Romano seemed to be even tighter.

They were like animals, rutting against one another. It was so vile he could have thrown up at the thought of it.

“Bastard,” he croaked out. His hands were suddenly at Spain’s shoulder, and he felt the soft fabric, digging his fingernails into it. “You bastard!”

Líbranos del Mal [2/2]

[(Anonymous)]

Spain didn’t respond. For some reason, Romano had expected him to.

Their clothing is still on, and as uncomfortable as it is, Romano prayed that Spain wouldn’t try to take their clothing off. If he came, fully clothed, perhaps he would he more easily forgiven. He would have touched another man, but not completely. Not touching his skin.

But he wanted so badly to touch skin. The clothing was so uncomfortable. It was making everything more tight and suffocating.

He couldn’t stop the groans then, his erection was grinding too tightly against Spain’s. He hated Spain for being so silent, for being composed even while he was being so bad, so sinful. Romano was a mess, making those awful noises and arching his back, like a whore. And Spain had made him like that.

His body began to convulse, and his fingernails dug even deeper into Spain’s shoulders, until he heard Spain gasp. He hoped he had drawn blood. Still, his body seemed uncontrolled, and his hips thrust up until he felt himself release, with a sickening moan accompanying it.

He released his hands from Spain, letting them fall to his sides. Spain was still moving against him. Despite everything, he felt angry that he was so much worse than Spain. Spain had initiated it, and he wanted to blame it on Spain. But who was the one who had moaned like a whore the entire time? Who was the one who had come first? It was him. He was so damned disgusting.

When Spain was done, they exchanged a glance, and Romano couldn’t help but glare at him. Spain was becoming more and more horrified, he realized. The comfort of release wasn’t able to comfort him for long. His lazily lidded eyes were widening, and he pulled away slowly, with a shudder.

He should feel bad. “Bastard,” Romano repeated, although it was weaker than before.

But now Spain responded, with a soft, “Lo siento.” His head was buried in his hands, and Romano considered leaving. It was his room, but Spain seemed stuck in place, and he didn’t feel like laying there (with dirtied clothing, even), watching Spain go through what he was already so familiar with.

But he couldn’t move, he felt so tired. He stared at the ceiling, trying to focus on something other than the sound of Spain praying.

He would be praying a lot the next day, anyway.

“No nos dejes caer en tentación y líbranos del mal.”

[(Anonymous)]

Authoranon saw this request and felt that she had to fill it. I tried but might have done a bit of grammar fail. Hopefully OP is okay with the outcome of the request. (It ended up involving lot's of more things then Norway having a sleepover at Englands place and America appearing) also authoranon did wiki search on history and hopefully everything turned around right.


Part 1 Chapter 1/3
Norway remembered that they had fought this battle together until the very end.
In 1940 he remembered Germany coming and knocking on his door and he remember how he promptly shut the door in his face when he heard his demands. Norway remembered those sleepless nights that followed; after all Germany demanded his surrender he didn't ask him for it. He remember laying in his bed listening to the gunfire down on the streets, the Nazis had started to occupy Oslo and his other cities at ones but he was going to fight until the end.
Then he'd been thanking both the christian god and his former gods that Iceland lived as far away from central Europe as he did.

He looked up from his bed, the sun was already starting to rise, the long winter really was over and it was spring. Normally Norway would welcome the warm sun and the longer days but the only thing he could think of was that the snow up in Narvik and Lofoten must have melted by now, making it easier for the German ships to enter the fjords.
He got up from bed and stepped outside. All he could see was an endless coast to his left and an endless coast to his right, this place had been idly to think, and he had needed a few days to think.

He'd declared himself neutral in this war but as Germanys appearance by his doorstep that day had proved, it wasn't going to matter. He took up his fishing rod and sat down by the small bridge outside his cottage. Technically the war had started then at his doorstep and the very same night the German ships had come and the attack had started. A month after the attack Norway had told his king he needed two days alone and his king had given him approval.
Then he had found out that Denmark was beaten and Sweden was neutral, so he could ask neither of them for help. He'd considered talking to Finland but Sweden had shaken his head and Norway had decided to trust his advice. For a moment he considered if he had done the right thing, certainly his naval force was something he was proud off but he knew that it wouldn't last for long, Germany had to much power to be defeated all his people could do right now was to prolong the process.
Norway bit his thumb, would be had done his people a favor if he hadn't refused Germany? After all it seemed like they were going to be invaded and turned over to his side the hard way; was his people dying and fighting in vain? Norway shook his head, he had more fighting spirit than this; but seeing Denmark so crushed and Sweden so silent did make him a bit uncertain.

Then he saw some ripples in the water and heard some steps on the bridge. Norway sighed, seemed time for negotiation and diplomacy was over for his part. He was proud on his peace policy and he didn't plan on fighting a battle were there would be more victims than victories. So he placed his fishing rod beside him and turned around.

Part 1 Chapter 2

[(Anonymous)]

“Prussia is it? Germanys brother?” Norway tilted his head a bit and looked the albino nation at the end of the bridge up and down. He wore a most spectacular black uniform and his expression matched it, he was grinning with delight.

“I didn't think I'd find you out here all by yourself Norway.” He started to walk out on the bridge and pointed his gun at the nordic nation. Norway just shrugged and upon doing so Prussias face turned from delighted grin to a wicked one, it almost looked like he had a problem holding his laughter. “Are you saying you aren't going to defend yourself?”

“My peace principle and lives of my people are more important in the long run than if you shoot me or not.”
Prussia looked shocked at first and then looked annoyed mumbled something Norway could guess was about his brother. The albino reached out his glove clad hand and gently clasped it around Norways throat.

“Heh, you aren't even going to resist this? Is keeping your neutrality and pacifism that important even after being invaded?”
Norway looked away, as if he was disinterested in Prussia. Then the grip around around Norways throat hardened and Prussia slammed him down on the bridge. “You better pay attention to me! Your capital is lost and our armies are invading already as we speak. No one is going to help you.”
Norway just kept looking off into the distance. “You ungrateful. I'm offering you a last chance here!” Prussia tightened his grip around Norways throat causing the nation to utter a squirm. This made Prussia pleased. “There you see what's going to happen to you? Don't you have any interest in saving Iceland the pain?”

Norway coughed as response but now returned to look Prussia in the eyes, and then proceeded to knee him between his legs.

Prussia squirmed and was about to bend over in pain but his rage got the better of him and he punched Norway in the face. Norways lip broke and he felt that a tooth was loose, but it was defiantly worth it, Norway actually caught himself grinning for a second. “Why you!” Prussia was just about to land a second punch at Norways face when he suddenly stopped midair and Norway saw that his jaw dropped and his eyes tightened.
He looked back trying to see what Prussia was looking at and to his surprise he saw a small sized cruiser. It was the type of cruiser that certainly wasn't a war boat but when his eyes followed up to the deck of the boat stood a blond man pointing a rifle at Prussias head; and Prussia looked displeased to say the least.

“Britain. Fucking Great Britain.” Prussia bit his lip and was just about to think up a good escape plan or temporary bargain when he saw that the grip of the rifle wasn't steady and the Briton was sweating and he remembered something. “You can't hold that position forever.” and he smirked. “You know what my brother is doing to France right now as we speak.”
To that England simply fired one shot just beside Prussias head and Prussia let go of Norways throat in a mere second and moved a few steps back on the bridge. Then England lowered his weapon and instead looked at Norway who just got standing.

“Are you coming?”
Norway looked pondering for a moment.

“You're a bit late cousin but sure I'll come with you, just make sure he doesn't shoot my back.” Norway said calmly and started climbing on board the cruiser.

“Right, right I'll keep that in check and I'm not your bloody cousin!” England stuttered out and Norway could tell he was blushing, did he still have commitment issues? In a way, he figured, England was similar to Iceland.

The Dominion [1/5]

[(Anonymous)]

http://hetalia-kink.livejournal.com/10960.html?thread=20402896#t20402896 Original request. I didn't use one from the possible new states list, but one that was somewhat a state that failed quickly.

-------------------------------------------------------------


England had never felt the need to run back to his own country so badly as he did that one morning. There was no way he could face America after what he did. Edmund Andros had taken him out to drink and that they did. He went on and on about his new idea, the Dominion of New England. And England loved every word of it. Less trouble managing the colonies if they were all one big group, right?

And in his drunken haze England had gone back to America's home, only to find the boy curled up in his bed, as if he had a nightmare and was seeking England’s protection without him there. The thoughts running through his head from his intoxicated stupor were absolutely vile and despicable, yet he couldn’t resist crawling into his bed and pulling the boy close, eliciting a startled gasp from the boy.

“E-England! You’re b-back!” America had squirmed in his grasp, obviously worried about what the drunk man was thinking.

“‘course I ish. Couldn’t leave mah beaut’ful little Americah all alones now could I?” England purred, nuzzling the boy’s neck. The words of Edmund Andros still rang in his ears. An easy way to rein in the colonies. Just make one to rule them all. A dominion with America of a New England. It was the greatest plan that had ever been discussed involving his precious ward.

“England, you reek.” America shivered, eyes darting across the room in a bit of a confused panic.

“‘s the alcohol, but ‘s a great thing ya know.” England sighed as he let go of America and sat up on the bed to look him over. He adored this boy more than anything. His skin was so dark from the sun you’d believe he could shine brighter than it at will and mixed with his gorgeous blue eyes that were absolutely shimmering right now (In worry, but of course England didn’t pick up on that key fact) he was absolutely breath-taking. And here he was, in his bed of all places.

“England…?” America shifted uncomfortably, obviously confused by the looks he was getting.

“I love ya, ya know that, right?”

“I know that, brother.” America spat the last word, face locked in a frown. England held back the need to laugh. That whole façade about being brothers had outlasted it’s welcome.

“Not brothers.” England whispered seductively near America’s ear. “Nay, I want so much more, mah beaut’ful, precioush, wonderful Americah.”

“E-England?” America turned to look up at him, blue eyes searching for a trace of a lie across England’s face. But the Briton was giving his heart and soul to the boy and as he pulled him up into a passionate kiss, America melted into it, seemingly ready and more than willing to give England his all. Looking back to the drunken slurs and the kisses stolen, England felt nauseous. He had taken the boy’s most valuable possession. His innocence.

When England awoke the next morning with a pounding head, he had nearly screamed in terror when he found the younger man’s limbs twined around his own with his face buried in the crook of his neck, innocent face smiling serenely in his sleep. England untangled himself and ran from the house as fast as his nimble legs would take him to the shore, where he boarded the very first ship back home.

After cursing himself and that night with everything he had during the two months on the ship, England couldn’t get his mind off of finding a way to apologize. He knew nothing he did would ever make up for such a heinous thing, but he couldn’t just leave the boy alone and probably confused and scarred after such a thing. So once he arrived back in his country, he got on the ship that was leaving that day to sail back to America. The poor child probably had so many thoughts going through his mind that England wasn't there to answer. He couldn't allow such a thing to happen to him.

Re: The Dominion [2a/5]

[(Anonymous)]

After two more months, England felt he had somewhat of an explanation to give America. Sure, nothing he said could make what he did right, but he had to try. He stepped off of the boat in Massachusetts and looked around. Not a sight of the young boy anywhere to be found. But he did see another familiar face walking nearby, grumbling angrily to himself.

His eyebrows were large just like England’s but he had America’s shimmering blue eyes. It was the embodiment of Massachusetts, one of the first colony children England and America had found. They seemed just like their children and even referred to them as father and mother respectively, but they weren't their flesh and blood. They were embodiments of the land, just as America was the embodiment of them as a whole.

“Massachusetts!” England called, making the boy jump and turn around.

“Dad? What’re you doing here?” Massachusetts asked nervously. England looked away and bit his lip.

“I need to see America to apologize. Do you know where he is?” He mumbled, absently kicking the ground below his feet. Massachusetts’ eyes narrowed and he pointed in the direction of America’s home.

“In there. Seeing as now I have to pick up his jobs around the colony because of that. Really. Thanks England.” Massachusetts growled as he walked off to town. England’s eyes widened. Oh no, he hadn’t truly broken America, had he? He sprinted to the house and burst through the front door, only to see America resting on a chair in the main room with his back to him.

Next Winter's Snow 1

[(Anonymous)]

Original request: http://hetalia-kink.livejournal.com/632.html?thread=429176#t429176
This anon wanted to write something about Russia and General Winter too...

Russia hates when the first snow falls. His mood is so dark that Estonia hides, Latvia falls over his own legs (to Russia's joy, because it gives him a reason to punish the boy for being clumsy) and Lithuania tries to continue on with the day like normal as if it could force it to become so.

But nothing about this day is normal. When the first snow falls it's time to renew the pact with Winter.


Early in the morning Russia walks out alone and doesn't look back. Snow is falling around him and covers everything. If he was in a better mood he would have called the sight in front of him beautiful.

This year he doesn't have to wander far, the wind begins to whisper right before night falls.

“Why do you hate me so Kiev?”

“The Soviet Union should need no one.”

Laughter fills the air.

“We always need each other you and I, you need someone to fight to stay strong even now. And when your enemies overrun you, as they always do, I am there for you. We are hopelessly tangled together, now and forever.”

It's true no matter how Russia would like to deny it.


France reputation for not keeping his hands to himself made Russia nauseous. France overrunning Europe and now coming for him made him tremble inside. But he survived worse. He might even win this one.

“Leave nothing but ashes behind,” Winter urged. “I will take care of the rest.”

My capital, Russia wanted to protest. My people. But Winter was always right about these things. Russia withdrew and cried when his capital burned.

“Take your revenge now,” Winter suggested and Russia gathered his forces and set out after France. It felt great when France fell before him. Almost good enough to make up for the rest.

“How does it feel?” he asked France. “How does it feel to lose?”

France yelled and cursed him in France. Russia held his enemy down in the snow and laughed.

“It's your fault my capital is gone,” he said, even though France seemed to not understand Russian. “Now you will pay.”

Winter drew the warmth from France and made him tremble while Russia stripped him down and violently flipped him over. Russia had already learned that there was nothing quite like the sobs of a humiliated beaten enemy. The mere thought of reducing France into that made him hard and he pushed himself into the defeated nation without mercy, claiming the little warmth he had left.

“Never return,” he whispered in France, because Russia was not as uneducated as some thought. “Remember this, Russia can never be beaten.”

“Y-yes,” France whimpered in agreement and the broken voice of the nation who thought he was unbeatable only months ago was enough to push Russia over the edge. He came and carelessly withdrew, leaving France to bleed in the snow.

Strangely enough France showed him respect after that. Perhaps France had used enough fallen enemies to not take it personal when it happened to him.



I don't think there is any canon on this so I decided that Russia can't see General Winter even if they talk constantly. Current time Soviet Russia refuses to acknowledge that the winter is general over anything, thus only calling him Winter.

Re: Next Winter's Snow 1

[(Anonymous)]

Wow Anon! Nice prose there... Do want!

[Part 7] Experiment [2/?]

[(Anonymous)]

China/Japan, forced bladder desperation

Prompt and first part of fill: http://hetalia-kink.livejournal.com/10960.html?thread=20757968#t20757968

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Japan took a deep breath a reluctantly took the bag of clothes from China.

“Couldn't I change in the bathroom?” he asked as calmly as he could.

“Why, aru? Just change here. I won't look.” As if to prove this, China covered his eyes with his hands and turned his back. And that was that. Japan could either hold out a while longer and try the dress on, or admit just how urgent his need was...no, it wasn't that urgent. He could wait the five extra minutes this would take. He wasn't a child, for Kami's sake.

It was good that China wasn't looking; Japan was able to squeeze his thighs together and press a hand between his legs a few times while getting dressed without the older country noticing. He couldn't have squirmed so childishly in front of China, but it was worth that small, private embarrassment to get a little relief from the building pressure. The dress wasn't too hard to get on and neither were the panties, but the stockings gave him a little trouble. He had to balance on one leg to pull each one on, and it was while he was hoping on one leg that his bladder spasmed again. He nearly lost his balance (he shuddered to think what would have happened if he had actually fallen all the way) and had to grab himself with both hands until the worst of it was over.

His face was quite red by the time he was fully dressed (both from the clothes and the awkward position he was in), and he cleared his throat to alert China was he was done.

“Ah, so cute, aru!” China gushed when he turned around. “It suits you! I knew it would!”

To Japan's horror, China threw his arms around him, squeezing tightly, putting even more pressure on his overfull bladder. Japan bit his lip and curled his toes, trying to fight off the newest wave of desperation China was causing, and finally decided enough was enough.

“Ch-China, I really need-” he began, but suddenly there was a metallic 'click' as something clenched around his left wrist. It took a second for Japan's brain to catch up to what had just happened; China had put a handcuff on him. Before he could respond or fight back, China drug him over onto the hotel bed and fastened the other end of the handcuffs to the frame of the bed.

“China, what are-” he gasped, but the older country just grabbed his other wrist and repeated the procedure, forcing Japan to lie on his back on the bed, both hands trapped. China had gotten his arms down in such a way that he had hardly any room to move, certainly not enough to sit up or stand. How had the older country moved so fast?

“You look even cuter like this,” China sang happily, suddenly looking a lot less innocent. “I'm going to have so much fun with you, aru~”

Experiment [3/?]

[(Anonymous)]

“China, I-I...” Japan stopped, swallowed, and tried to continue. “I'll do whatever you want later, but I-I need to use the restroom now-”

“I know,” China said softly. “Did you think I didn't see you dancing around like a little boy? You're so silly.”

Japan tried to wrap his mind around this, when a blinking red light behind China caught his eye. A camera, there was a video camera sitting on the table, aimed right at Japan. Oh Kami, China had planned this from the start, hadn't he?

“What do you want from me?” he asked frankly, excepting the worst now.

“Oh, I'm just trying to help you, aru!” China insisted, waving his hands innocently. “I was just on the internet a while back, and I found this interesting videos by someone called Kiki-chan-” Oh no, Japan thought, oh no. “And I watched for a while and then I realized, ah, it's Japan! It was the scar on your hip that gave it away, when you were getting undressed for the clip when you did naughty things with vegetables. But you were clever to hide your face and voice, I wouldn't have guessed other wise! And I thought, Japan is trying all these interesting things, but he always does them by himself, aru. Maybe he could use some help for one of his videos? And so I looked up new fetishes you haven't done yet on your little show, and I found this one called 'omorashi'-”

“China,” Japan interrupted desperately. “I-I appreciate your offer to help, but I prefer to work alone, and I don't know if I'm ready to try anything...quite like that.” It was true; while he had tried a great deal of different things already, he wasn't comfortable with bladder play yet...especially not in a situation like this, where China had all the control over him...and a camera ready to record every humiliating moment of it.

“I'm not just doing this for you, aru,” China snapped, leaning over Japan on the bed. “You're such a troublesome child. This is a little punishment, aru. And it'll all be recorded. I set up a bunch of camera, so we'll get lots of different angles to use on your web show.”

He leaned even closer then, dropping a kiss on Japan's cheek, then down to his neck, moving lower and lower, nipping at skin through the material of the dress until he reached the panties.

“Don't look so worried, aru,” China assured him with a wicked smile as he eased the panties down and wrapped a hand around Japan's cock. To the younger country's humiliation, it was already half hard. Why did it have to do that when his bladder was too full? “I'll make it feel good.”

“Ch-China,” Japan choked, hating the little whimper in his voice, hating to even have to say these things, “I d-don't know what you want, but I don't think I'll be able to last very long-”

“Don't worry,” China repeated, and pressed one more kiss to Japan's shaft, forcing Japan to tighten his muscles to avoid letting go right then and there, “I asked the hotel manager to put a plastic sheet on the bed. I said I'd be staying with a little boy who has accidents sometimes, aru.”

Japan had thought his face couldn't get any redder. He was wrong.

Not in Kansas Anymore (1/2)

[(Anonymous)]

Original Request: http://hetalia-kink.livejournal.com/10960.html?thread=19682512#t19682512
America and England encountering the Westboro Baptist Church.

This took forever to actually post! Sorry if it's not what OP had in mind...this is anon's first post, so please be kind!
---
Nowadays, Alfred generally avoided Kansas whenever possible, not because he didn’t love his little boy, but because they just weren’t…seeing eye to eye lately. Unfortunately, Kansas apparently couldn’t keep his people to himself and they were currently crawling all over Boston.
Alfred sighed when the first protest signs appeared in his line of sight. There was the classic God Hates Fags message, but someone had gotten creative and added illustrations. That made Alfred laugh, or it would have if he was busy rolling his eyes. Beside him, Arthur stiffened a second later.
Oh crap. Arthur had no experience with the Westboro Baptist Church. Not up close. They were banned from ever entering his land, but to America’s knowledge, they’d never had a face-to-face encounter. And he’d been hoping to spend a nice day with Arthur up until just two seconds ago. He’d have to arrange a sit down talk with Kansas.
In the meantime, Arthur had wrenched his hand out of the loose grip Alfred had worked so hard to get. The Briton was stalking angrily toward a group consisting of mostly adults with two or more anti-gay posters and their children who’d been consigned into holding hate signs of their own. That was the one thing that would never stop irritating Alfred; the kids getting forced into the whole ordeal.
“What the bloody fuck do you think you’re doing?!” Arthur was using the f-bomb already. Not a good sign. Alfred continued walking toward him, sighing at Arthur’s hot-headedness. Well, this was an interesting reversal of roles. “Do you not care that you’re hurting people? What about God makes you think he hates anyone?”
Alfred had caught up with him, and placed a hand on his shoulder. “It’s free speech, Arthur. They’re just looking for attention.” Arthur whipped around to glare at him.
“That’s what’s wrong with your country!” he ranted angrily, letting his annoyance carry him. “Freedom of speech…bah! If you didn’t– ”
“Fags are what’s wrong with this country.” One woman had felt the need to speak her piece. “God is punishing America for accepting homos.”
Alfred and Arthur were both silent staring at her for a moment, then Alfred spoke. “Well, the lady seems pretty sure of herself. Let’s go. You shouldn’t let ‘em bug you.” Alfred’s hand ran down Arthur’s arm in a comforting gesture.
The woman scoffed at the obviously affectionate motion, but said nothing, probably hoping they would just leave. However, a little boy took up where she left off, shouting, “God hates fags! You’re going to hell!”

Re: Not in Kansas Anymore (2/2)

[(Anonymous)]

Alfred’s hand froze where it rested on Arthur’s wrist while his eyes clenched shut. Kids. Really, that was his weakness, always would be. When Alfred opened his eyes, Arthur must have seen a hint of his intent, but looked more justified than anything else. There was little resistance when Alfred lifted him by the waist, moving forward to pin Arthur against the building the Westboro Baptist people had gathered around.
Without giving the older man any time to adjust to his position, Alfred began attacking Arthur’s mouth with a vengeance. Arthur groaned in response and wrapped arms and legs around Alfred so that there was no space between their bodies. Kisses became opened mouthed in no time and Alfred had to keep from grinning when Arthur started to grind up against him, making more noise than usual, for their audience he was sure. He played along gladly, slipping one arm under Arthur’s shirt and moving to suck at his throat hard enough that Arthur’s breathlessness was for real. Alfred fought another self-satisfied smirk. Aggression always kinda did it for Arthur anyway.
Within thirty seconds, Alfred could feel the effects of their aggressive make out session pressing into his stomach. Pausing to think it over for less than a second, he lowered Arthur onto his feet, then dropped to his knees. With hands placed on Arthur’s hips, fingertips worming under his waistband, Alfred grinned up at Arthur. The Briton looked back, face flushed and breathing hard in the most pleasant way.
“I’ll be in trouble if I go down on you in public, won’t I?” Arthur breathed for a few seconds, just to make sure he still could, then nodded shakily. Alfred shrugged in response. Expecting him to stand up or back off, Arthur was caught unawares when Alfred mumbled 'pants on then...' and proceeded to press his mouth to Arthur’s crotch anyway.
Arthur gasped, hands scrabbling for purchase on the wall at his back. Satisfied that he’d reduced his lover to wordless deep breaths, Alfred rose to his feet and turned to face the WBC. He looked at the little boy in particular; whose mouth had dropped open in a shocked O.
“Does that look like someone in hell to you?” Alfred could hear Arthur softly cussing him out at his back, but ignored it knowing the smaller man’s face would be telling a very positive story.
The boy started to shake his head, but was stopped by a woman Alfred presumed was his mother clapping hands over his ears. The woman started in on yelling her head off at Alfred, but he ignored her in favor of scooping Arthur into his arms.
“Wanna go home?” he asked in a quiet purr against Arthur’s skin. An approving sigh was breathed back against his own, and Alfred walked past all the hate signs to return home and finish the job he’d started.

Russia/America - affectionate insults

[(Anonymous)]

Tick [1/2]

[(Anonymous)]

In the middle of the night, the hour hand on their relationship's clock strikes.

His fingernails dig into Russia's back, and leave blood-spotted scratches up to his shoulder blades. Russia bites down hard on his lip in return. In the morning, it will be swollen twice its size, and tender to the touch, but right now that doesn't matter. Nothing matters, in fact, except the pleasure that rolls up in America's belly with every animalistic thrust of Russia's hips against his own.

His eyelashes flutter.

It's a momentary weakness, but when America's gaze refocuses Russia is staring down at him.

His smile says that he's seen everything.

Noise builds in America's throat, a flushed growl that solidifies into the words, "Put a sock in it, you commie son of a bitch." He punctuates this by squeezing Russia's ribs until he thinks he might break them, and Russia's chest shudders with involuntary spasms of pain.

"I didn't say anything." Russia laughs.

It's a sound that should be charming, but isn't. It's cold, creepy, and makes America swallow and loosen his grip without really thinking about it. Russia grins in the most annoyingly patronising way, and tells him, "Don't be such an asshole, America."

"Fuck off," America snarls.

He can tell that Russia's about to start laughing at him again. He can just tell, and so, before he has time to consider the consequences, America shoves Russia away from him, upsetting the delicate balance of their positions, and then twists so that when Russia falls (like the deadweight he is) he lands underneath America. His expression gives away just how stunned he is, traces of panic beginning to creep into those eerie near-violet eyes.

America grins.

He gets his fingers up under one of the folds of Russia's scarf, and yanks so that it stretches taut over his throat. His lips peel back from his teeth, the lower aching from Russia's earlier bite, and he growls, "That wasn't a suggestion."

"Bastard," Russia returns. His voice rises almost into a shriek as he adds, "Selfish pig."

He lunges up, and America's breath catches. He scrambles for purchase on the floor beneath them, tangling his fingers into the thick carpet and holding as tight as he can. He whips around to stare at his (for now) captive, his glasses askew and smudged with fingerprints, turning the world into a blurry thing filled with (even more) danger.

Russia lunges again, and this time gets his arm up to strike at America's face.

The impact of Russia's knuckles against his cheekbone catch him by surprise, and America bites down hard on his own tongue before he can stop himself. He yells, incoherent, and pulls harder on Russia's scarf. Russia shrieks.

"Let go," he cries, "Let go of me you selfish, selfish..."

His words trail off, becoming gibberish half in Russian half in something America cannot name. It makes him rock back onto his calves, and release his hold on the fabric around Russia's throat with shaking fingers.

He spits out the blood pooling in his mouth, and sighs. "Don't take it so seriously, cry baby. You're ruining my good time." His smile is stained, but genuine, and he reaches up to straighten his glasses so that he can see.

Russia swallows several times. The rise and fall of his chest evens out.

He closes his eyes, opens them, and then he laughs, the sound raw and grating, making gooseflesh spring up along America's spine, but he doesn't look away. He's seeing Russia at his most vulnerable, his most passionate, his most alive.

It doesn't matter how scary it is.

He refocuses, licks the metallic tang from his lips, and aligns his and Russia's hips once again.

Russia catches America by the wrist. His teeth flash, and his tongue is wet and warm when he begins to suck yet again on the inside of America's wrist, thus beginning the cycle anew, with the minute hand ticking over to a new day.

Vote Yes For Independency [2a/?]

[(Anonymous)]

This is continued from here: http://hetalia-kink.livejournal.com/10456.html?thread=24755160#t24755160

Sorry it took me so long for this. My historical!hetalia muse wasn't working right. Of course, if at 1776/Hetalia crossover could be truly historical. This is for the historical!anons and the musical fans.

I know it's starting out a tiny bit slow, but I promise, next part is better.

---------
The next morning, he decided keeping silent was quite overrated. “We’re going to go see Benjamin Franklin. I get to meet Benjamin Franklin.”

“I thought we agreed on no talking,” Adams said, more amused than angry at him.

“But-but…Benjamin Franklin!”

“Speaking of which…” They had entered the green in the middle of the city, and Adams must have spied him, because he started shouting, in that loud voice of his, “Franklin! I see you hiding behind that tree! It won’t do you any good!” America stifled laughter, and followed after Adams, who stomped over to where Franklin was having his picture painted.

“Franklin, where were you last night? You should have heard what I suffered in there.”

“Of course I did, along with the rest of Philadelphia.” He turned to America, who was staring at him. “And who is this?”

“Alfred Jones. He practically fell on me last night on the street and seems to feel like following me about. Can’t get rid of him,” Adams said, distracted. “He doesn’t matter right now. Franklin, what are we going to do?”

Franklin wasn’t listening, just got up, and walked over to America, who almost felt nervous. Almost. “You seem familiar.”

“You’ve never seen me before,” America returned. This was actually the first time he’d been in Philadelphia, so it was true. All of this time, he’d been shut in his house in Virginia or in the company of England. This was the first time he had snuck out on his own.

“That’s strange. I have a feeling I see you every day,” Franklin said, and then turned to Adams, who was anxiously trying to get his attention. They started to walk towards the fountain, and America trailed after, distracted and worried. That remark was not a good sign. Especially since he knew Franklin traveled in Europe and was well read. Had he somehow heard something, a whisper? Did he know he was, well, America?

“Get someone else to put forth the motion,” America heard Franklin say, and jogged to catch up to them. Get somebody else to try to ask for independence? Well, it was a good idea, because most of the delegates didn't like Adams hounding them about it. Perhaps it would work if it were somebody else.

“…Who did you have in mind?” Adams asked finally. Franklin shrugged and bent down to sniff a lilac.

“I don’t know. I haven’t given it much thought.”

Vote Yes For Independency [2b/?]

[(Anonymous)]

“Woohoo! You sent for me, Benjamin?” And a loud man on a horse rode up to them, and America grinned. He was already starting to like Franklin, and he had only known him for less than ten minutes. They started to talk, and America was content to stay sitting on the edge of the fountain, watching them.

“As you know, the cause we support has come to a complete standstill,” Franklin said. America tilted his head. They weren’t going to ask him outright? Well, then it would have still been their idea…

“Well, that’s easy. Johnny here is obnoxious and disliked.” America quickly stifled laughter as Adams caught his eye and raised an eyebrow. Okay, no laughing at the man who was kind enough to let him follow him around.

“We thought that if perhaps someone else were to propose independence, there would be a better reception. Someone who is well-respected in Congress…” Franklin said, and gave a substantial pause. The man-America really needed to get his name-brightened.

“Damn me if I hadn’t thought of someone!”

“Who?” Adams and Franklin said the exact same time.

“Me!”

Franklin feigned surprise. “Now why didn’t I think of that?” America did burst out laughing this time, and Franklin looked at him and winked. He smiled back, wondering if Franklin did know who he was, or just thought he was a seventeen-year old boy who had tagged along.

He went to stand next to them as the man jumped on his horse with a spring.

“Don’t worry, I’ll get you your resolution for independency! Me, Richard Henry Lee, of Virginia, the first colony! The home of our esteemed commander-in-chief, George Washington!” Well, at least he had a name now.

“Incredible. We’re free and he hasn’t even left yet,” Adams said dryly. America just suppressed a crazy urge to whoop and yell. This felt right, like it was supposed to happen this way. Maybe he was a lucky charm, or maybe it was just his Nation-ness working.

“Well, I like him,” he countered, ignoring Adams’ look of surprise and Franklin’s look of triumph. Lee peered down on him from his horse.

“Do I know you? You look familiar.” Were they all going to say that? But unlike Franklin, Lee seemed almost clueless, so he figured there was no way he could have figured it out.

“I get that a lot,” he said. “And with all due respect, um, shouldn’t you be going?” Lee shook his head, as if snapping out of a trance. America realized he had to be careful, especially with all the patriotic feelings going about. He could influence people too easily.

“Of course, to Virginia! Forward ho!” And he rode out of the park like all Hell was after him, scaring some chickens and a poor woman on the street.

“You like him?” Adams said, turning to America. He just smiled mysteriously, shrugging. “And how does everybody know you?” Adams also received a shrug for that. “Are you going to shrug at everything I say?”

“Oh, John, stop questioning the poor boy. After all, he’s willing attached himself to you. He must have fortitude unlike anyone else. Or must be deaf,” Franklin added after a moment’s pause. America realized that Franklin had somehow come to his rescue. Adams just glared at him.

“I just have a good feeling about it is all. He seems like a person who can do what needs to be done,” America finally said, kicking a rock. “And I do not know how everybody knows me.” Liar. He shouldn’t be lying to him. Shouldn’t he be telling the truth to Adams, who wanted independence perhaps more than he did himself?

But he had a feeling if he did, that he wouldn’t be believed.

Poland/Germany - Fat Thursday

[(Anonymous)]

Request here: http://hetalia-kink.livejournal.com/3274.html?thread=2885066#t2885066

----

It turned out to be a surprisingly nice day, all things considered. Poland had some doubts about spending Fat Thursday with Germany (the guy was so stiff iron was bendy in comparision), but those proved quite unfounded. That is, Germany had been stiff and awkward, and well, Germany, but wasn’t opposed to eating pączki.

Come to think of it, he had been kind of cute. He actually made the treats, which was like totally super cute and awesome. Poland didn’t neglect to tell this Germany and had quite a lot of fun seeing the other nation blush like a tomato.

“It’s like totally easy,” Poland said. “Come on, say it with me: pączek.”

“D-don’t be silly,” Germany said and promptly took a bite of a Berliner just to be sure Poland wouldn’t harass him like that. He had tried to say the stupid word several times already and couldn’t get it right.

“It’s like ‘ą’,” Poland continued, completely ignoring Germany’s protests. “You were nearly there the last time. Now stop stuffing your face and, like, try again.”

“Pontschek?”

“Awmigod, I told you already,” Poland groaned, somewhat theatrically. “Pączek. It’s not ‘on’ it’s totally ‘ą’.”

“I can’t hear the difference,” Germany grumbled, looking away.

This was just what Poland had been waiting for. The smaller nation didn’t waste time and without a warning landed on Germany’s lap, his nose touching the other’s cheek. He licked a bit of icing that remained on Germany’s cheek and grinned deviously, as he watched the blonde blush and stutter incoherently.

Icing was the best.

Re: Poland/Germany - Fat Thursday

[(Anonymous)]

That was adorable, anon! <3 I love how you wrote those two. Plus I loved how Poland was trying to get Germany to pronounce that word correctly. xD Ahahaha, don't worry, I probably couldn't pronounce 'Pączek' either.

Oh lol, the ending was win as well. <3

Cripes, I want to eat donuts now. :c And it's 1:26 AM. x'D