Past-Part Fills Part 7

[hetalia_kink]

Past-Part Fills Part Seven

Fills from past parts can go here!
Fills from the current part MUST go in that part's post until it is full.

Include a link to the original request (and if an ongoing fill, any previous chapters/sections).

The 'Anything Goes' request is here if you need it.

Then, don't forget to link your new fill at the fill index and under the original request.

Keep yourself up to date: check out the news.
Comments and Suggestions go here.

Past-Part Fills 1 | Past-Part Fills 2 | Past-Part Fills 3 | Past-Part Fills 4 | Past-Part Fills 5 | Past-Part Fills 6

Comments

[Part 3] You Can't Hide Forever -All nations

[(Anonymous)]

Link to parts 1-6 in Part 3 : http://hetalia-kink.livejournal.com/4567.html?thread=7930839#t7930839

Link to part 6-11 in part 4: http://hetalia-kink.livejournal.com/6850.html?thread=8215490#t8215490

Link to parts 12-23 in part 5: http://hetalia-kink.livejournal.com/9482.html?thread=11793930#t11793930

Link to parts 20-24 in past part fills 1(revised 20-23 plus 24)
http://hetalia-kink.livejournal.com/10456.html?thread=14722520#t14722520

Link to parts 25-32 in past part fills 3:
http://hetalia-kink.livejournal.com/15769.html?thread=41504153#t41504153

Link to parts 33-34 in past part fills 5:
http://hetalia-kink.livejournal.com/18772.html?thread=77593428#t77593428

You Can't Hide Forever 35/?

[(Anonymous)]

It's been a while hasn't it? Sorry about that. College is a killer.

In Thailand

Hong Kong slammed a fist down onto the computer desk, making Thailand jump in surprise and for Russia to give him a questioning look.

“Damn it,” he said. “I wasn’t able to warn them at all!”

Thailand tilted his head in confusion. “Warn them about what?”

“Before the meeting I was informed that my home had been ransacked and the criminals stole my address book with nearly all of the locations of our other homes,” answered Hong Kong. “We could be in even more danger now.”

“What?!” exclaimed Thailand. “Can they find us here then?”
“Thankfully, no they can’t,” Hong Kong let out a sigh and slumped in his seat. “I was smart enough not to put the address for my apartment here in that book. After all, why put the addresses for my own homes in my address book?”

“Well that’s true.”

“So,” interrupted Russia, who had been silent for a while, “We need figure out a way to warn everyone about this problem, huh?” He rose from his chair and adjusted his scarf. “Or shall I say you need to figure out a way.”

Hong Kong sat up straight in his chair and stared at Russia with confusion. “Us?” he asked. “You aren't going to help?”

Russia shook his head no. “I have things I need to attend to first, like my own investigation to find out who did this to us. If I have time, maybe I’ll help you.” He started to walk to the door and paused before exiting the room. He turned his head and looked at both Hong Kong and Thailand. “Oh yes, I almost forgot. You are free to leave but don’t try to leave the city. If you do, you will greatly regret it.” With that he left.

Hong Kong scoffed. “Jerk. Who does he think he is? Doesn't want to help and then tell us not to leave the city. He doesn't tell me what to do.” He rose from his seat. “Come on Thailand, let’s go. I’m going to need your help with this.”

"My help? But-"

"I'll tell you later. Let's go Thailand!"

"Alright."

(Part 9) Minifills from the HRPG, various pairings.

[(Anonymous)]

Request found here: http://hetalia-kink.livejournal.com/12046.html?thread=27371790#t27371790

Placeholder entry.

Canada/Iceland - Kissing & Multiple partners

[(Anonymous)]

It starts with kisses.

Kiss. “Have you ever?” Half-sentences and left-out words. The shape of the question filling in what wasn’t there.

Modesty. Canadian modesty, broaching the topic without stooping to the words. Not a problem. Iceland is the same way.

Kiss. “Yes.” No need to elaborate.

Kiss. “Who?” That is… less easy to decipher. Who was first? The last? A list of all? Iceland draws back to think.

Shakes his head. “What do you mean?”

A slight, almost diffident shrug. “Just…who?”

Another kiss, this one deeper. Iceland opens his mouth to Canada’s tongue. Their teeth clack together. It’s not painful, just clumsy.

From the beginning, then. That seems simplest.

“Norway.” A light kiss pressed to the corner of Canada’s mouth, like the faint brush of Norway’s lips down his spine. Draw back.

“Denmark.” A harder, more demanding kiss. Their mouths open again, more surely this time.

“Hong Kong.” He nips Canada’s lower lip, just enough for it to sting like a fire-spark.

“Argentina.” Mouths open, tongues twisting along each other, sensual. Their teeth do not touch. Withdraw again.

“Lithuania.” Chaste once more. Lips gentle and warm.

He sits back on his heels. “And you. If you want.”

Canada blinks at him, looking mildly pole-axed. Iceland has the sinking feeling that he’s blown it.

Fortunately, before he can start to move away, Canada grabs him by the upper arms and pulls him in for a kiss that has nothing whatsoever in the way of modesty, and a great deal in the way of promise.

Oh, yes.

[Part 4] Italy/Germany post-WWII

[(Anonymous)]

Original request: http://hetalia-kink.livejournal.com/6850.html?thread=8386754#t8386754

I-idk if this can make any sense historically, but after reading all these great angsty fics about Germany after WWII, I'd rather like to read an N.ItalyxGermany (order of names not THAT important) fic set after the same (directly or much later) where they...well, make up. some H/C would be ok too
Angst would be great, but so would a happy hopeful ending. :3

B: Germany has scars which remind N.I. of Grandpa Rome's. Please, you'd have my soul. ¤_¤
(smut/not and names and such all the same to me, really. :)

Author!anon doesn't know if anyone is still looking at this, but here goes...

... I have no title for this

[(Anonymous)]

Preliminary notes: Signor Segni is Antonio Segni, president of Italy from 1962-1964. He was quite frail.
Straciatella: Roman egg drop soup
And yes, Prussia is female in this.

Germany does not have much human (or Nation) contact after the war ends. He rather expects this, and does understand it- if someone else had done what he had, he would avoid them.

Ordinarily Prussia- East Germany, he has to remind himself- would be there, all obnoxious laughter and your awesome sister can't let you mope, Lutz, now let's get drunk! but she's with Russia, a firm believer in satellite states need not attend meetings when I am there for them.

And Veneziano- well, he hasn't spoken to Veneziano since 1943. This is odd- before then, Veneziano couldn't seem to go five minutes without chattering at Germany, or showing him something, or just rubbing his head on Germany's arm like a giant cat- but again, entirely expected. Veneziano has no reason to want to speak to Germany; rather, he has every right to avoid Germany, and appears to be exercising those rights.

That is, until the otherwise unremarkable day in March of 1964, when Germany opens the door to his Bonn flat and comes face to face with a nervously grinning Veneziano.

"Uh. Hi Germany!" He says with nearly all the brightness Germany remembers. Peering around him to peek at the inside of the sparse flat, he adds, "Can I come in?"

Germany steps aside, a little numbly, and hangs up Veneziano's coat. He notes that Veneziano is holding a small bouquet- tulips. He says quietly, "Would you like to sit down?"

Veneziano promptly does so, on the couch, and pats the spot next to him. "You should sit down too, it's your house! And, oh, here, I got you flowers!" He thrusts the bouquet towards Germany, who takes it with a small blush and throat-clearing.

Silence falls over the pair. Germany fiercely represses the urge to squirm, failing when Veneziano leans his head on Germany's shoulder.

He should say something. "So. Veneziano. Um, how is your economy?"

"Mm. It's fine. Yours?"

"It's been worse."

And the dreaded silence falls again.

This time, it is Veneziano who breaks it. "Hey, Germany?"

"Yes?"

"Are you eating enough?" Veneziano sits upright and half-turns to face Germany. "Because you look kind of thin and also tired even though you're still scary and muscly but I really don't think you're getting fed enough at all so can I make you dinner?"

Germany blinks, unused to hearing such long sentences without pausing, but acquiesces all the same.

"Just don't make too much of a mess."

Veneziano cheers a little and jumps up, and then Germany's heart stutters completely unbidden as Veneziano grabs his hand and hauls him off the couch, all smiles.

"Okay, show me where the market is!"

He drags Germany to the door, only letting go of his hand so that they can put their coats on (and Germany wishes his heart would stop doing that) and beams, "And while we go there I can tell Germany all about what Signor Segni told me last week, he really is fun even though he always looks like he's about to fall over-"

And as Germany and Veneziano eat their way through bruschetta and straciatella and Veneziano rambles on about what Sardinia and Romano have been up to, and isn't this kind of like a date if you think abo- aah, Germany, don't choke! it finally hits Germany how much he missed this.

Thoughts? Concrit?

[Part 1] Russia-Latvia, Scarf/Biting Kink (Part 1 of 2)

[(Anonymous)]

Original: http://hetalia-kink.livejournal.com/632.html?thread=2114168#t2114168

Do everything right. Do everything right. Don't screw it up again, do everything right.
Those words floated through the Latvian's head as he diligently carried over the Russian borscht. The bowl was hot to the touch, but he held onto it anyway, for fear of dropping it if he used something to protect his hands. He wanted to prove to his superior that he was worthy, to make him happy, and to feel his praise. He would do anything to accomplish that, even if the other Baltics didn't dare do anything more than what was asked. He would achieve above and beyond. He would become Russia's favorite. He trembled a bit, and finally he was there, standing by the gray-haired man who had not looked up from his newspaper.
"Spasibo, Raivis." he said, moving his hand up in preparation to flip to the next page.
He had done it. He had successfully made the dish, and carried it over, and now Russia was going to eat it. He trembled a nervous nod as he started to lean towards the table to set the bowl down. Russia turned the page, and Latvia internally shouted out with glee at the thought of him enjoying the food he had prepared. He'd done everything right.
But he relaxed too soon, as the Russian straightened out the newspaper with a loud flap. The sudden motion scared the young blond, and he jumped back, knocking over the borscht with him.
He drew back from the feeling of the soup burning his skin, and the shaking double when he realized what he had done. "I-I'm sorry, I'll clean it up--!" he started, but he stopped.
If the food had simply spilled on the floor, it would not have been that bad. He would have scolded himself vigorously, not to mention dealt with the angry Russian. But he wouldn't have been mad for long, and he could always make more. However, seeing the colorful paste draped over Ivan's long coat, some of its tendrils tracing around his precious scarf...
He froze. And the trembling only got worse.
"R-Russia, sir, I beg y-your pardon!" His voice grew in pitch, and he panicked, picking up a napkin from the table and shakily wiping at the larger man's coat. "I-I'll clean it up, I-I'm s-so sorr-ry, I-I'll--" The Russian wasn't moving. "I-I'll w-wash your clothes!" His gloved hands remained folded around the thin paper. "Th-They'll be good-d as n-new!"
As he reached a hand up to tug at the scarf around his neck, the tall man finally moved from his position, with a jolt. His hand flew to grasp at the smaller Latvian's, and he looked up at him with a pinking face.
"Don't touch that..." he breathed, whatever anger that had been there distracted.
Latvia's oblivious fingers held on, and he pulled on it slightly. "I-I'm sorry I dirtied it, I'll g-go clean it right n--!"
The Russian winced again at the tightening fingers, but it didn't appear to be from pain. He bit his lip as the soft fabric slid along his skin.
"Raivis..." he breathed again. "Don't tug on that, unless you're prepared to take responsibility for your actions..." He meant to growl it, but it came out sounding more provocative than he had intended.
Raivis paused at the words, still not quite understanding. "I-I'm sorry I sp-spilled it, I'll t-take responsib-bility and clean th--!" He tugged again, and this time the Russian flat out moaned at the feeling of warm fabric coarsely dragging against sensitive skin, his scarf simply being touched...
With a blush, the Latvian realized, and let go. "...R-Russia... sir?" he murmured, his eyes wide.
But there was a pair of strong arms quickly around him, pulling him onto Ivan's lap in one, sweeping motion. "Da..." he panted, looking up at the now startled Latvian. The younger looked at him questioningly, shivering with anxiety, as he practically squeaked. "You will take responsibility..."

[Part 1] Russia-Latvia, Scarf/Biting Kink (Part 2 of 2)

[(Anonymous)]

With great suddenness, his lips were upon the other's. They pressed roughly against his, stealing away a kiss with impassioned force. The Latvian froze, still unsure of just what he had done. The kiss was shocking, almost terrifying, but not at all unwelcome. It rattled the blond, as his face reddened and he found himself getting into the kiss. His tense body relaxed as Ivan's lips opened, influencing him to open his as well. There was a minuscule pause before the Latvian's mouth was seized by the invasion of a surprisingly warm, lithe tongue, and he let out a noise that startled himself more than anyone. His hands moved up to cling to Russia's scarf, unsure of where to go during the moment of lust.
But Ivan pulled away, a blush brightening on his face as the scarf was once again tugged, and he moaned a lascivious call. "Raivis~" he murmured, his eyes fluttering with desire. He moved to reveal the rarely glimpsed bare skin of his neck, and panted a bit. Raivis took this as his cue, and leaned down hesitantly.
"R-Russia... sir?" he mumbled, his heartbeat rising as the gap between his lips and Ivan's neck began to close.
"Call me by my given name..." said the Russian, barely coherent.
The Latvian paused, his nerves eating at him as his the friction of his lips touched against the pale skin of Ivan's neck. "I-Ivan..." he said, unable to move further.
With a final groan, the Russian pushed the Latvian's head into the sensitive area beneath his scarf. "D-Da..." he whispered, biting his lip and shifting. Raivis kissed the supple skin on his neck, flustered at the foreign feeling of another's skin beneath his lips. The reactions he was receiving from the larger man encouraged him, every breath layered with a smaller noise, and he began to lightly suck, becoming more and more aroused himself. Russia's hand slid down his side and toyed around the back of Raivis' pants, his fingers brushing against bare skin. The young one sucked on his neck, moving his hips against Ivan's hand eagerly, until he finally slid it in and inserted a few fingers without another word. Jolting, Latvia bit down on the neck, and cried out in shock from the unexpected pain he was exposed to. Ivan cried out from the bite, and pressed his fingers further. The feeling of the teeth upon his neck sent pain and pleasure rolling down his spine, the skin, so rarely touched, tingling with excitement. It wanted to be touched, he wanted to be touched, and he wanted to touch the sensitive young one in return.
With lustful eyes, Russia finally looked at the man sitting on his lap, and Latvia returned his intoxicating gaze.
"...Are you ready to take responsibility?"

Part 4: Italy/Germany after WWII

[(Anonymous)]

Original request: http://hetalia-kink.livejournal.com/6850.html?thread=8386754#t8386754

This is the second fill of this prompt. It takes place in 1954.

Untitled 1/?

[(Anonymous)]

The harsh chime sent a jolt of adrenaline arcing through the German man’s body.
He sat up, his skin covered with a film of sweat, and took a moment to remind himself where he was.

This was not the battlefield. The chime was higher pitched, tinnier, than the whine of bombs dropping or the alerts that had ordered his soldiers to war. The covers fell off of his body, revealing scars that marked where his cities were still being rebuilt, and an enormous gash on his side, still red and painful and angry, where American and Russian soldiers had shaken hands after slicing him in two.

He wondered if Prussia bore the same mark.

No. East Germany. Prussia was gone. He had to remember that. It had been nearly ten years.

The alarm clock still chimed, and he reached over and turned it off, stiff muscles protesting the movement. His heart began to slow when the sound died.

He should buy a different alarm clock, he knew. But he didn’t see the point.

***

He took his seat at the NATO meeting between America and France. He gave a weak half-smile half-wince when the cheery American blond clapped him on the back, proclaiming loudly about how great his economy was doing and how far disarmament had come. Ludwig just listened. He wasn’t a part of NATO, and these meetings were more for Alfred than for him, a way for the American to show off how generous and powerful he was, even with former enemies. Ludwig usually didn’t attend, but today Alfred had been insistent.

“And how are you, America?” Ludwig asked. Alfred just grinned, but his blue eyes were chips of ice.

“Just hang on,” he said. Ludwig’s eyes narrowed, but before he could ask, the temperature in the room dropped, goosebumps rising across his neck and shoulders.

A door creaked, swinging open, and the USSR smiled serenely as he stepped into the room.

Ludwig’s stomach dropped, his mouth going dry. The enormous white-haired nation’s boots thudded on the floor as he strode into a seat across the table.

“Let me handle this,” Alfred hissed. Ludwig looked back to Alfred with effort, and then realized that the American had a strong hand on Ludwig’s shoulder, holding him down as he shook.

“Alright everyone,” England began, clearing his throat and shuffling his papers on the podium in front of him. “The topic today is the proposal from the Soviet Union on their bid to enter NATO in order to help keep the peace in Europe.”

Germany dropped his gaze to the wooden table in front of him, his side suddenly throbbing.

“Absolutely not!” Alfred exploded. Leave it to America to speak out of turn, Ludwig though humorlessly. “Russia went back on the agreement. He cut off how many countries from us? And he wants to join us for peace?”

“Do you want war, America?” Ivan asked from across the table.

“I want a strong alliance against those who’ve betrayed us before,” America shouted. “The countries on the west are doing great.” He pointed to Ludwig. “We haven’t even seen the countries you’ve made off with!”

Ludwig blinked back a sudden headache, fighting to lift his head, as the room exploded. Alfred screamed at the USSR about the iron curtain he had dropped across Europe, Arthur shouted for Alfred to shut up, and the Matthew grabbed Alfred before the man could launch himself across the room at the grinning USSR.

Through the din, Italy caught his eye. The small nation’s eyes were large and sad, and Ludwig looked away, the memory of those eyes at the end of the war assailing him. How long had he been staring?

[Part 8] UKUS - Assplay/fetishization (part 1)

[(Anonymous)]

Request: http://hetalia-kink.livejournal.com/11411.html?thread=22906003#t22906003

UK/US, Ass-play and/or fetishization.

Hope it's ok enough, kinda short

England loved America's ass.

Now, he of course loved America as well, and America loved him. It had started out a bit awkward but the relationship soon turned into a normal one.

Although oddly it took until they were dating for England to realize just how perfect America's ass really was. It was nice and round, big but not too big, and jiggled just a bit when slapped. He often found himself staring as America walked away, loving how it looked in those jeans America wore.

When America had first learned of how much his ass was loved by his partner he was a bit embarrassed, self-conscious that it was too big or fat. England of course had told him otherwise, using every makeout as an opportunity to grope it, squeezing both cheeks and giving the occasional slap.

This love of America's body part also led to him bottoming more often in sex, not that he minded too much. It felt nice to just lie back and let someone else take control and damn did England sure make him feel good.

America was currently with England, staying with him for a bit. They had just had dinner (luckily it wasn't too burnt this time) and America was doing the dishes, scrubbing off the plates in the sink. England had gone to the bathroom, returning with a smile as he saw his lover's backside. Round and sticking out, clothed by a pair of blue jeans.

"So whatcha wanna do tonight?" America asked, noticing that England had entered the kitchen. He figured they could pop in a movie or something, maybe a horror movie.

England didn't answer at first, instead getting up behind America and groping the man's ass, fingers squeezing into the clothed flesh. "This." He said, voice low, hot breath against America's ear. He could feel the other shiver a bit, the plate he had been washing dropped back into the sink.

America's face was beet red, always a bit embarrassed when alone with England like this. Curse that Puritan upbringing. With England still pressed against him he rinsed off his soapy hands and dried them with the towel, knowing neither of them really cared anymore if all the dishes were washed that night. "Bedroom?" He asked, turning his head to flash England a grin.

"Yes." England growled, pulling away from America and taking his hand, leading him up to the master bedroom. While he had taken that "bathroom" break he was actually preparing everything, the bed made and a few toys stashed in the middle drawer of his nightstand, the lube sitting up top.

Before they could even get on the bed England pulled America in, crashing their lips together violently, tongues exploring each others mouths and hands groping each other's flesh. America went for England's hair, gently yanking at it as he ran his fingers through those blond strands. England's hands had migrated more down south, gripping both America's ass cheeks harshly.

"Jeans...off..." England gasped, the kiss breaking finally, his hair now all disheveled. America could only grin at that despite the fierce blush on his face as he lifted up his t-shirt and tossed it off, next unbuttoning his jeans and slipping them and the boxers off in one move. Lastly his socks were kicked off and he jumped onto the bed. "You too. Get naked."

England nodded, unbuttoning his shirt and laying it across his dresser before doing the same with his trousers, the boxers and socks simply kicked off. "Get on your hands and knees." He said, licking his lips as America did so, his nice, round ass now facing England.

America knew England loved the sight, wiggling his hips a bit as he turned his head to look at the other. "Ya gonna do anything or just stare?" He asked, a smug grin on his face.

"Oh hush." England snapped, getting on the bed and giving both of America's cheeks a good grope. He loved how round and fleshy it was, giving it a good smack and watching it jiggle. "Such a nice arse." He purred, giving a few more smacks and watching the skin turn red. After a few more smacks he was already getting hard, America's yelps only encouraging him.

Re: [Part 8] UKUS - Assplay/fetishization (part 2)

[(Anonymous)]

America's ass hurt a bit by now, England not holding back as he gave both cheeks a good spanking. He would be lying though if he were to say he didn't enjoy it, his own cock getting hard as well.

"Let's see what all we can fit up here." England chuckled, the lube uncapped and spread over his fingers before he gently brushed two of them against America's hole, earning a quiet whimper from his lover. Without warning England shoved in two of his slick fingers, immediately spreading them apart.

America's back arched as he let out a low groan, muscles clenching down hard against the intrusion. "Ah..." he gasped, breathing out heavily as he relaxed around them, not taking too long considering this had been done several times before.

England patiently waited for America to relax, wanting the other to enjoy it as well after all. Once he was sure America was relaxed he began to thrust his fingers quickly, curved a bit to strike his lover's sweet spot. It had taken a bit to learn where it was in the past but England was now able to find it rather easily, teasing that spot.

"Ahn...ah..." America moaned, rolling his hips at the pleasure. England always knew where to poke and prod inside him, turning him into goo almost instantly. It wasn't long until a third finger was added, England spreading them all out and thrusting fast.

Suddenly though he stopped, pulling out his fingers, earning him a displeased whimper from America. "Oh hush." He snapped, slapping the other's ass. "Be patient." He leaned over and opened up the drawer on his nightstand, reaching around before finding the vibator and taking it out.

America had his head turned to see what England was getting, a soft moan escaping his lips as he saw the purple toy in England's hands, the other slicking it up with lubricant.

"Excited?" England asked, pressing the head of the vibrator against America's entrance and pushing it in, not stopping until it was in all the way. Not even waiting for America to adjust he turned the dial all the way up, the toy now buzzing loudly in America's ass.

"Ahn..nng oh god..." America groaned, hands fisted in the bed sheets as he bit his bottom lip. As the toy started to slip out of his ass England pushed it back in, gently thrusting the buzzing toy. America desperately wanted to touch his cock but held out, waiting until he would get properly fucked.

England soon grew tired of using the vibrator, pulling it out, turning it off, and tossing it aside on the bed. He knew America was rather desperate by now, hell he was too, but he wanted to do one more thing before he actually fucked America.

The lube was uncapped again, more poured onto England's right hand. "I wonder if you can fit an entire fist." He said to himself, a shiver going through America's body at that. They've done fisting before sure but that didn't mean it wouldn't hurt a bit.

England simply grinned, shoving two fingers inside of America before quickly adding a third, spreading them apart. There wasn't much resistance this time considering a vibrator was just in there and America found himself moaning out loudly as a fourth finger was added. It hurt a bit but he quickly calmed himself, enjoying the feeling of being stretched.

"Doing good." England cooed, using his free hand to gently rub America's reddened ass, thrusting his fingers and spreading them out. His patience was wearing thin though as his cock ached in need and he added his thumb, earning a low groan from his lover. "Sshh...relax." he said, slowly pushing his hand in, past the widest part until he was in to his wrist.

Oh it was painful at first, America clenching up as England's hand was forced in, stretching him out painfully far. Luckily England wasn't moving much, simply letting America enjoy the feeling was being stretched so far. "Ahn...oh fuck, fuck me." He groaned, tired of waiting as England's knuckles brushed up against his prostate.

As much as England would have loved to keep teasing America he was rather needy as well. Giving a slap with his free hand he slowly started to pull his other hand out, watching as America's hole stretched out around him, left gaping once he was all the way out.

Part 12 - Turkey/Australia. "So, I need some pointers..." (1/5?)

[(Anonymous)]

Original request here: http://hetalia-kink.livejournal.com/15068.html?thread=43242972#t43242972

Australia is in a relationship. For their 1st anniversary, his lover wants to act out his/her S&M fantasies, with Australia playing the role of the masochist.

However, there's a problem: Australia has been stung, poisoned, and otherwise hurt by all the critters on him that he has become desensitized to pain. He has somehow managed to go a year without telling this to his partner.

So, in order to not disappoint his beloved, Australia gets acting lessons from another nation. Whether this succeeds or not depends on the author.

Bonus: Australia's sweetheart isn't Russia.

**

"You know, it'll be a year next week," Turkey said idly, breathing out a ribbon of smoke.

"Yeah?" Australia asked, wrinkling his nose at the smell. "You want to do anything? We could go out to the coast, I'd show you how to wrestle crocs."

"I was thinking something more ... special," Turkey said, his voice dropping into that low purr that never failed to make Australia take notice.

"Yeah?" Australia said, trying to conceal the way his breathing had sped up. "Like what?"

Suddenly Turkey was leaning over him, pressing his shoulders down into the cushions of the sofa, laying his whole weight on Australia's body. "I was thinkin' I could tie you up," he growled into Australia's ear, his tongue barely flicking the lobe. "Beat you." His body was heavy and Australia arched up eagerly into the warm weight as Turkey's breath ghosted over his neck. "Make you scream." A nip to the jaw, and Australia could fell the callouses on Turkey's thumb where it rubbed his bare collarbone -- if his lover didn't do something he'd get his screaming free of charge. Turkey leaned over and purred into Australia's ear, so that the prone nation could feel the rumble of the words through his jaw. "Show you just how good pain can feel."

Um.

Oh, bugger.

*

There was a minor problem with ... well ... everything about Australia.

Start with being settled by convicts. Convicts are not, as a rule, people who are terribly frightened by pain, especially not English convicts of the late 1700s. (Except those who'd been convicted of stealing lace at eight years old. Old England's laws had been a bit funny around then.) At any rate, Australia's founding population had been tough (apart from the eight-year-olds), practical (especially the prostitutes), and used to discomfort if not to the idea of working for a living (except for the prostitutes).

So pain had never been a big thing for him. Even when he was a toddling colony a bare few decades old, stepping on a thorn as long as his thumbnail had never garnered anything more than an "ouch".

And then, there was the wildlife.

Cone shells. Taipans. The taipans' lovely less-venomous land-dwelling relatives. Sea snakes. Esturine crocodiles. Too many damn poisonous spiders and other invertebrates to count. And not to forget the Platypus, which might look fluffy, but had poison spurs that would make you wish you were dead.

Oh, and the jellyfish. If Irukandji Syndrome proved one thing, it was that Mother Nature was a spiteful bitch. What was the point of it?

By the time deportation ended, Australia had been bitten, stung, scratched, and generally mauled by his wildlife so often that it took a bullet ant sting to even make him swear. When the First World War rolled around, he looked fifteen and had a pain tolerance that barely registered napalm. By the Second, jellyfish, snakes, and monotremes had completely desensitized him.

He could feel everything else (thank goodness). But pain was a no-show. Not that the topic ever came up; with no wars to blast him open, decent health and safety standards, and both of them making an effort to keep the venomous fauna out of the house, Turkey had never seen his reaction to pain.

Which led to his current dilemma.

"So, I need some pointers..." (2/5?)

[(Anonymous)]

Australia liked sleeping with Turkey. (See: Last night's buggering.) He liked Turkey, full stop. And Turkey's idea did sound like fun, not to mention the way his lover had grinned when he said yes, looking like the cat that got the canary.

Turkey would probably have grinned a little less if he'd known that Australia wouldn't feel half of what he was going to do to him.

Australia was not a nation given to insecurity. If he had explained to Turkey, his lover would have been disappointed, but fine with it, and they could have come up with something else (since the mood would have been thoroughly dead by then, something Australia hadn't been too keen on with Turkey's thigh where it was). But he did like the idea. It sounded like fun. So, all he had to do was play along, acting like he was in pain.

Piece of cake. Except that Australia's acting skills, excellent when it came to stealing cakes and looking innocent, were weak in the area of the bedroom.

And he had seven days before Turkey was going to tie him up and beat the stuffing out of him.

Australia sighed, swung his legs off the bed, and rummaged for the phone book. This was going to take some assistence.

*

"Let me get this straight," New Zealand said flatly. "You want me to tell you how normal people react to being flogged. Because you can't feel pain. Because every animal in your house hates you."

"Pretty much, yeah," Australia said offhandedly.

"And you couldn't just tell him this?"

"Well, I could, but that'd mean we don't get to try it." Australia leaned both hands on the counter. "Come on, 'Zea!"

New Zealand's eyebrow started twitching. "No. Ask somebody else."

*

"Ah," Canada said, blinking over his coffee mug. "Um. Er..." He saw Australia's fingers start wandering, and tried changing tactics. "Er ... why me?"

"Well, I asked 'Zea first," Australia said, his hand wandering over the desk. "Because, you know ... and besides, with all those films, she's gotta be pretty good at acting, right?" He looked embarrased. "She said no. But you're Commonwealth too, right? It's easier than asking strangers ... and anyway, you were settled by France, I figured you've got to have picked something up there."

"Um." Canada tried very hard not to think of France in conjunction with Australia and Turkey and ... what Australia had asked him for assistance with. No! Bad images! Little brother! Bad pictures!

"I think you'd better ask someone outside the family," he managed, and despite Australia's visible disappointment, he finally agreed.

*

France's face lit up. "But of course!" he crooned. "I am always willing to assist in matters of the bedroom. And of love, of course."

His hand slid up Australia's arm. "Now, the first thing is to --"

"On second thought, I'll ask someone else," Australia said, backing towards the door.

*

China was a washout. An angry washout.

Australia thought briefly about asking Japan. Then he shuddered.

No, he thought firmly. Definitely no.

*

India started out looking quite promising.

"Part of the problem," he said, sitting cross-legged, facing Australia over cups of tea, "is that you will need to respond appropriately. If you flinch and swear at every stroke, no matter the strength, it will seem false. And you must be consistent in your response to pain."

"I am consistent," Australia said, glowering moodily into his tea. "I don't do anything."

Part 17: Damaged But Not Gone, Chapter 1 a. ( Prussia/Estonia)

[(Anonymous)]

Estonia is fed up with being taken for granted.
Original request: http://hetalia-kink.livejournal.com/19013.html?thread=70078789


“ Where to ?“ the taxi driver asked as Eduard sat in and closed his eyes as he silently willed the huge headache he was currently suffering from to fade away.

“ Airport please“ he said softly without moving or opening his eyes.

“ Which one?“ the american asked and Eduard sighed.

“ I don't care. The nearest. I just need to get away from here, I need to get home.“ he whined like a litte child and the taxi driver chuckled softly.

“ Roger that“ he said and with that he pulled out of the parking lot in front of the hotel Eduard had been staying at.

“ So, why in such hurry to get away?“ taxi driver asked and Eduard felt annoyed that from all the taxi drivers in America he had to get the chatty one. He really wasn't in a mood to have any kind of conversation but he also didn't want to be impolite or rude. It wasn't the taxi driver's fault that his head was about to explode. If anyone was to blame then that would be Alfred and his brother Matthew. Curse those two for convincing him join them in a rock concert which lasted for four hours. He had to admit that it was a fun night but it wasn't so fun to wake up with the biggest hangover he had ever experienced.

“ I'm not. I've been here for two weeks. It's just time to go home“ he said as he opened his eyes and the taxi driver hummed in understanding.

“ Where is your home? If you don't mind me asking ...“ he asked and Eduard closed his eyes again.

“ Estonia, Tallinn. I bet you don't even know where it is.“ he said and the taxi driver smiled.

“I've actually been there. I have some friends in Finland and of course they made their business to take me to Estonia as well.“ he said and Eduard couldn't deny he was surprised by that, he opened his eyes once again and sat a bit straighter in his seat.

“ And what did you think ? Did you like what you saw ?“ he asked and the taxi driver smiled again.
“ It's very nice there. I'm actually planning to go there again next summer.“ he said and Eduard raised his eyebrow.

“Really ?!“ he asked and the taxi driver hummed.

“ Only with my wife and kids this time, they had to stay behind last time“ he said and then there was a short silence.

“ Do you have someone waiting you at home?“ the taxi driver asked and Eduard smiled softly.

“ Yeah, I do, my boyfriend“ he said and there was a short silence again.

“ Oh ... you are one of those ...“ the taxi driver suddenly said his tone of changing from extremly friendly to less friendly. Estonia felt a shiver run up his spine and he wondered if he made an awful mistake by admitting his sexuality to a complete stranger. Suddenly he felt nervous and the only thing that calmed him down was the fact that he'd be spending the night in Gilbert's arms again.

“ Do ... do you have a problem with that?“ he asked after he managed to calm himself down enough to speak. After that question escaped from his mouth he wasn't sure why he had voiced that. Maybe he just needed to get the assurance that he had not fallen into hands of a homophobic serial killer or something. To his surprise the taxi driver laughed.

“ Not really, not as long as you won't try to convert me“ he said. Inspite the fact that Eduard disapproved the belief that a gay man is able to convert a straight one, he still felt relieved and much calmer to know that the man wasn't a threat. He was so relieved even that he let out a small chuckle of his own.

“ Believe me, sir. I wouldn't even think about doing something like that“ he said and the taxi driver nodded.

“ Good“ he said and they drove the next three or four minutes in silence until they arrived their destination and the driver named his price. After Eduard payed him he walked into the airport, his headache even bigger than it was before. He slowly walked to the administrator desk with the intention to buy ticket home. He had to wait in line about twenty minutes and then faced the smiling handsome brunette.

Re: Part 17: Damaged But Not Gone, Chapter 1 a. ( Prussia/Estonia)

[(Anonymous)]

“ Good morning,sir. How can I help you?“ he asked with smooth voice and Eduard smiled inspite of himself.

“ Good morning. I would like to buy a one-way ticket for the next flight to Tallinn please. “ he said and the man who's name tag said Brian typed the info into his computer and then looked at him.

“ I'm sorry, sir but the next flight seems to be canceled due a technical problem. And there are no more flights until 4 pm. Are you alright with that? “ he said and Eduard sighed, it meant almost six hours waiting.

“ I guess I have to be“ he said not sounding too happy. Brian typed something again.

“Here you go, sir. Have a pleasant flight“ he said and Eduard smiled a little.

“ Thanks.“ he said and with that he walked to the seats. He sat down and wondered what he was going to do while waiting. He decided to call Gilbert and let him know that he will arrive later than he thought. Unfortunatelly he was sent straight to voice mail and he was forced to leave a message. After he had done so he felt as if he could fall asleep any minute, he felt his eyelids start to shut but soon enough he heard someone calling his name. When he looked up he was more than just a little bit surprised.

“ Elizaveta ? Roderich ? What are you guys doing here ?“ he asked as he and his childhood friend hugged him.

“ I have a piano concert here today, we just arrived“ Roderich said.

“ Really ?“ Eduard asked.

“ Yeah, it's in the city hall. Want to come?“ Elizaveta asked and Eduard sighed.
“ I would love to but I already bought a ticket back home. Besides I'm not feeling very well“ he said and he could see that Elizaveta was about to ask something but Roderich cut her off.

“ That's too bad. But don't worry, there are plenty of concerts coming up so ...“ he said and Eduard smiled.

“ Gilbert and I won't miss the next one“ he promised.

“I'm happy to hear you're doing so well.“ he added and Roderich smiled back at him.

“ Thank you“ he said.

“ Listen, we were about to take a taxi and go to hotel to rest a bit but we aren't really in a hurry. Do you have time to go somewhere for a cafe ?“ Elizaveta asked and Eduard's smile widened.

“Sure, my flight doesn't depart until 4 pm“ he said feeling happy that he didn't have to wait alone. Roderich and his girlfriend seemed just as happy and they left the airport together. They had a nice meal, nice talk in nearby restaurant and at 3:30 pm Eduard returned back to the airport and the lovebirds finally went to their hotel. As Eduard took his seat on the plane he was happy to realize that his headache was almost gone. He fished his phone from the pocket again to check his voice mail, he felt a bit disappointed when he found out that noone had left him a message. He didn't let it bother himself too much though and when the stewardess walked by he asked for a pillow and when he got one he fell asleep as soon as he closed his eyes.

Eduard still couldn't believe that he had slept through the whole flight. He was feeling better than before but he was also kind of worried because he hadn't heard anything about Gilbert. When he arrived in front of his house in the taxi he noticed that the light on the porche was on. Well ... I guess someone's still waiting for me. he thought to himself and then after paying the cab driver he walked to the front door. He found his keys from his pocket and opened the door.

As soon as he had turned on the light and looked around the livingroom he had the urge to turn around and go back where he had come from. Before he went to New York he made sure the house was clean and in order so Gilbert would feel comfortable while living in there without him. Seeing dirty laundry and empty bottles of beer laying absolutely everywhere, he realized that he really shouldn't have bothered. When he walked to the kitchen he saw nothing but piles of unwashed dishes and some spoiled food on the table, even the fridge was full of stuff that should have been thrown out days ago. Opening the window to let the fresh air replace the foul smell around him, he went back to livingroom and opened a window in there as well.

[Part 22] Prucan - Say My Name.

[(Anonymous)]

Original request: http://hetalia-kink.livejournal.com/21382.html?thread=89748614#t89748614

Calling each other by their human names, is something the Nations consider to be very personal.

I want something where Nation A is in a relationship with Nation B, and trying to convince B to let them call each other by their real names. Nation B doesn't want to because they feel embarrassed about it since its such a personal thing.

BONUS: It leads to sex.

BONUS: Nation B finally decides to call Nation A by their human name while they are having sex.

Here is my crappy rendition of this in PruCan form, hope you likie~

Say My Name [Part 1]

[(Anonymous)]

“Come on!~ Please?” Prussia said as he grabbed Canada around the middle, burying his head into the Canadian’s small and somewhat girly frame. It was spectacularly rare for the Prussian to ask for anything, material or otherwise, but this time it was special for two reasons.

I) He was talking to his lover, the awesomely quiet, shy, secretly sexy Canada, who he had been with for a little over a year now.
2) He was asking, while it was the first thing normal humans would do, something that the nations themselves found as personal as two people asking to live together.

He was asking for Canada to call him by his true name.

“N-no Prussia…” the Canadian said, hiding his flushed face behind his polar bear, Kuma-something.
“Why not? We’ve been going out for a year now and we’ve done it plenty enough times that you,” Prussia pointed at Canada accusingly “can’t live without the awesome me, so why won’t you call me by my name?”

There was a pause and then a patient voice, as it was stating a fact
“But your name is the most personal thing to you… I was told the only people I was told to give it to are people in my family… and that I love more than anything in the world, even more than maple syrup…”

Prussia growled slightly, getting up from hugging his partner and standing up, looking down at him with an annoyed look.
“What kind of horse-crap has that French bastard been shovelling into you!? It’s just a name, my awesome name but just a name nonetheless, it’s not like the world will tip up on its head if you call me by name!” he sighed then looked slightly sad, which was almost as rare as him asking politely for something.

The Canadian blushed even more response and continued to tighten his death grip on his polar bear, who growled slightly at the pressure, to which Canada apologized quietly and loosened his grip enough for the bear to struggle away and walk off, leaving Canada undefended.

Canada tried to curl into a ball then, leaning against the back of the sofa he had been sitting on.
“But… it’s embarrassing… I mean… you love me enough to tell me your name and I…”

Prussia’s expression softened, sometimes his awesome mind did forget that his lover just happened to be one of the shyest countries in the world, despite the fact he was so awesome in and out of bed that Prussia was glad no-one had taken him before he had a year or so ago when they had met after a party, too drunk to know by the time they had completed the third one-night stand that they were in love with each other.

He smiled again and walked forward, bundling the blushy ball of awesomeness in his hands, stroking his blond hair (avoiding the curl he now referred to as ’Canada’s Sexy Switch’) whispering soothingly in his ear.
“It’s not, I love you Canada and don’t you ever question that. It would be the most awesome ever if you call me by my name.”
“Prussia…” Canada whimpered, still unsure.

[Part 16] Russia/Jealous!Possessive!America

[(Anonymous)]

Request & chapters 1-7 (1st fill): http://hetalia-kink.livejournal.com/18439.html?thread=60805127

Chapters 8-28: http://hetalia-kink.livejournal.com/18772.html?thread=73919572

Kind-of-prequel: http://hetalia-kink.livejournal.com/17465.html?thread=52130361#t52130361

Holding Out For A Hero (part 29a)

[(Anonymous)]

America opened the double doors with flare, feeling his purpose spread through his body like fire. He was going to do this. And he was so going to kick ass while doing this. He'd thought about all of it last night.

The others on the opposite side of the door, people loitering outside of the conference room looked up at him, obviously awed by his awesomeness. Unfortunately though, Russia wasn't there among them. He must already be inside. It was only a few minutes before the meeting, anyway.

America smirked and strode towards the conference room doors. This was the day. No more delaying. No more excus--

He saw Russia talking to China from behind the tinted windows leading to the hallway outside.

He gnashed his teeth. Did that whore think that he can have Russia all to himself? China's gonna get a fucking--

He was immediately tackled to the floor by a wall of muscle, his glasses flying off his face and skittering across the floor. He was about to fight off whatever was pinning him to the floor but he found that his arms were held behind his back.

"Amerika, calm yourself," he heard Germany's ragged voice from above him.

"Fuck, get off--"

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" he heard England's angry voice amidst the chaos that suddenly erupted in the room.

"Brazilien, Indien!" Germany barked, still keeping America pinned on the floor.

America was seeing getting angrier by the second. "Get the fuck off me man," he growled. "You wouldn't like me when I'm angry."

"I'm sorry, Amerika," he heard India's voice above him too as he felt the weight on his back increase.

"This is for everybody's safety," Germany grunted, clearly having a very difficult time pinning him down.

Geez, throw a fucking armored car once and they're all paranoid.

"Allemagne! What are you doing?" he heard France scolding the man above him.

"Stay out of the way, Frankreich," Germany grunted. "Brazilien, get China and Rusland out."

Oh, hell no. That did it. America threw them off easily with newfound strength.

He looked around for Russia, but it was hard with his glasses missing. "Where the fuck are my glasses?"

"Oi, Amerika," somebody shouted. "Catch."

America held out his hand and caught his glasses without being able to see. As soon as he wore it he saw the guy with the white hair giving him a thumb's up. He gave a thumb's up back, and then looked at his path towards the conference room door. The path was immediately cleared, like Noah seperating the fucking sea.

He strode, all confidence and arrogance. Nothing was gonna stop him. He was gonna do this and he was gonna do this right. As he walked towards the door, he heard the other nations behind him clambering to get a better view of the showdown.

There's gonna be a showdown, all right. There's gonna be one heck of a showdown.

He wrenched the door open and stepped out, seeing Russia and China looking up at him, both with equally surprised and questioning looks.

China broke the silence first. "Ah! Meiguo! Good morning!"

America huffed and strode purposefully towards Russia. The man in question just continued to look at him, evidently confused.

"Eh...Meiguo?"

America turned to China, grabbed the sides of his head, and headbutted him--not as hard as he would've done a few weeks ago, but just hard enough to knock the smaller man out.

"Ame--"

Part 23-America x Monaco - Dating W/O realizing he's a Superpower

[(Anonymous)]

YAY! Almost done :D I want this all out before Christmas xoxo

slight filler-

10.

Francis curled up his legs, bringing them closer to his chest as he looked out through the large bay window of his townhouse. He had a cup of steamed milk in his hand, and his silky blonde hair was still a tad damp from his shower. It wasn’t common for snow to flutter down onto Paris’s streets precisely on Christmas, but the French nation could feel cold, tension filled air radiating. It was Christmas morning, and his baby sister was pissed.

After staring at the empty roads for another minute or two, the personification of France sipped his milk and climbed down. Emilie had been completely silent to her big brother ever since yesterday when he had ordered the car to drive them back to his home. Arthur had been hesitant, but obligingly went to hunt down his own messy sibling. The two lovers agreed to meet at Francis’s later for dinner, assuming America had already called Secret Servicemen to fly him back (or at least send over a jet for the nation to fly back alone).

Now, Francis knew that his sister could be quite stubborn, and they had gotten in tiffs quite a bit in the past. This should have been nothing compared to government disagreements and representation, but then again, the two siblings were French, and amour meant the world to them. Francis sucked in a breath and pulled a neatly wrapped box from under the Bonnefoy tree and trudged back upstairs to attempt at talking with his sister.



Arthur gave his younger brother a sarcastic grin as the two English-speaking nations collapsed on the hotel room’s couch, the older of two dropped two oily bags of McDonalds on the coffee table. Their Christmas hadn’t exactly been normal in a while, and given the circumstances, it seemed they never would be. The two brothers still loved each other as much as family could, but it was rare they had a regular Christmas morning. Today, Alfred had coerced Arthur to help him make a pseudo tree out of green licorice (from room service) and sent the poor Englishman for 26 cheeseburgers. Now, Alfred wore cheesy brown reindeer antlers, flicking the bells every once in a while as Arthur opened up the McDonald’s bag and flip through DVD choices including Jane Eyre, Pride & Prejudice and Twilight.

“Choose Twilight- it’s cold and shit, closest to Christmas.”

Arthur slammed the DVDs on top of the food. “BLOODY HELL, Boy! You know I’m here to talk to you about M-“

“MA-MA-MA! It’s Christmas. Time for family and love. Shuddap!”

“I should be with my love, goddamit! Instead, I’m here trying to babysit you before your men arrive to get you home safely!”

“Artie, I’m not 6.”

“Your stubbornness begs to differ.”

Alfred stopped flicking his bells. He grabbed a cheeseburger and began to unwrap the paper. “Well, what do you want me to say?”

“Anything. Anything that will make you stop acting like everything’s fine.”

The American raised an eyebrow.

“Christ, boy, Francis is the nation of love. He knows how you feel. Even
I know how you feel.”

In between his chewing, Arthur thought he heard a ‘doesn’t matter’ somewhere.

“Alfred.”

Prompt :S

[(Anonymous)]

My bad-

prompt + earlier fills : http://hetalia-kink.livejournal.com/22015.html?thread=92914943#t92914943

Part 22, Micronation Orgy - An Open Window And A Welcome Bed

[(Anonymous)]

Request: http://hetalia-kink.livejournal.com/21382.html?thread=87844998#t87844998

***

The sun's gone down. Sealand's not sure when that happened, but when he opens his eyes the room is dim with the grey light of twilight filtering in through the open window.

There's an elbow in his back, which could belong to anyone. They're all packed up together on Molossia's too-small bed, which is fine for two people or even three, but they had to cram up tight to fit eight of them on it. Even now, he's plastered up against Kugelmugel's back so close that he's breathing in hair, and Ladonia is draped over their legs with his head on Kugel's hip; earlier, when they were moving, it was even trickier. He thinks all of them fell off at least once. But it had been worth it.

He drowsily shifts a little on the bed, feeling relaxed and drifty, like after a really long run. He's even got bruises on his legs and shoulder like he'd get from playing. Except this feels so much better than if he'd just been running, and there's an ache when he shifts that he'd never felt in his life until after Niko-Niko pressed into him. It's a good ache. Sticky, though.

The springs shudder and bounce under him at the same time as Wy lets out a high keen from the other side of the bed. There's a soft, sated laugh from higher up in the dusk-light, and a grumble and a thud as someone slips off the end of the bed again.

Seborga's voice is low, and Sealand can hear the smile in it. "Told you so."

"Tastes sour," Molossia complains. He's right, but Sealand thinks it was worth it for the look on Wy's face earlier, when Seborga helped show him what to do with his tongue. He can't see the uncoordinated kick he knows Wy will throw, but he hears it connect and Molossia grumbles as he climbs back onto the bed, making the springs squeak and sink under his weight.

"Can you get the blanket?" Hutt River mumbles from behind him. The vibrations from his voice rumble through Sealand's shoulder and back, which means it's probably his elbow digging into Sealand's ribs, but Sealand can't bring himself to mind. Hutt River's big and warm, and just as sticky as the rest of them.

"Too hot," Niko-Niko says sleepily. He sounds like he's lying on Hutt River, which makes sense because he was sitting on him earlier, and they both kind of collapsed afterwards.

He's right, anyway. The evening breeze that drifts in through the open window isn't that cold, and the eight of them are putting off enough body heat that Sealand almost thinks he's sleeping next to a furnace. Molossia must agree, because he doesn't go to pull the blanket up, he just wriggles around trying to find somewhere comfortable on all the knees and ankles, sending little bounces through the bed.

The wriggling wakes Ladonia up. Or maybe he just randomly decides to start nosing up their bodies, petting clumsily at Kugelmugel's ribs. It doesn't work. Kugelmugel probably couldn't be woken up by a nuclear bomb right now.

Sealand pokes Ladonia's shoulder with wobbly fingers. "Stop that," he whispers.

"Kiss," Ladonia whines in Swedish, so Sealand turns onto his side a bit and kisses him lazily. There's a lingering taste in Ladonia's mouth from when he used it on Sealand earlier, and Sealand shivers at the thought because Ladonia is his rival but he was also sandwiched between Kugelmugel and Molossia at the time, and it was really -- it was good to watch. He licks a little more agressively into Ladonia's mouth. Kugelmugel doesn't stir. It's a bit hard to hear him breathing.

He isn't surprised. Sealand could only manage a couple of times, like all of the other boys, but Wy could come again and again, if they were careful how they touched her, and Kugelmugel's a boy and a girl, somehow. He could come like Sealand, once or twice, and then like Wy, over and over, and then they both happened at the same time and it sort of knocked him out.

Ladonia stops kissing him with a yawn and curls up on their legs to doze off. Sealand snuggles into Kugelmugel and tries to get his free arm over Hutt River's shoulder. His fingers meet Seborga's wrist coming the other way, and Seborga's fingers curl lightly around his thumb.

Eight heartbeats beating together, they drift off to sleep in the gathering night.

[Part 12] Age of Discoveries Fivesome (PortSpainFrUKNed)

[(Anonymous)]

Original request: http://hetalia-kink.livejournal.com/15068.html?thread=40872156#t40872156

Age of Discovery had too much UST
To solve this, the lot of them should get together and have a whole lot of sex to release frustrations.

Probably going to need copious amounts of rum to make it easier though.

Essentially that's England, France, Spain, Netherlands and Portugal all having glorious sex. Or failsex. Or angrysex. Up to anon.

Sugar, Coffee, Rum, Hare and Sun {part 1/?}

[(Anonymous)]

This story is set at the start of the XVIII Century (1700's). The Age of Discovery is said to end in the XVII Century, but I wanted to place this in a timeline after the Iberian Union ended, after Dutch independence, after the colonization of Suriname by the Dutch and after Haiti was given to France. I hope you do not mind the human names given to Netherlands and Portugal (who is a male in this). If there are historical inaccuracies and not enough UST or grudges, I would like to apologize beforehand.
Contains mentions of non-canon Hetalia countries; that is, the colonies, and of course, Portugal.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It is rare that the five are able to meet; in an era of discoveries where well-equipped ships are able to sail them through a world that is bigger than they ever could imagine, months and months of travel finding them scattered across land and sea miles away from each other, only the finest of swirls in Time and Fate's eternal dance can pull the 'brothers' into the same location.

A most joyous thing, when it does happen.

The sea-braving nations have but two of their own meeting areas in the vast expanse of the world: the first was a tranquil (pirate-y) hideout on east African land some dozens of kilometers south of the Red Sea. There each could choose to wait, see if another nation appeared, and if that did not happen (their patience could well last a few days when they worried less) they would sail away, off to untameable lands of minerals and spices and cultures of all kinds. If some other nation did appear, they would share displays of affection and inform of newly unraveled secrets or extensions to the known maps of the time.

The second one, more recent, was a comfortable little habitation fashioned on the inside of a stranded, abandoned ship, in a shady part of the southeastern coast of the Isla Hispaniola.

And today was the day Time and Fate decided to spice up their dance.

Sun breathing its last lights upon the Earth before night pushed it away, Spain held his own light of hope inside of him, his ship (proudly lacking tripulation) tilting and gliding towards the well-hidden Habitoship (the hideouts never did get official names). A jolt of glee caused his lips to tilt upward when he saw other ships- holding the proud English, French and Portuguese flags. Antonio didn't, couldn't wait; tilting his own ship towards the rocky, tall coast, and when it slowly collided with the rocks, he hurriedly rose the Spanish flag up the mast, lowered the sails, and threw the anchor a bit too violently down the sea.

Unminding, Spain leapt onto the steep rock formation, hastily maneuvering his way along the coastside before he jumps all too excitedly onto the sand, running inside the land ship.

He doesn't pity anybody's ears. Including his own. "HOLA HERMANOOOOS!!"

Antonio's voice was more than a beautiful melody to Portugal's ears, a smile instinctively appearing on his lips at the familiar Spanish. He's the one to step forward and take the other into a spinning embrace, effectively braking his running. While Spain hugged back, France ran down the stairs to greet him, three steps at a time. He wraps his arms around Antonio's waist and lifts him off the floor, rubbing cheek against his stomach.

England was much less enthusiastic, but as he walked down the steps, the cute encounter in front of him caused his heart to feel bubbly with contentment.

Has it been so long that they did not even notice?

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
(Notes and translations: I'm writing them on a premise that they loved each other already beforehand, but if OP sees this and wants it changed, they can say so.

Isla Hispaniola - The island where Haiti and Dominican Republic are placed
Hola hermanos!! - Hello brothers!!

I would also like to thank my twin for writing out Portugal's reaction to Spain's arrival~)

[Part 24] Denmark, Norway - attempted suicide

[(Anonymous)]

Original request: http://hetalia-kink.livejournal.com/22015.html?thread=92156159#t92156159

<sub>Anon has seen a lot of fics where Denmark successfully commits suicide and that shocks a lot of people. Along those lines I'd love to see a fic where he tries and is stopped or found after he kills himself but before he 'wakes back up' by one or all of the Nordics. I would the story to focus on them rebuilding their relationship (and maybe making it into something more). Human names are okay.

Bonus one: It isn't the first time Denmark's tried to kill himself.
Bonus two: Cuddling</sub>

Ends and Beginnings, 1/2

[(Anonymous)]

Denmark stands on the precipice, staring out at the frozen night.

This is it. He’s tried, and he’s failed, and this is all that’s left. There’s no point in continuing. There’s nothing to salvage. He’s lost two of them and the third… the third should be happy, anyway. It’s not forever, but it will be long enough.

He looks down into the churning sea, and smiles. He’s not the type to hesitate. With the wind tugging at his hair, and the stars sparkling overhead, he jumps.

It’s cold.

Numbness quickly overtakes him as the icy water does its work. He doesn’t have to struggle, doesn’t have to fight it. His heavy clothes quickly pull him down, and he doesn’t bother resisting. There’s cold and pain and then - nothingness.

It’s the end.

-----

He wakes to a chill wind whipping his face and jagged stones digging into his back - not what he’d expected. Not the frigid blackness of the ocean and half a dozen drowning deaths, before he made it back to his own lands. Someone’s pulled him out.

Norway, he realizes, squinting at the shape above him. Norway, who’s definitely not happy. Before he has a chance to gather his thoughts a sharp slap stings across his face.

He’d gasp, if his lungs were working. Christ Almighty, why did it have to be Norway?

“You’re an idiot,” Norway says, shoving him over onto his side.

Denmark only coughs, sputtering seawater. It tastes worse coming back up than it did going down, and as brain and body reunite it burns, searing his throat and chest and stomach together in some kind of hideous fiery harmony.

He hates this part.

Once he’s heaved up what feels like half his guts, Norway roughly grabs him by the shoulders of his sodden cloak and begins to drag him up the beach. Denmark tries to help him, tries to walk, but his legs are numb and unresponsive. Not back together, yet. Norway stops to catch his breath, and fixes Denmark with a scowl. “And I hate you.”

What a surprise.

Before Denmark can respond Norway grabs his cloak again and yanks. In a silence occasionally punctuated by breathless cursing, he drags him the rest of the way up the beach, and over the threshold of a little house that Denmark hadn’t known was there.

Denmark hadn’t planned on landing on his shores.

Unceremoniously, Norway drops him, and he lies there on the floor, soaked through to the skin and covered with dirt, unable to do so much as shiver. From the corner of his eye he can see Norway piling more wood on the fire.

He tries to move, to sit up, and finds he can’t. Not yet. His mind has come back to life, but his body hasn’t yet followed suit. It takes time, and if he’s lucky everything will work right when it’s over. He knows this from experience.

Norway doesn’t need to know that.

Norway crouches over him, still scowling, and unfastens his filthy cloak. “What the hell were you thinking?”

Denmark stares weakly up at him, unable to respond, and after a moment more of staring Norway sighs, and begins to work on Denmark’s sodden clothes. His doublet and shirt are harshly stripped away, as Norway goes on, “No, never mind that, you weren’t. What, when the union dissolved it took your brain along with it? You couldn’t stand him, anyway! You should be happy!”

Is he that pathetic, that he ought to be happy to fail?

Does Norway see him that way?

None-too-gently, Norway picks him up under the arms and sits him up, and Denmark hardly feels it. “Can you move your legs at all?”

They’re still half-numb, and as Denmark looks down at them they start to shake. He grits his teeth, and wills them to move, trying to force the reconnection. He won’t make Norway try to carry him.

He shouldn’t have let it come to this.

Part 17 - US/UK: US is a spy, UK is not

[(Anonymous)]

Original request: http://hetalia-kink.livejournal.com/19013.html?thread=67742021#t67742021

So America is a spy who eventually comes to date and fall in love with England, who isn't one, and America desperately tries to keep his lover from finding out about his real occupation. So I kinda want to see how America keeps England from finding out, while doing his job and kicking some ass. It could be simple things, like explaining why America leaves without warning sometimes, a wound or whatever. Up to author!anon if you want to have Arthur find out eventually and what his reaction will be, but I want a happy ending.

Bonus:
1. Oh, smut.
2. Alfred has to seduce someone and he's really concerned Arthur shouldn't find out.
3. Read only if you're filling, so as not so spoil it (highlight to see): Arthur is also a deep, deep cover spy, the best of the best.

Thanks!

Something's Fishy [1/?]

[(Anonymous)]

Not anon from before, but I decided to take a shot at this prompt. Enjoy~

“Artieeeee!” Alfred barreled in through the front door, forgetting to lock it as usual. It wasn’t like they really needed to, seeing as Alfred could give a damn mean ass-whopping to any robber that dared to try and steal from him. He bounded up the stairs excitedly, stumbling a few times when he missed a step, and burst into Arthur’s study, almost breaking down the door in the process.

“What is it, you buffoon?” Arthur nearly groaned. Of course, he didn’t mean to sound annoyed with his boyfriend, but his week had been long. With uncooperative students (which were a rarity in his professor life at a well-respected university) and Alfred disappearing every now and then more than usual, as much as he hated to admit it, he was severely Alfred-deprived in the process. “With these new papers to grade, I have more than enough to deal with at the moment, Alfred. I don’t need your shouting pushing me towards a headache. And for the last time, my name is Arthur.”

At the slightly cutting tone in Arthur’s voice, Alfred’s bright expression fell considerably to a pout and he asked quietly, “Does that mean you’re not free tonight...?” And he had finally managed to worm his way out of an assignment too!

Arthur winced when he saw Alfred began to retreat into his dark and gloomy mental corner specifically designed for sulking. He sighed heavily, immediately regretting his choice in words. Although, he had to beat back the thought of how someone as sexy as Alfred could manage to pull off such an adorable face. “I’m sorry Alfred,” Arthur apologized. He moved to rest his elbows on the table, lacing his fingers together and placed his chin on the makeshift cradle created by them, “I’m just really frustrated right now. But I’ll hear you out; what do you have in mind?”

The gloom immediately evaporated from Alfred’s face as if it wasn’t there in the first place. He skipped up to Arthur’s desk and slammed his hands down on it. He leaned forward so that his face was inches away from Arthur’s. “I,” he withheld an excited manly squeal, “made dinner plans for us!”

A pause.

“You,” Arthur arched a fuzzy eyebrow, “made plans.” He didn’t believe him. Nope, not one bit. No way, Alfred F. Jones did not ever make plans.

He looked a bit hurt at Arthur’s lack of confidence in his less than obvious planning skills but went on nonetheless, “It’s at that fancy place downtown! The one you kept telling me about ever since it opened. And you know how we haven’t been able to spend time with each other properly for a while, so I took the first chance at free time I could and rung up the place. I was really excited so, uh, sorry about not tell—“

Alfred was cut off by a pleasant and familiar warm pressure against his lips. He blinked a few times in surprise as he vaguely registered that Arthur had tugged on his tie to bring him into a kiss to shut him up. Humming happily, he closed his eyes and moved a hand to cup Arthur’s cheek and tilt his head to the side to give them both a better angle. He sucked gently on Arthur’s lower lip, bringing forth a quiet moan from him in the process. When they finally parted, Arthur gazed at him with a self-satisfied smirk and he crossed his arms.

“When should I be ready?”

I’m honestly not sure where I’m headed with this idea, but I have an idea. If all else fails, I’ll make this somewhat drabble-y?

To Be Powerless 1a/?

[(Anonymous)]

Just want to specify, this is not shota! Hong Kong is an adult!

Hong Kong’s lips were soft against Macau’s, as the taller SAR ran his fingers through his hair. Hong Kong was a head shorter than Macau, so he was tucked comfortably against his body as they lay on Macau’s bed.

They broke the kiss; there hadn’t even been tongue. Since Japan all those years ago, Macau had been taking things slowly in order to not scare Hong Kong.

He hadn’t intended to get in a relationship with Hong Kong; in fact, he would have never considered it all the years they were under Portugal and England’s rule.

But when they both returned, half-Westernized bastards, there had been none who truly understood them. China had no time for getting to know them again; he expected them to be exactly the same as when they’d left, and was deeply disappointed when they were not. The others within the country had their own matters to attend to, and besides, found them rather strange.

So, they’d ended up bonding with each other, sitting up at night playing Hong Kong’s movies and video games, and Macau teaching Hong Kong every type of betting game he knew, despite the fact he lost chronically to Hong Kong.

Hong Kong was ever a risk taker, and had kissed him full on the lips one night, instantly offering the explanation that he’d never kissed anybody before. Then, ever a flirt, he offered to try again if the first time wasn’t good enough.

It had pretty much gone from there; they were only at an early stage in their secret relationship. Some might consider it strange, but nations were like that; few were considered off limits. And they wouldn’t have been afraid for nations in general to know; the only obstacle was China.

China lived in fear that there would be revolutions in his country; he suspiciously regarded most relationships between anyone in his empire. Especially those that were ‘outsiders,’ such as Tibet, or Inner Mongolia. Or Macau and Hong Kong themselves.

Hong Kong, however, was the firecracker spicing up Macau’s life now, and he didn’t intend to let China stop them. Today had been a quiet day, ordained by Macau to slow down Hong Kong’s insistence on going to exciting places and watching exciting movies, and just generally buzzing about like a bee taking pictures with his phone.

Today, Hong Kong’s phone was missing, and he wasn’t sure where he’d put it. Macau had been a little concerned, as he remembered Hong Kong taking a picture of them sharing a kiss, among other things.

But now was not the time to worry. Instead, he asked, “See? Isn’t this nice?”

Hong Kong had a small smile on his face; those were rare enough, and generally specially for Macau. “Yeah…” Then the smile turned into an evil smirk. “But you know what else is fun?”

“What-?” Macau barely got a chance to respond before Hong Kong’s lips crashed into his, tongue pushing past his lips and attempting to swirl around. Hong Kong tried to suck really hard with his mouth, almost like he was trying to eat Macau. It was an awkward attempt at making out, disjointed and just trying a little too hard.

Macau managed to break off the kiss, trying very hard not to smile. “Where’d you learn to kiss, Hong?”

Hong Kong, however, immediately caught on that he was laughing at him, and turned red. “Nowhere,” he admitted, sounding embarrassed.

Macau felt bad, reaching out and wrapping an arm around him. “It’s okay; we all have to start somewhere.” His somewhere had been the Philippines, a pretty girl who had belonged to Spain at the time. He had been probably more awkward than Hong Kong.

Hong Kong buried his face in Macau’s chest, murmuring, “Stop saying things like that; it’s so embarrassing…”

Macau chuckled. “All right. But just so you know, you’re better at being romantic than I was at your age.”

“Ugh…” Hong Kong groaned, apparently still embarrassed at ruining the romantic moment.

Footsteps came up the stairs, and Macau was quick to separate from Hong Kong. If it was China, or anyone who would tell on them, they would be in trouble.

And it was China, who opened the door without knocking and frowned at both of them. “What are you doing?” A wok was in his hand, and Macau wondered if he had been about to start dinner.

To Be Powerless 1b/?

[(Anonymous)]

“Talking,” Macau said, shrugging.

Hong Kong nodded, adding, “About video games. You would be bored, old man.”

“I’m not old,” China said with annoyance. But he didn’t seem normal, and he was looking at them with narrowed eyes. “Do you have anything you’d like to tell me?”

“You have too many slippers?” Hong Kong said, raising one massive eyebrow.

Macau shrugged again, saying, “No, I don’t believe we do.”

“Really? Are you sure?” China seemed to be tense, fingers tightening and loosening around the handle of his wok.

“No, we have nothing to tell you,” Macau said, wondering why he was being so persistent. Then it hit him; China wasn’t using his verbal tic. He tended to drop it when he was being serious, deadly serious. He looked over at Hong Kong.

China must know. They should tell him, and spare themselves the worst of punishments.

Hong Kong, however, ignored the look, insisting, “Old man, you drank some weird tea, didn’t you?”

China muttered darkly, looking straight at Hong Kong, “Come and tell me to my face you are not in a relationship.”

Hong Kong brazenly stood, and came over to stand almost nose to nose with China. “We’re not in a relationship.”

Macau stood as well, but hung back, afraid of how this would turn out.

“Then why,” China said, pulling Hong Kong’s phone out of his pocket and turning the screen on, “are you kissing in this picture?”

Hong Kong apparently saw no reason to lie anymore. “Like, so what if we’re dating? What’s the big deal?”

“China, we didn’t do this to go behind your back,” Macau put in, trying to soften the blow.

But China’s face was turning darker, as he growled back at Hong Kong, “The ‘big deal’ is, it’s not allowed! Do I have to repeat myself until I am purple in the face?! You cannot date!”

“Well, we’re going to anyway!” Hong Kong snapped, glaring back at China.

Macau’s heart gave a sickening jolt. No, this was not good! While he had every intention of carrying on behind China’s back, he wouldn’t’ve said so! He came over, saying softly, “It just happened; we weren’t doing this with the intention of breaking the rules, China.”

“No, you are not!” China said shrilly, pointing at Hong Kong with the cell phone. “You are going to be moved to stay with Fujian, Hong Kong, until both of you have cooled off, however long that may take. I can wait as long as necessary.”

“You’re a selfish bastard! Macau and I are small anyway!” Hong Kong yelled back, fists clenched and dark eyes blazing with anger.

Macau put a hand on his shoulder. He loved him, and that was why he would have to let him go; he had to protect him. “I’ll go stay with Fujian; you don’t need to punish Hong Kong.”

“Don’t call me a bastard! If you call me a bastard again, I will knock you out!” China was ignoring Macau, snarling back at Hong Kong in rage.

“We are leaving!” Hong Kong announced, shocking Macau and enraging China further. “We’re getting the democratic countries’ support, and we are leaving and forming our own country! You can rot alone, bastard!”

The gong resounded through the room, and Hong Kong crumpled to the floor. Macau jumped in between Hong Kong and China, saying, “Please, don’t punish him; punish me. It was all my idea.”

“As if this was really all your idea! Hong Kong may be young, but he’s an upstart! Get out of my way!” China growled at Macau, wielding his wok.

Stuck with You (9/?)

[(Anonymous)]

It’s been a long while. Are OP and anons still there? I apologise for the lack of new chapters, and unfortunately I cannot promise that I’m going to update regularly. Nevertheless, I’ll try to finish this fill.
These chapters will hopefully lead me back into the story. Hope you enjoy!

Previous parts (1 (prologue)- 8): http://hetalia-kink.livejournal.com/22015.html?thread=93419775#t93419775

Acht

“I cannot believe that you asked me to ‘turn you on’, as you put it,” Austria says as soon as Prussia enters the house. The ex-nation looks tired, but Austria can’t bring himself to care.

“Have you taken a look at our message history?” Prussia asks, taking off his shoes. “It’s full of Gilbert asking Roderich to send him lewd messages himHe sends Austria a dubious look. “Not that Roderich complies, but he’s friendlier than you are, really. I guess he’s just hiding his insecurities about dirty-talk.”

Austria blinks. “Surely you must be lying.”

“No, I’m serious.” Prussia yawns. “Feel like making dinner for me?”

"I already did,” Austria replies tersely.

“Good, cause I feel like eating a horse right now.”

“A shame,” Austria says, regarding his well-manicured fingernails, “I felt like cooking something vegetarian.”

Prussia who’s been on his way to the stairs, whirls around. “What.”

“You said you could eat a horse. I’m afraid there’s only veggies and dairy for you.”

“Is there anything you’re actually good for?”

Austria scowls at him. Prussia shrugs and climbs up the stairs As soon as he’s gone, Austria gets his mobile phone and opens his past conversations with Gilbert. What he sees is so familiar that he searches his own memories in case it was him writing those messages.

‘I’m so bored, Roddy. Are you still with your prissy musician friends? Send me some pictures.’

The next one is from Gilbert again: ‘I wanted pictures of YOU, not of your conductor’s crotch! Seriously, Roderich? Why am I even married to you?’

Roderich: ‘I’m trying to tell you that I’m with the orchestra right now and that the conductor is holding a speech. Please refrain from sending me vulgar demands, it’s not suitable. I don’t know why you married me. You tell me.’

Gilbert: ‘Uh, how about you screw suitable? I’m bored. I married you because you’re really hot and when you take a holiday from the stick up your ass, you’re almost as awesome as me. If I could, I’d have ten babies with you and we’d name them all Gilbert, except for the girls. Those would be called Gilberta. And we’d teach them medieval sword fighting and then we’ll let them rebuild the Prussian empire with their awesome spouses and our one hundred grandchildren.'

‘I’m so glad we’re men. So incredibly glad.’

‘Why? Because you can’t lift a sword?’

‘Gilbert, I’m going to switch off my phone.’

‘Aw, at least send me the pictures of YOU that I asked for.’

‘Why don’t you wait for the real thing?’

‘I’m picking you up right now.’

‘That’s convenient, because practise is over.’

‘… Well played, baby. Well played.’

Austria feels the triumphant smirk on his lips that Roderich must have had in that moment. Gilbert and Roderich really aren’t all too different from what they are in their own world.

It's from Part 23

[(Anonymous)]

Forgot to add that.

[Part 10] One and One is Two - Germany/Canada [5/?]

[(Anonymous)]

<sub>OP: http://hetalia-kink.livejournal.com/13125.html?thread=31303749#t31303749

earlier parts: http://hetalia-kink.livejournal.com/17465.html?thread=57888569#t57888569</sub>

As it turned out not only was Canada up, but he was a morning person. Most of the nations were still abed, the Scandinavian nations minus Finland were present as were England, France and it looked like Roumania and Bulgaria huddled into a corner near the terrace. He took a moment to survey the Scandinavians, fighting over something or other it seemed before turning his attention to Canada again.

He was in the opposite corner in the non formal dining room, curled on a plush burgundy chair, cup of something hot on his lap. His eyes fixed on a novel of some sort. Making sure Italy was properly distracted with the food, and ensuring France was properly distracted from Italy by England, Ludwig found himself approaching the blond.

“Guten morgen,” he offered, taking a seat across from him. Canada looked up at him in shock, book still in hand, violet-blue eyes wide.

“Good morning,” he sounded baffled, as if the fact Ludwig still wanted to talk to him was a novel idea of some sort. “Er, did you sleep well, Ludwig?”

“Oh yes,” Ludwig nodded, unconsciously shifting until he was standing at ease while pointedly not thinking about his dream. “Very well.”

Canada gave him a strange smile, slowly surveying Ludwig and making no attempt to hide it, much to the German's surprise. “Why are you standing like that?”

Ludwig, if possible, straightened even more. “Like what?” he asked and frowned when Canada snickered into his mug before taking a sip.

“Like a fresh-pressed recruit in front of his commanding officer,” a smile was playing at his lips, and Ludwig knew his own frown was quickly disappearing.

“I like standing like this,” he said, trying to sound confident. “Does it bother you?”

“A little,” Canada said bluntly, waving at a nearby chair, “sit, I don't like having large blond men loom over me. The last time that happened I ended up in the back of Russia's car with a beaver and a hangover the size of Eurasia.”

Ludwig blinked and wondered what in the name of all things good Canada could have been doing that included drinking, Russia's back seat and a beaver. He couldn't think up any one scenario that wasn't disturbing to the core.

Canada must have noticed the look on his face because he nodded sagely. “Never go drinking with Sweden when he's had a fight with Finland,” he said solemnly, “I always end up in the strangest places.”

Ludwig nodded before something occurred to him. “Wait, Sweden?"^elsewhere

Canada actually did laugh that time. “Yup,” he said, “drinks me under the table. Every time.”

“I imagine so,” Ludwig said, not quite sure what else he could say. 'My brother mentioned you were a lightweight' seemed a bit...creepy for lack of a better word. The conversation came to a rather abrupt, though not awkward, stop after that and Ludwig took the time to reach for a menu.

As he debated whether or not a croissant was really what he wanted Canada simply sat watching him. Finally Ludwig looked up, waiting for Canada to say whatever was on his mind. “I had a nice time last night,” Canada offered, smiling shyly, all his earlier teasing gone.

“As did I,” Ludwig said slowly before looking back down at the menu and coughed awkwardly. “What did you have for breakfast?”

“Oh, just some fruit,” Canada said brightly. “But I hear the croissants are good.”

Ludwig nodded. Croissants is was then.

One and One is Two - Germany/Canada - Elsewhere [Outtake]

[(Anonymous)]

Across the room the Scandinavian countries, who had been squabbling over who should get the last muffin looked up and over to see Germany talking to Canada, though the German was currently giving them a rather incredulous look. “What do you suppose that's all about?” Denmark asked, head cocked to the side. Norway shrugged, not looking up from his crossword puzzle while Iceland managed to grab the muffin from under everyone's distracted nose.

“Probably the beaver thing,” he said around a delicious mouthful of lemon-poppy seed heaven. “'Cause that was really fucking weird, even for you two.

Sweden considered that for a moment. Then he nodded. Finland frowned. “What exactly did happen with that?”

Sweden opened his mouth to explain but was cut off by an indignant Denmark.

“You little bastard! That was my muffin!”

Iceland took another large bite, “don't see your name on it,” he said while chewing. Norway batted at him absently.

“Don't speak with your mouth open,” he said firmly, “especially not in my house. Now what could this be, number 15 down, The Scottish blank. Six words.”

“Mensen?” Denmark offered.

“In Norwegian, asshat.”

[Part 13] Leave Me in the Dark Place Holder

[(Anonymous)]

Request: http://hetalia-kink.livejournal.com/16221.html?thread=44728157#t44728157

Hopefully I'm doing this right. >o<
This is A!A first time filling. Please be kind. ;u;

Leave Me in the Dark [Part 1a/?]

[(Anonymous)]

Romano had always been guarded. He had always kept himself distanced from the others with his fiery attitude and foul mouth, but it was for good reason; his actions and behavior were justifiable. At least, in his eyes they were.

There had always been a hidden purpose to Romano’s constant glares and sullen attitude, and he prided himself on not having the others find out why. It was his darkest secret he kept hidden with those looks filled with rage and annoyance. His innermost feelings, fears, and thoughts – the things that could destroy his being with the simplest utterance of their existence – were bottled up, forever contained, and Romano was the only one allowed to know of them. His hubris was far too great for him to allow anyone, even his own brother, to know of them; to possibly stab him in the back and tear him apart emotional piece by piece, like frenzied sharks feeding upon a whale carcass.

It wasn’t as if today had been any different. The representation of South Italy had attended the world meeting as usual, his normal, unpleasant scowl in place throughout the whole cumbersome experience. He had watched France and England squabble; had cursed the potato bastard for getting close to his brother; he had sat next to Spain the entire time, which was torture all on its own. However, despite the normalcy of the Italian’s day, Romano had felt that awful feeling of anxiety and cheapness bubble up inside him and sit in his chest like lead, heavy and constantly present. It was usual for the feeling to arise every so often, though it normally occurred in the privacy of Romano’s home where he could fall to his knees and sob and cry out to appease the anxiety and persuade the cheapness to disappear; which could take hours. He could never do such a thing in front of so many people. The proud Italian would never let the world see him break down and cry. Instead, Romano stiffened in his chair, his eyes narrowing into a fierce glare, and clutched his hands into fists, resting them on top of his thighs, and squeezed till his knuckles turned white.
Spain, Romano noticed, looked as if he were about to start asking questions. The auburn headed male didn’t want anyone talking to him. He didn’t want their concern; he didn’t want them attempting to peer into his mind and try to figure him out; he most certainly didn’t want them breaking his wall that he had worked so hard to build up. Romano would have to stop Spain before he had the chance.

“What are you staring at, bastard?” The question was hissed and laced with malice, a thing not uncommon from the Italian. Romano should have known Spain would take some notice. The Spaniard wasn’t as oblivious as most made him out to be.

“I was just wondering if you were alright,” came the hushed response. The Spaniard watched as enraged, olive eyes locked on him in a furious glare.

“I’m fine, dammit. What the hell made you think there was something wrong?”

“Well, I was just con-”

“I don’t need your damned concern,” Romano cut in, his abrasive tone unfamiliar to Spanish ears. Feeling the tiniest bit deflated, Spain attempted once more.

“But Romano, you’re clearly upset about something! You’re acting all stiff and tense. I know you don’t like attending these meetings, but you’re normally never like this.” Romano regarded Spain fiercely as he looked at him with pleading eyes, as if he were silently begging God and His power to get some word out of the stubborn Italian. No response was given. The wavy haired man sat and waited, and waited, and waited, hoping for the smallest indication that Romano would tell him something, anything. And, eventually Romano decided to utter two words that would, hopefully, make himself clear.

“Fuck off.”

[Part 23] World/ America - Shirtless 6/ ?

[(Anonymous)]

:'D I'm not dead- just some problems that kept me from updating Thanks for reading.

Russia pulled the American tighter, inhaling the warmth that radiated off the other tall nation. Alfred pulled off his glasses, and looked up at Ivan. He forced a weak smile.

“You are not sleeping?” Ivan asked, stroking the thick bulge of the other man’s arms. Russia was impressed; they rivalled his own.

“How could I?” Alfred giggled shyly, trying to keep his face its regular shade, hoping there was no blood rushing. He shifted a bit and wrapped his arms around the wintry Nation. “T-That was fun…” America pressed his face into the crook of Russia’s shoulder. “I never thought-“

“Sh…” Ivan soothed, rubbing the other’s back. “Sleep, Fredka…”

And when the American eventually tumbled back into slumber, the Northern nation grunted and congratulated himself mentally. His suspicions were right. The so-called superpower was just too lonely.


Japan and England narrowed their eyes at each other as the two leaned against the wall of the hotel corridor on the floor of America’s hotel room. They had gotten into a short tussle after confronting each other of spying on America’s hotel room as to see who had carried him off from the group dinner. To think someone had managed to so quickly wrapped America around his finger was astonishing. England had already made sure Francis was chained to the door, so it wasn’t that frog.

Arthur definitely had to hand it to Kiku. The personification of Japan still acted stoic and guarded even when you could tell he was fuming inside. The two were considered America/Alfred’s best friends (save for Candania, or something). It was only natural for a sudden love to bloom.

And Arthur was sure what he suddenly felt was love, right?

Kiku checked his wristwatch and signalled to Arthur that it was almost 1:26am. England’s spine straightened as he heard a door shut quietly, soft footsteps turning louder. Japan noticed the Brit’s sudden wakening, and turned his head to meet the eyes of a rather eerie Russian.

Russia smirked. “America considers you two friends, da?”

Japan just nodded slowly.

“Da, you should just stay friends then.”

“You don’t love him you goof!” England snapped, stabbing a finger at Russia’s arm.

“I don’t know if I don’t love him. But admit it- you don’t too.”

The Briton’s face paled. “You two fought a psychological war that nearly caused the destruction of MANKIND. The hell do you want him for?!”

Russia adjusted his scarf and smiled innocently. “I’ve never had had what everyone else wants. It’s fun, especially that it’s Amerika.”


He was going to have to have a talk with those other jerks currently buddy-ing up to his dense brother. Canada wasn’t a cynic person; he knew that some actually did care for America’s well being. But he couldn’t bear to see his innocent brother hurt, or used. He knew that would never be the case for some nations like Lithuania, and Canada did expect a lot from the self-proclaimed gentleman, and Canada KNEW nations like Norway and Germany didn’t give, but sometimes, he compared those World Meetings to high school. A quick rise up the ladder doesn’t end well, and the fall can hurt. He didn’t want his brother hurt.


Note: Uh, yeah, sorry for late update T__T Like what, 4 months. Also, I notice a LOT of errors in my past fills, and it's very likely I have some here, too. I don't get these beta'd and it might be a good idea if I ever de-anon these, but just bare with me for now (: Thanks

[Part 23] World/ America - Shirtless 7/ ?

[(Anonymous)]

Maybe it was the way the twins grew up. Alfred was the voice, Canada was the thought. The sad part was America didn’t say what Canada thought, and Canada never thought what America said. They had a twin bond, a blood-related resemblance bond, but they had different views on people. And even if Alfred tried to be careful, and Matthew was growing tired of watching over the idiot sometimes, he never stopped. He knew America was a sweet and loveable person, but not the brightest crayon in the box.
It was only right Canada decide if the one to also receive the American love was worthy.


“Oh! Hey Maria!” Alfred’s chirpy voice greeted as a familiar face…unlocked his hotel room door and walked in. For a second, Alfred was downright freaked out- who just walked in uninvited into someone’s hotel room...?

And how?

Nevertheless, he hadn’t spoken to his once ‘colony’ face to face in quite a while. Maria smiled sweetly-brightened by a tenfold when against her beautiful tan skin. She waved at America and her lips curved in a smirk when she noticed that his top half was completely exposed…

Exposing the beauty of the Appalachian ranges.

“America, hi!”

Alfred raised an eyebrow at how nonchalant the other seemed to be. She had just walked in uninvited for crying out loud. America chuckled nervously and scratched the back of his head. “M-Maria, it’s nice to see you and all, but…you just broke into my hotel room…”

Maria rolled her eyes. Ignoring his confused expression, she skipped over to his king-sized bed, slightly perturbed by the dent in both pillows supplied. However, she brushed it off- Alfred rolling over in his sleep was a perfect reasoning. She was sure no one had been in his room!

The South Asian nation kicked off her favourite sandals and hopped onto the soft bed, wrapping her long arms around the surprised American.

“Maria!” America laughed, this time with an ounce of fear. What the hell was this girl doing?

Her small hands then roamed across America’s sides, her eyes widening at how tough and strong they felt. She instantly felt herself blush. Why had she NEVER known this when she lived at his house?!

Before she could say anything, America had squealed from the ticklish touch and squirmed his way out of her hold. His tall body fell feet first onto the floor.

“Oi, Maria, what was that for? You never answered my early question eith-“

Muah!

Philippines pressed her demure lips upon America’s and pulled back instantly. “You really are America…the beautiful.”

This sent shivers down the superpower. He instantly backed up. “Uh, w-whoa, Maria… Y-you and me…you know I don’t control y-you, anymore, you and I d-d-don’t need to be living in the same r-r-room…” Alfred was completely confused. What the hell was that kiss for? He tried to put together how any of this made sense, stammering as Maria pursed her lips, hands on her hips. She was clearly not amused.

Maria sighed in exasperation. “Really?” She mumbled something under her breath.

Alfred recognized the demeanor that Maria was currently channeling. It reminded him of the Philippines-America war…

Aw crap, what did I do now to make her act all weird around me! Alfred smacked his forehead. Was this some sort of mind-control thingy…OHSHIT, ghosts and spirits do this, CRAP-CRAP-CRAP-CRAP-MUST-GET-AWAY-SHE’S-POSSESED!

The female nation was about to say something when Alfred grabbed his glasses and dashed out the door…

Just, y’know, forgetting a shirt. (-shrug-)

"REALLY?!" Maria sighed. As she strapped back on her sandals, she noticed two half empty bowls of borscht soup...

Torment 1a/?

[(Anonymous)]

It wasn’t a cold day, but a chill hung in the air as France stood across from England on the deck of the pirate’s ship. Chests of gold, all from loaned from France to Spain, were piled on the deck, the last being brought on by a deckhand.

France looked at England, face schooled to carelessness. “As you can see, we’ve met your ransom. Now hand him over.”

England smirked, gesturing to one of his pirates and saying, “Bring that pitiful little creature out here.”

It was a good thing Spain was not here, France realized, as the figure was dragged out by his chains. He wasn’t walking, and he wasn’t fighting, instead clinging to his chains to try to soften the drag. He was breathing heavily, as though trying to fight screaming or moaning.

“Romano…” France murmured, even though he knew he shouldn’t betray emotion. The boy was about the physical age of a fourteen year old, and the emotional age of a seven year old. He felt some disgust that England would sink to this level.

Romano’s head jerked, and France realized he was blindfolded. “France? You’re here? Where’s Spain?”

England kicked him in the side, caused a pained yelp. “Shut up, you runt. Now, France… As you can see, he is reasonably intact. If you want him still alive, you’ll sweeten our deal.”

“We already had a deal,” France said, feeling anger but keeping his face calm. If Spain were here, there might be no controlling him. He would be raging at the sight of Romano.

England smirked, saying, “Well, he has been a lot of trouble to take care of… First with all the cursing and name calling, then with all the fighting and crying, not to mention all the complaining… And really, isn’t he worth more to Spain than ten chests of gold?”

Romano’s face seemed alert, fists clenched and lips pressed tightly between his teeth.

France knew he didn’t have a lot to bargain with. He replied, “Would you rather not have anything? In case you don’t recall, I have no such feelings towards Romano.”

Romano cried out, “No! Don’t leave me here!”

England kicked him again with a frown. “I see. You’d disappoint your dear friend that way? A shame.”

“Better to disappoint him than pay more than a territory is worth,” France said, though inwardly he was praying that England wouldn’t call his bluff and ruin everything. He couldn’t afford to lose Romano, but he simply didn’t have any more to barter with.

Romano burst into sobs, though he abruptly choked on them instead when England gave him a well-aimed kick to the ribs.

“Shut up!” England seemed to consider, then finally had a face which looked like he thought he were being generous. “All right. You may take him and go; he’s useless to me anyhow.”

France’s men watched, and France walked forward cautiously. Any second, England could leap forward and try to lop off his head. He crouched next to Romano, taking a quick look over.

If he wasn’t mistaken, that was crusted blood around the back hems of his pants, and his wrists were chafed to the point of bleeding. From the awkward way he was holding himself, there were probably hurts hidden by the baggy clothes on him.

Since he couldn’t walk, France lifted Romano, as one of England’s pirates unlocked the shackles on his wrists.

England gave a small laugh. “I’m afraid I’ll be keeping the shackles; they are worth considerably more than him.”

Romano hands gripped France’s shirt, and he could feel the shiver throughout his whole body.

France frowned, but stepped back. “Until we meet again.” And he left the chests, and surrounded by his men he walked across the gang plank back to his own ship.

God, he hated England, he reflected, as England laughed and Romano shook violently in his arms.

A!anon

[(Anonymous)]

Sorry, this is all there is for the first part; it will get longer.

(Part 23) Kiss on the Lips

[(Anonymous)]

ORIGINAL PROMPT (http://hetalia-kink.livejournal.com/22015.html?thread=93398271#t93398271): Feliciano and Ludwig are university students in Germany and they share an apartment. After a while, they start to fall madly for each other, but Feliciano is in massive denial about his crush on Ludwig.

I didn't do this prompt justice at all. I attached onto the idea of them having sex and tried to put in snippets of their relationship until this point buuuuut I just kinda wanted to write porn... buuuut this prompt is so great, maybe I'll elaborate one day? I don't know. I hope OP likes this!

Kiss on the Lips - 1

[(Anonymous)]

There was nothing wrong with it if I don’t kiss his lips. Those were the thoughts repeating themselves endlessly in Feliciano’s mind. Every time he pressed against that sweet, sweet neck he closed his eyes tight and instead attempted to focus on how soft the skin was. Like a girl’s. A pretty, pretty girl’s.

There’s no way he can be mistaken for a girl.

“Stop…” Feliciano murmured against the hot skin as he dragged his lips against Ludwig’s throat.

“Mmm?” Ludwig grunted, and Feliciano pushed against those burly shoulders so Ludwig was flat against the futon, the bars digging into his shoulders from beneath the thin mattress.

“Nothing,” Feliciano mumbled, his heart throbbing in his ears. “Shhh.”

”Have you had many girlfriends, Ludwig? Surely someone like you must have!” Feliciano said cheerfully as he pushed his peas around his plate. Ludwig glanced up from his bowl, took a breath, and shook his head. Feliciano recoiled and furrowed his brow, leaning back in surprise and nearly knocking into a student sitting at the table behind him. “What! Surely that’s not true! Someone who looks like you would have the girls all over you!” Ludwig looked back down at his bowl and shrugged.

“Not really,” Ludwig said with a small blush, and Feliciano, feeling uncomfortable, changed the subject immediately. He didn’t want to start off on a bad foot in the first week of classes with his new roommate.

“Heh,” Ludwig mumbled back, and reached up to grip Feliciano’s butt in his hand, bringing their hips together again through their jeans. Feliciano nearly bit down on his neck at the pleasure coursing through his veins and parted his lips wide, sucking even harder from Ludwig’s skin; Ludwig met it with a pant, thrusting his hips in shorter, harder strides. Ludwig wrapped one of his ankles around Feliciano’s, and slid his fingers between the lip of the Italian’s jeans and his bare back, his shirt riding up with his erratic movements.

“Ahhohh,” Feliciano breathed into Ludwig’s neck, as the former ghosted his thumb just down Feliciano’s spine, causing the hairs on his skin to straighten considerably. His cheeks were hot and his shirt was dampening with sweat but he met every thrust with a buck and dragged his fingernails down over taut muscle.

“Ludi! Luuuuuuudiiiiii! I’m glad you came!” Ludwig immediately smiled at the familiar face as Feliciano squirmed between sweat-soaked bodies in the tiny basement flat. Feliciano, cheeks a healthy pink and eyes brighter than ever, grabbed Ludwig’s face in his hands and gave each cheek a wet kiss; he then threw his arms around his neck and gave him the biggest hug Ludwig had ever experienced.

“Ahhh, Ludi, you must try—this!” Feliciano chirped, and shoved a cup of something unidentifiable into his hands. Ludwig smiled weakly down at Feliciano, who was hanging off of him like an article of clothing. Ludwig’s brother had somehow disappeared into the depths of the party already, leaving the first-year university student standing awkwardly beside the other first-year university student he’d been crushing on for three weeks. Feliciano beamed up at Ludwig, standing just close enough that his hip brushed against Ludwig’s thigh.

Feliciano was now straddling him, knees on either sides of his waist, hands trailing down Ludwig’s chest until they settled on his hips, quickly unbuttoning his jeans. Ludwig gulped and curled his toes into the sofa cushion, wanting nothing more than to strip everything from both their bodies and ravish Feliciano as fast as possible.

When Ludwig arrived back to their flat after being home for the weekend, Feliciano always greeted him with a kiss on the cheek.

In My Veins (Feliciano X Kiku) PART 2

[(Anonymous)]

Here’s Part Two! Hope you enjoy it!

“Ciao” = Hello
“Konnichiwa” = Good Afternoon
“Buon pomeriggio” = Good Afternoon
“Mi dispiace” = I’m sorry.
“Dummkopf” = Idiot
“Trottel” = Fool
“Bis nachher” = See you later
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Kiku walked out of the meeting hall, feeling even more depressed than he had earlier. He hadn’t been able to pay attention to the meeting at all. He had been too distracted by the uncommonly vivid recollections of his dream to listen to the other nation argue about how they were going to solve the world’s problems. And it hadn’t helped that Feliciano had been there. Truthfully, his entrance had surprised the poor Japanese man, even though Kiku had no idea why he hadn’t expected the Italian to be there. He was a nation after all. Why wouldn’t he be at a world meeting? Kiku let out a tired sigh. He was really out of it today. At least, now he could go home and try to forget about the whole thing…maybe some sake would help…

“Kiku! Ciao!”

Kiku’s heart skipped a beat as he turned towards the sound of that familiar sing-song voice. Sure enough Feliciano was running towards him followed by a briskly walking Ludwig. Normally, Kiku would have been thrilled to see his friends, but with last night’s dream still haunting him, Kiku wanted to do nothing more than run away from them. However, he forced himself to remain where he was and smile as the Italian and German caught up with him.

“Konnichiwa, Feliciano-kun, Ludwig-san.” He greeted in a soft voice, giving them a respectful bow.

“Buon pomeriggio!” Feliciano chirped happily in return as he reached Kiku, automatically leaning forward and pecking the Japanese man on both cheeks in greeting. Kiku let him, long ago learning about the Italian’s disappointment if he wasn’t allowed the customary greeting. Funny though, how the platonic kisses still caused Kiku’s heart to skip a beat despite the fact that he knew full well the meant nothing more than ‘Hello.’

Just then Ludwig reached the two, giving a slightly impatient sigh. “Feliciano, you know that Kiku doesn’t like such close physical contact. You should respect his wishes and refrain.”

“Aww, but Ludwig, Kiku is fine with it, aren’t you, Kiku?” Feliciano whined, unabashedly using the Japanese man’s first name. However, Kiku didn’t object to the incredibly familiar gesture, secretly happy about it.

Part 21 Germancest Lordosis behavior part 1

[(Anonymous)]

http://hetalia-kink.livejournal.com/21382.html?thread=88821638#t88821638

Ludwig had researched this phenomenon, the way he had arched his back any time Gilbert approached him during foreplay, giving him that leering smile full of teeth and lust and passion. Lordosis. Lordodsis, he told himself, that's what he was doing. "A physical sexual posture seen in female mammals, including humans, mice, cats..." read Wikipedia, and caused his brow to arch. Well, at least he knew it was natural, even though he wasn't a human female. Every damn time, too, his ass was in the air, and his lower back was curving unnaturally towards the mattress. Gilbert didn't seem to mind, though. His hands would roam the vast expanse of milky skin, pinching and teasing, mouth rambling until he received a sharp glare from baby blues that clearly told him to shut up.

Those white fingers would rub in the right places, making him purr and arch higher, ass waving tantalizingly right in front of crimson eyes and an impure mind. "Ey, West..." came the husky entreat, and the panting blonde could feel the dip in the bed where Gilbert's knees were planted close to his own spread ones, "what say you to a little doggy-style fuck, but like real dogs, hm?" The question addled the blonde's lust hazed mind, but after a moment, he nodded sharply, face tinged a bright pink. The albino's heart leaped at the small action. One of his most desired kinks was finally seeing the light of day.

"What exactly does this entail?" questioned the blonde, hands curling around silk satin sheets taken out for just this occasion, and head twisting to glance over his shoulder.

"Just the usual, growling and stuff" came the lazy reply, and he shucked off his pants and boxers in one swift go, tossing them blindly in the direction of the hamper. He'd get scolded afterwards, but not if he left West so well fucked he couldn't speak from screaming. Which was usually the case every time they screwed but hey, he wasn't bragging or anything. "Could call you my bitch, since, well, you are" He smiled and patted the pale ass when the blonde growled. "See? You're getting it!"

Ludwig rolled his eyes and pushed himself up, now on his hands and knees, and he turned his upper body to look contemptuously at his lover. "I think you are the one supposed to be growling, ja?" he inquired. There was a faint gleam of mischief in his eye at the request, and Gilbert was wont to notice it. "Come on, I'm your bitch, right?" Well, this was new, his voice had changed to a sultry purr, something that happened once in a blue moon. "Fuck me like one."

The demand had hardly been processed through the albino before he was in character, biting at creamy shoulders, clawing at a waist, and growling low in the back of his throat. Threatening and deep, he asserted his dominance over the younger, pushing the heel of his palm against the small of his back to push his chest down again. "I'm gonna make you scream West..." he whispered, grinding hard and rough against the cleft of the blonde's ass. It earned him a whimper in response, and his cock twitched eagerly, desperate to be inside the tight velvet heat.

Ludwig didn't respond, and he took it as a sign to move forward. His hands pressed down on Ludwig's shoulders, forcing his front down and rear end up, touching against his lower abdomen. A slow lick ran from bottom to top of his back, hot breath washing over his blushing cheeks and ears. "You're mine...you're not gonna talk to anyone, or look at anyone, mine..." he whispered hotly in his ear, and heard the tell-tale sound of a hidden moan. It only served to turn him on more. He thrust forward, thoroughly jolting Ludwig, who grasped a pillow at the head of the bed. The albino reached for the lube, coating three fingers, Ludwig's hold, and his own cock, before pushing the three digits in immediately. There was the scream he had wanted. He knew Ludwig liked it though, by the way he pushed back on his fingers deliciously.

Part 21 Germancest Lordosis behavior part 2

[(Anonymous)]

His mind was a haze as he stretched him, mouth curling into a leering smirk and tongue flashing out at his lips every time Ludwig made a keening whimper. "Please Gilbert...need you, so bad..." He hadn't even tried to reach his prostate before he was pulling out his fingers and pressing his already hard cock. Instantly there came a sensation of being suffocated from pleasure, which only served to drive him further in, past the inner muscles to the hilt.

"Oh my fucking god West, you're tight as a bitch..."

"Hahh...i-isn't that the point?" came the response, coupled with a roll of his hips to press his shaft deeper. It earned him a sharp nip on the jaw for his sass. He moaned. "M-more..." he begged, and Gilbert obliged. His pale hands raised his hips up and back against his cock, pounding into him incessantly, creating a drum like rhythm with the head board of the bed against the wall.

"Mine, only mine..." came the growling sound, and his nails dug into his skin, leaving bright red scratches in their wake. "No one can look at you, or talk to you." The pounding went deeper inside him as he pushed back, spurred on by his words.

"Yours!" the blonde screamed, back arching inhumanely at an angle that would make the best acrobat cringe, to press against Gilbert's pelvis and the cock lodged so deep inside him. He was going to burst from the sensation, so filled and full, unlike any other time they made love, or fucked. He hissed when teeth broke the skin of his neck, sucking the blood seeping from the wounds. "G-Gil-ahh fuck!"

"Tha's right, baby" came the slurred response. He was so damn close, but he wasn't going to come before the blonde. He pulled Ludwig's hops against him, listening to the slick slap of their joining flesh. He witnessed Ludwig on the brink, nails ripping at the pillow while his teeth tore at it in an attempt to quiet his moans. "Come for me, West, come for only me!"

A long scream was heard throughout the house, muscles rippling around Gilbert's cock in the most intense orgasm he's ever had. His mind is wiped blank, and all he can do is scream, scream Gilbert's name. The albino is pushed over the brink as well, growling out "Ludwig..." as he comes deep inside him. His seed coats his passage, claiming him for Gilbert. They both fall flat onto the bed, Gilbert's hot body covering Ludwig's equally hot body as well, and it's a few minutes before he pulls out and falls to the side.

"Jesus christ West..." comes the pant, and soon he comes to his sense enough to assess the state of his partner. A sleep smirk adorns his flushed face, hair out of place and plastered to it with sweat.

"That was amazing..." he said quietly, hand roaming Ludwig's back and rubbing slowly. He earned a nod and a shiver as he pulled the blanket over the two of them, ignoring the sticky semen drying on it as it touched Ludwig's abdomen. He gathered his lover into his arms, pressing a tender kiss to his forehead. "My Ludwig...mine" he whispered against the blonde hair, and he heard the faint laugh.

"Yours Gilbert, only yours." The albino smiled as the blonde drifted to sleep. he'd have to document this occasion in his journal. Then clean up his pants. Maybe they could do it again someday, after the neighbors lodged their noise complaints with the police.