Hetalia kink meme ([personal profile] hetalia_kink) wrote2012-06-03 02:46 pm

Hetalia Kink meme part 14 -- CLOSED

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hetalia kink meme
part 14


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(frozen comment) Rome/Germania -- Goats

[identity profile] hetalia-kink.livejournal.com 2010-07-24 04:01 am (UTC)(link)
(This is a model request. Please follow this format when requesting yourself: Pairing/character(s) and kink/prompt in subject line, BRIEF elaboration in message -- stay under 200 words and 3 bonuses. Historical background or definition of words, which can be removed without changing the prompt itself, won't count toward the limit.)

I'm requesting something humorous involving the above. Doesn't have to have smut, but smut would be nice.

Russia/Prussia/England - Threesome

(Anonymous) 2010-08-15 01:37 am (UTC)(link)
During the Napoleonic wars, three nations consumating their alliance against France.

Any other kinks anon would like to throw in are fine, like bondage, bloodplay, genderswitch etc.

He only wants us for our infantry... [1/3?]

(Anonymous) 2010-08-30 04:46 pm (UTC)(link)
History notes coming at the end of the fill.

“How many Coalitions is it now?” asked Prussia, lying on his back-- in his boots-- on England's bed. England's eyebrows twitched.

“Six,” he said, glaring stonily.

“Holy shit, man, that's a lot of Coalitions.” England breathed in and out, slowly, and found himself wondering if he really needed the other nation's help. Torgau, said .part of his mind. Jena. Auerstedt, said the other. He inhaled and exhaled again. Either way, said the most pragmatic part of his personality, he needed all the help he could get. Even if that help came in the form of-- “Seriously, what have you been doing all this time? Hasn't it been like, a decade?”

“Two,” said Russia, smiling sweetly.

England glared at the two of them. “You,” he said, gesturing at Prussia, “have fought for nineteen days in the last fifteen years. And you,” he said, turning to Russia. “Don't even get me started on you. If you had have joined us back in '93, we wouldn't even be in this situation.”

Russia's smile didn't waver. “Oh? I didn't realize you were wanting so badly for the imperial troupes of Mother Russia.”

England and Prussia shuddered in tandem. “Don't do that, man,” said Prussia. “It's creepy.”

Russia looked confused. “What have I done?”

“You... don't call yourself that, ok?”

“Call myself...?”

Mother Russia.”

“I don't think I called myself Mother Russia.”

England had his face in his hands. “You did,” he said, muffled.

“Oh,” said Russia, unrepentant.

“Anyway,” said England. “Don't you two dare intimate that I haven't been making every effort. Do you have any idea how much this war has cost me?”

“Oh yeah,” said Prussia. “We know, you haven't gotten laid since '88.” England spluttered.

“Oh?” said Russia, looking genuinely confused. “What about Amiens?”

England slammed his fist down. “I have been at war nonstop since 1792--


“Enough about Amiens! What were you two doing? Staying home and picking your noses!”

“I think he's getting mad,” said Russia.

“Yeah, calm down, man.”

And in the end, what else could he do? He buried his face in his hands. “I hate you both.”

Prussia grinned at Russia. “Come on now, old man. We know you want us.”

“I want your support If there were anyone else...”

“It's cool,” he said, putting his hands behind his head. “I don't mind being a replacement.” Russia nodded, placidly. “So, are we going to fuck or what?”

Re: He only wants us for our infantry... [1/3?]

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Re: He only wants us for our infantry... [1/3?]

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Re: authornon

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reviewer is back!

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Re: reviewer is back!

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He only wants us for our infantry... [3/7?]

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Re: He only wants us for our infantry... [3/7?]

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He only wants us for our infantry... [6/7]

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Re: He only wants us for our infantry... [6/7]

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He only wants us for our infantry... [7/7]

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He only wants us for our infantry... [Notes]

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Prussia/Canada; -- crazy misunderstandings

(Anonymous) 2010-08-15 01:49 am (UTC)(link)
AU where Matthew Kirkland-Bonnefoy is dating a certain Dr. Gilbert. The problem? he's not telling his family anytime soon and angst and crazy miscommunication happens

bonus1: they think matt is totally dying because he keeps going to doctor visits and all the rough sex is making him hella tired and not his usual self; plus Dr. Gil keeps forgetting his medicine with Matt adding to the chaos

bonus2: angsty and protective brother Alfred

bonus 3: they think it's some form of cancer like lukemia or something
basically crack, fluff and angst please. smut is not optional but appeciated
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Russia/America -- Corset Sex;

(Anonymous) 2010-08-15 01:50 am (UTC)(link)
... With Alfred in the corset.

1.) The corset is leather.
2.) Tightening of the corset as Russia approaches climax.
3.) TOTALLY CONSENSUAL SEX with references to a normally vanilla relationship.

ReCaptcha: "eceldems do" Err... do what, captcha? Have kinky corset sex? e_e

And yes, I'm aware I'm going to hell.

Ptichka 1/?

(Anonymous) 2010-09-09 01:06 am (UTC)(link)
“I’m not wearing that.”


“No.” Alfred crossed his arms over his chest and glared at the outfit his partner had placed on the bed. Leather. It was fucking leather. “There is no way in hell that I am going to wear that-- that thing.”

Ivan tilted his head to the side in- what America assumed was supposed to be- an endearing way, and frowned ever-so-slightly. “But, America, it matches your eyes.”

“How is that a good reason?”

“I went through so much trouble to get it for you,” he drawled, running a hand slowly down the front of the corset. “It is surprisingly hard to find someone that will make them custom.”

“Well, I hope you saved the damn receipt,” Alfred mumbled. God, Russia’s hands looked so deliciously sinf- he dropped the thought and averted his eyes.

Ivan’s fingers caught on the blue, silken pattern that was etched so delicately into the leather. “Alfred,” he purred dangerously, “I did not. Are you so wasteful as to have me throw all the nice things I bought for you, out?”

‘There’s more!? What the hell does he do with his free ti-’ Alfred was pulled out of his thoughts by a strong hand gripping his chin. “You are ignoring me?” Violet eyes twinkled cruelly.

“I-I,” Alfred stuttered pathetically. “No?” He flinched when Russia’s grip tightened. Not the right answer.

Ivan tenderly brushed his thumb across America’s lips. “Selfish child,” he whispered, bringing his face closer to Alfred’s.

“Hey! I am not--”

“Shut up,” Ivan ordered, breath hot against America’s cheek. “We are always doing what you want,” he kissed along Alfred’s jaw and down his neck. “Why do I get no turn?”

Alfred tilted his head, exposing more of his neck, and Russia let him. “Be-because you buy w-weird shi-ah!” Russia bit down roughly on America’s collarbone, the thin material of his t-shirt providing little protection. Alfred shoved himself away and glared, hand holding the spot that had been bitten. “What the hell, Russia?!”

Ivan straightened and smiled sweetly. “Ah? What is wrong, ptichka?” His smile turned mocking. “Is the poor, little hero hurt?” He laughed lightly and stalked- there was surely no other word for it- towards Alfred, who soon found himself backed up against one of the bedroom walls.

“Russia,” Alfred gulped, “you’re being creepy. St-stop it.” He jerked when Russia’s palm hit the wall by his head.

“Scared, ptichka?” Russia whispered with a laugh. He ran his hand softly down America’s neck, pulling his collar aside so he could see the mark he’d left. “It is going to be a lovely bruise,” Ivan smiled and kissed America harshly.

Of course America yanked away. He wasn’t just going to sit back and let Russia brutalize his mouth. Even if part of him didn’t quite feel like fighting back like he should have, when Russia forced him back into the kiss, he was the fucking hero, and would not give in.

Alfred wasn’t sure when Russia’s tongue had invaded his mouth, probably some time after his eyes had slipped shut, or his hands had clenched in Ivan’s jacket to pull the other nation closer. It didn’t matter. The only thing that seemed to be of any importance was the feeling of that devilish tongue sliding against his own, and the nips and bites that came whenever Ivan withdrew for a quick breath of air.

“America, ptichka,” Ivan purred against his neck, “you want me, da?” Alfred nodded weakly, and just barely managed a stuttering yes in response. He could feel Ivan’s lips curl into a smile. “Then,” he went on, in a silky smooth voice as he slowly pulled away, “no sex, until you wear the corset.”



Ptichka means Little Bird.

Re: Ptichka 1/?

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Re: Ptichka 1/?

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Re: Author!Anon

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Ptichka 2a/?

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Ptichka 2b/?

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Author!Anon needs some help. e_e

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Moving to Past Part Fills

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Spain, Uses Voice to work Phone services

(Anonymous) 2010-08-15 02:01 am (UTC)(link)
Spain's english dub voice is one of the sexiest ever...so let's see him putting it to good use! Preferably a sex line, but he could also work a suicide hotline, because c'mon, who wants to die when that voice is encouraging you?

Bonus: He takes calls in the middle of world meetings

Another nation is one of his callers.
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Ring Ring [1/1]

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authornon c:

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OP Here

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authornon grins happily

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authornon agrees completely c:

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Korea/Hungary -- Someone finds out

(Anonymous) 2010-08-15 02:03 am (UTC)(link)
Alright, I want something where Hungary and Korea are in a relationship and some nation finds out and goes completely crazy and almost tells someone else but decides not too. Come a world conference and they accidentally let something slip and some people start to catch on.

1) It's Japan who finds out.
2) He finds out by walking in on them on accident.

That's pretty much it. Make it happen, anons! \o/

reCaptha: "blood stenrips" lolwut

Russia/Belarus; bondage, collaring, breast fetishism

(Anonymous) 2010-08-15 02:07 am (UTC)(link)
Russia starts to reciprocate Belarus' feelings, and he has an interesting way of showing it: he ties her up and puts a collar around her neck to "claim" her, and noticing how the collar accentuates her breasts, he becomes real interested in fondling them. Belarus, of course, is quite fond of all this attention.

Bonus: Belarus comes just by having her breasts squeezed.


(Anonymous) 2010-08-28 02:13 pm (UTC)(link)
this is artist!anon's first fill...so...um...not exactly following the request...just imagine this is russia's POV...and yes, artist!anon fails at bondage...



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Artist!anon again

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Lithuania/Poland - formal speak

(Anonymous) 2010-08-15 02:08 am (UTC)(link)
Their first time, per ce, something based on this - http://community.livejournal.com/hetalia/8224401.html
Because shy and proper Felix is beyond adorable...

Bonus if Liet calles Poland "Lenkija"

Re: Lithuania/Poland - formal speak

(Anonymous) 2011-08-02 05:34 am (UTC)(link)
Dude that would be epic!! I really wanna see that happen

Virgin!Russia Super Insecure and in a New Relationship! W/France

(Anonymous) 2010-08-15 02:13 am (UTC)(link)
I'd love to see modern day Russia and France just starting to date. Russia is very insecure and is having a hard time believing that France really wants him for more than just another conquest (why else would he suddenly want to be with big, scary, insane Russia?) France believes that Russia is just shy and doesn't realize that Russia feels this way. He also has no idea that Russia is still a virgin.

I want to see everything get worked out in the end. Nation names preferred but Human names would be fine.

Bonus 1) France finds out about Russia's insecurities from another Nation.
Bonus 2) France and Russia have both confessed their love but Russia doesn't believe France really loves him
Bonus 3) In the end France deflowers Russia (France as Seme)

Vodka scented roses~ 1/?

(Anonymous) 2010-08-29 02:03 am (UTC)(link)

“Russia isn't all that he seems, you know,” England mumbled as he placed his cup back on the saucer before resting it on the table that separated himself from the other nation. “I think you need to cut your loses with him and admit that there are some people that not even France can romance.”

France let out a long sigh, holding his wine glass up in the air. The colour was rich; beautiful even. It made his mouth water with anticipation but he would let it breathe for a moment longer.

“I don't even understand what you see in that creep. You've been on what, ten dates with the man and he won't put out. Maybe it's better that you just leave him alone,” England continued, crossing his arms with a frown. “Only you would go to this much trouble to get your end away.”

“It's not just about the sex, dearest England. Going so long without being intimate with the person I am dating, it has caused me to see them in a completely different light,” France started as he brought the glass to his nose, inhaling the aroma. “I feel something very strong for Russia. He is beautiful in his own special way.”

England regarded the blonde for a moment. He didn't believe in gossiping, that much was true but he also felt there were certain things that people should divulge with each other when dating. He pondered for a moment before he sucked his lip into his mouth and sat forward.

“I have some information for you, if you do truly see him in that light,” England began, placing his hands on his knees as he leaned even further. “Russia and I shared a very awkward moment a couple of weeks ago.”

France raised an eyebrow, immediately sitting forward himself. “Did he make love to you? I am all for a healthy sexual appetite but to give it up to you and not me...well, I just find the mere thought vulgar.”

“Shut up, idiot. I wouldn't be with a man like him.”

“You like them stuffed full of hamburgers, eh?” France remarked, taking a sip from his glass. Divine; just as he had imagined, although now he was salivating for a different reason. The mere mention of Russia was enough to get his blood pumping.

“Do you want to know or not?” England flopped back with a huff, knocking the table with his foot. The tea in the cup sloshed back and forth, spilling into the saucer and the liquid had calmed down before England verbally nudged France. “Well? Do you or don't you?”

France stared at the smaller man, unable to take his eyes off the serious expression he held. Normally, their lunches were full of bickering and meaningless banter but for England to have something interesting to say that would warrant such a stern expression? Well, he most certainly did want to hear it.

“Do tell then, especially if it involves my beloved Russia,” he purred, taking another sip of his wine.

“Word on the street is that Russia thinks you are only dating him to 'become one with him', as he so nicely put it. He fears you will toss him aside as soon as you are done, like you have with all your previous partners.” England paused, glaring at France harshly enough to imply that he was still sore about the night they spent together. “He is going keeping his legs closed for a while so those blue balls of yours? You better get some underwear to match the shade because they aren't going anywhere any time soon.”

France downed the rest of his wine. Russia had never struck him as the insecure type. Every date they had been on, Russia had been so confident. Ordering food (on one occasion, he ordered France's food for him), drinking alcohol, wearing something other than his usual attire (although the scarf had remained. The conversations had been rich, the silences comfortable.

However, now he thought about it, Russia did always move their conversations away from anything sexual. He did always find an excuse not to kiss France at the end of the date. Always blushed when France ran his foot up his leg; touched his hand on the table.

Re: Vodka scented roses~ 2/?

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Re: Vodka scented roses~ 2/?

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Author! anon~

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Canada, FINALLY noticed... a little too much

(Anonymous) 2010-08-15 02:18 am (UTC)(link)
Through any set of circumstances, Canada finds himself in the world's spotlight. At first it's nice, with all the new friends and special attention, but soon it becomes burdensome.

With everyone asking for his attention, he can't find the peaceful calmness he used to have. He's bombarded with pleas for help, radical groups, declarations of war for uncertain reasons, and other plagues of fame.

Bonus: While Canada is trying to control his newly-found attention, America finds a surprising period of calmness.

Matthew Williams vs. The World 1/?

(Anonymous) 2010-08-17 05:44 pm (UTC)(link)
It all starts when South Korea declares war on him over their Starcraft lesson.

Canada had really just been looking for a few pointers on the game since a) it seemed like fun and b) Yong wouldn’t shut up about it so he figured that he’d play along. As America. As per usual. (Which would probably explain why Yong so kept demanding why his screen name was “toquelover” when toques were definitely not invented in Korea or America for that matter.)

He shifts in his seat, staring at the screen while Korea’s comment vaguely buzzes over his headset. Meanwhile his fleet takes a beating, his Corsairs no longer whipping around and picking at Yong Soo’s bulky Dragoons.

“E-Eh?” he manages. Sometimes the word just slips out.

The game pauses on screen and Matthew can see Yong Soo's entire fleet approaching his tiny one. “I’m going to declare war on you! You know war was invent-”

Matthew shakes his head despite the fact that the Korean is across and ocean and can’t see him. “Y-Yong, you can’t just declare war on me! I’m not America, and I don’t why you’d declare war on him in the first place. I’m-”

Yong’s voice crackles over the headphones. “Canada, and I'm declaring war on you!"

Well, this was certainly an interesting turn.


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Re: Matthew Williams vs. The World 1/?

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Re: Matthew Williams vs. The World 1/?

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Germany x Fem!Austria - language kink

(Anonymous) 2010-08-15 02:19 am (UTC)(link)
I'd like something based on the above title. I'd like it really smutty.

The Smell of Vienna Coffee 1/?

(Anonymous) 2010-10-02 08:27 am (UTC)(link)
Ludwig left kisses on her stomach, warm and soft, his fingers tugging down the edge of her skirts. Roddi gasped into her palm, eyes shut and mouth pressed against her own skin to satisfy a deeper urge. His mouth, god damn that German mouth. She whored herself out so easily, married into a dozen beds over the centuries, but there was something else about the slow way Ludwig conducted himself that kept her coming back. Outside, the rain fell in harsh patterns against the window panes. Drafts cut through the drapes and dragged at her bare shoulders, the house too old and money too thin to fix them.

It was all the fault of the man who slipped her skirts down over her knees, but she couldn’t stop wanting his hands and his mouth.

“Speak to me of Vienna,” Ludwig murmured into her hip, his fingers sliding around the backs of her knees. “Tell me, Roddi.”

The smooth, rounded vowels of Viennese filled her mouth, the thicker taste of old German mixing with modern Austrian making the words hold a note of foreign song to Ludwig’s Deutsche-trained ears.

“Vienna’s the jewel of Austria. Her towers are my towers, her songs my songs,” Roddi breathed, shifting her hand to watch over the hills of her breasts Ludwig’s head dip to kiss the inside of her knees, grip unmoving on her calves. “Her streets run into dead ends and narrow alleys, but she is the best. The best. Her cafes always serve fragrant coffee, and her pastries are always just the right amount of sw-sweet.”

Ludwig’s teeth grazed her thigh, a spark of pain mixing with the lazy, melting pleasure in her stomach.

“Sweet, so sweet,” Roddi breathed, clutching at the bed sheets. “Apfelstrudel, gugelhupf, sachertorte with just the right amount of a-apricots.”

His fingers slipped past slickness, brushing against sensitive heat. Bed sheets crinkled as the wide shadow of him blocked out what little street light escaped through the shut curtains. On this street, the green gas lamps had not yet been upgraded to electric, so the glow held a ethereal, otherly cast that left everything ghostly. Roddi gasped, biting her wrist, as his mouth skirted her left breast and bit.

“Dobostorte,” she exhaled into her skin, eyes shutting as her body shook and twisted despite herself around the slow stroking of Ludwig’s hand, keeping her vowels extended and dragging, lazy like their sex. “Chocolate and butter cream, melting in your mouth.”

She knew Ludwig understood barely half of what she said, but she kept on. “Coating the inside of your teeth, soft and m-m-oist.”

His weight straddled her thighs, his teeth on her throat. There was always pain with Ludwig, but measured out in careful spoonfuls. Her hips arched up into the slip of his fingers, hooking into her warm depths, shaking as her hands fell uselessly to the bed. “And a piano forte, playing in the background. You can hear it in the streets, trickling amongst the throngs, slow classics winding with the smell of coffee.”

Her voice cracked as suddenly it was not fingers, but a hot, sharp thrust that locked the two of them together. Ludwig grunted, his breath warm against her cheek. Obligingly, she wove her arms about his neck and into the ruined mess of his hair that she’d torn apart only an hour ago after they’d stumbled through the door, escaping the cold press of a German winter and the searching eyes of America, England, and France chasing them through every hallway and into every corner.

They moved, her Viennese poetry stumbling on her tongue with the powerful feeling of Ludwig’s body moving in her own. Overwhelming, taking away her thought, and all her memory. Desperate, she clawed at his back, leaving satisfying long scores against his war-torn back.

“P-pianos, and sometimes–ah–violins, small girls with thin h-hands, or boys with, with their hair tied back,” she murmured into his ear, hooking her knees over his hips to goad him faster. “Music, Mozart and Beethoven, Brahms. Wiener Classic, Wagner and–and–“

The Smell of Vienna Coffee 2/?

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The Smell of Vienna Coffee 4/4

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Fem!Canada/Netherlands - One more Step

(Anonymous) 2010-08-15 02:26 am (UTC)(link)
Canada has become a girl (reason up to Anon) it happened a while ago, so Canada is comfortable enough with the change that she doesn’t think twice about it when she goes to the world meeting. (Or where ever needed) Unfortunately, not everybody knows. (who knows is up to Anon)

Netherlands discovers Canada’s change and suddenly becomes shy and awkward around his friend. Now Netherlands’ previous crush is growing, yet he is unable to word his feelings.

Can be Angsty (Netherlands previous history with younger female nations) or Crack
Human names are fine (Ned -Lars, Belgium -Margot)

Bonus 1: Belgium, Romano, and Spain (Or Others) Are plotting to get them together or apart, or they’re just trying to mess with Netherlands’ head.
Bonus 2: Work in History as character backstory.
Bonus 3: I love Happy endings, but make ‘em work for!

One more Step (prolouge/?)

(Anonymous) 2010-08-19 05:54 pm (UTC)(link)
Hope this is somewhat what you had in mind OP!

“Its all about preferences” Lars says lazily, drawing circles in the condensation on his beer glass. “I mean, our kind, we’re pretty liberal when it comes to that, but still…” he trails off, eyes slightly unfocused. Next to him, Matthew hmms and takes another drag off their shared joint, eyeing his friend with bemused interest. The early evening air is cool, but not cool enough to take the edge off the comfortable buzz they’ve been steadily building for the past few hours. It’s early May in Netherlands’ house, and right now, in the company of good beer, fantastic weed and his best friend, Matthew can’t think of any other place he’d want to be.

Taking one last drink from his beer, Lars puts his head down on the table and smiles up at him.

“I like you, Matt. I really, really do. And I want you to know, that if you had different…different…” he trails off, hand waving in the air lazily.

“Plumbing?” Matthew supplies, taking a swig of beer.

“Plumbing.” Lars confirms. “If you had different plumbing I’d be all over you like…” he trails off again.

Matthew snickers, “like white on rice?” he offers, “like a fat kid on a Smartie?”

Lars turns his head into the table and snorts in laughter, shoulders shaking. Blindly he reaches up and Matthew hands the joint over, their fingers tangling briefly.

“I bet you’d make a really hot chick,” Lars continues, puffing happily. “Fuck. Put you in a dress and I’d probably do you anyway, even with the-”

There’s a pause as both nations, senses pretty much obliterated by the combination of alcohol and narcotics, try to think of an appropriate term.

“…man cannon?” Matthew eventually offers. Lars promptly begins to choke on marijuana smoke.

“Right,” the Dutch nation says once he can speak again. “What d’ya think?”

Matthew contemplates his beer bottle.

“I think I really want some Smarties now.”

Lars looks at him. “Fuck. North Americans are so weird.”

Matthew’s good-natured kick sends the European nation tumbling off his chair in a flurry of yelps and helpless laughter and the conversation is immediately forgotten.

Until six months later.

Re: One more Step (prolouge/?)

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USUK - Sekirei crossover

(Anonymous) 2010-08-15 02:26 am (UTC)(link)
This anon would really love it if someone could write a fic with nations as Sekirei, perhaps with empires or stronger nations being Ashikabi. I don't think it's necessary to know the Sekirei series so well, just the concept so one can translate it to apply to nations.

I can think of Japan as the Ashikabi of Asian countries, England being a greedy Ashikabi (Sekirei = colonies)... and perhaps US being either an Ashikabi (involving him gathering the 50 states?) or Sekirei who defied England? Russia would definitely be an Ashikabi. I see France and Germany being Ashikabi as well... and Ashikabi could work under each other like in Sekirei too. Not sure about the grand scheme as Sekirei is still ongoing, but feel free to use your imagination, anons!

1. Having staple USUK, FrancexCanada, SpainxSouth Italy, GermanyxItaly, AustriaxHungaryxPrussia
2. US is a discarded number... or the self-proclaimed hero/guardian of Sekirei who rebels against their destiny as Sekirei at first, even attacking humans/Ashikabi
3. Include less popular nations (like Portugal, Netherlands, Belgium) and sideplots

Accidental magic turns Alfred into a child and is raised by Germany.

(Anonymous) 2010-08-15 02:30 am (UTC)(link)
England tries to use his magic on the Axis’ to help them win the war. Unfortunately it goes terribly wrong and accidentally turns Alfred into a child with no memories, all he knows is that he is a nation. He runs away from England who scares him and runs into Germany.

Internal struggle inside Germany to either kill one of his greatest enemies and win the war or take him in. He chooses to take him in and raise him. America almost immediately warms up completely to Germany, hamburgers!, and looks up to him like a son would to a father. In fact he looks up to him so much that he decides to be a Hitler Youth. So Alfred as a Hitler Youth is a must!

Bonus: Other countries reactions to not only his love for Germany but also Alfred becoming a Hitler Youth.

Bonus 2: PapaGermany and MamaItaly, along with Uncles Prussia and Japan.

Re: Accidental magic turns Alfred into a child and is raised by Germany.

(Anonymous) 2010-08-31 05:12 am (UTC)(link)
Ah, screw it. I’ll take this one on anyway. It’ll bug me until I do.

September 3 1939, 7:33pm

This war wasn’t going to end up like the Great War. Not if England had anything to say about it. He spent two days researching and preparing, pouring over every tome in his library. After 48 hours with no sleep, he found the perfect spell and he was closing in on Germany’s house.

He was hiding in the bushes, keeping silent and breathless. Any moment now, Germany would walk out that door.

England opened a leather-bound book. The movement of his arms caused the bush to rustle and he stopped immediately. He couldn’t hear anything but the chirping of birds, though, so he continued on. Wiping the sweat of his forehead, England turned to the pages he needed. In crisp, clean handwriting, the book said:

A reversal spell requires a pinch of faerie dust mixed with silver metal shavings, a clean white tunic, and a single unicorn hair. Sprinkle the faerie dust mixed with the metal shavings over thy tunic. With the hair in thy right hand, face thy target, then finish the spell with ‘Revertere’!

Of course, England had memorized it. He prepared everything in advance. He took a bottle of dust and silver shavings from a pocket(who says tunics can’t have pockets? Rubbish), and with the unicorn hair in his hand, he mentally prepared himself for what would happen. Germany would become a child again.


America had been trying to track down England for the past few hours. England’s boss told him that the nation was very distressed when he heard what happened to Poland. England refused to leave the house for day or two. After his Prime Minister declared war on Germany, England up and left without telling anyone.

He found England in German territory three hours ago. So far, America hadn’t approached England yet, because technically, his people wanted him to stay out of European affairs.

America was in a bush not ten feet away from England, watching the older nation mutter to himself. And then, everything went to shit.

The only warning America had was the sound of birds chirping and boots scraping against dirt. Another nation, dressed in a black uniform, jumped out of the bushes and lunged for Al’s former guardian. America sprung into action without thinking. He body-slammed the newcomer. They landed with a thud.


England snapped into action-there was rustling in the bushes right behind him, and a thud. Germany’s attacking me! The bastard. Arthur poured the mixed dust over his tunic, spun around, and crashed straight into the dirt. A wave of nausea hit him in the gut. The world around him turned into a grayish blur. The distressed voices of his people filled his mind…

’Aaaah! They’ve torpedoed us!’

‘How? They can’t do that, we’re a cruise ship!’

He heard some words being shouted in what sounded like German. You…you bastard! England stumbled around blindly, clawing the dirt, bushes, and trees. He heard the He managed to pull himself up-the angry shouting grew louder, so it must have meant he was getting closer. Still clutching the single unicorn hair, he grabbed the air, and miraculously came into contact with a strong, muscled chest. The nation was still blinded, but that didn’t matter so long as he could still speak.

“You’ll pay for this, foul kraut! REVERTERE!”

Both nations were blown straight off their feet from the power of the spell.

Notes: The attacker (it’s not Germany, but the nation does speak german) chose a very untimely (or timely, since I guess you did want to read this) moment to attack. A British cruise ship, the SS Athenia, was torpedoed by a German sub at 7:40pm on Sept. 3, 1939. The deaths of some of the passengers and crew distracted England for that one crucial minute.


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America Of The Axis! [2/?] Read first part^

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America Of The Axis! [3/?]

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Any nations/pairings - Cultural Mistranslations

(Anonymous) 2010-08-15 02:31 am (UTC)(link)
I just got my textbook for my upcoming Anthropology class, and I had a blast reading through all the stories in it about cultural misunderstandings between people from different countries.

So I'd love to see APH nations having the same kind of hilarious misunderstandings based on cultural differences, preferably when they're just starting to get to know one another. They can be any combination of nations, any pairings or just gen/friendships, etc., so long as it's funny and light-hearted.

Vignettes of two cultures. [1a/1]

(Anonymous) 2010-08-21 10:11 pm (UTC)(link)
England + America. Couple of drabbles, all 100 words each. Means I can get across some more topics too yay. \o/


i. cookie

“Hey, Arthur. Hand me a cookie.” He lolls over the back of the couch, his hand just out of reach of the small plate.

“What’s the magic word?”

“… Abracadabra. Please. Dude, just hand me it.”


He takes it, but stares at it after a moment. He turns it over.

“…This ain’t a cookie.”

“Yes it is. It’s a chocolate chip cookie.”

“Exactly, I said one of those!”

He points, of which I stare for a moment. I feel slightly dumbfounded.

“..Alfred, they’re biscuits.”

He stares again.

“.. You have some weird names for things. Just gimme a cookie.”


ii. names

We’re walking, before he trips and falls over. I let him roll around for a few moments before I sigh and fold my arms.

“Get up.”

“Will do, Artie.”


He’d been up on his knees by this time. His expression cracked up, and he was rolling around again. He was in fits of laughter.

“I-I am not a vagina!”

Alright, Alfred was being annoying now.

“..A-A what?!”

He gazed at me, before his giggles consumed him.

“..A-Alfred, that’s your bloody f-fanny!—“

He halts. That’s when his eyebrows raise.

“..Dude, that’s your ass, not your twat.”

I give up.


iii. driving

Remind me to never let him drive again.

He gets in the car. He looks a bit confused for a moment, but it’s not like that’s not normal, so I ignore it.


He grasps at the wheel, making sure as though it was actually there, and sets the key to ignition.

He pulls out, and nearly crashes the car.

Screaming, I yank the wheel to the other side of the road.




He takes the wheel again.

“Your roads are too small.”


iv. temperature

“Bloody hell Alfred, how hot is it?”

“Only about 72 degrees, why?”

I’m staring, and he doesn’t see this until he looks my way. He pulls a face.

“Hey, whatcha’ lookin’ at me like that for? That’s a pretty cool temperature, you know!”

“…If it was Seventy Two degrees Celsius, I’d be a puddle on the floor.”

“Celsius, that some sort of disease? I’m on about Fahrenheit. Geez Artie, you and your words.”

“In case you hadn’t realised, you’re the only one who uses that.”

“That’s cause I’m cool.”

“No, by sounds of it, you like things insufferably hot. Idiot.”


v. cigarette

It’s been a hard day. During a break in the meeting, I sit back and run a hand through my hair.

“..God, I could do with a fag right about now…”

It sounds like a cat suddenly died at the front of the room. Alfred’s hands raise up, his eyes wide.

“… Whoah, Arthur. TMI, my friend.”

I frown.


“Didn’t need to know about your sexual tendencies, there---“

“… I said I could do with a smoke, not a freaking blowjob. Pervert!”

His finger points accusingly.

“I’m not the one calling innocent things perverted.. things!”

I ignore him.


vi. football

“You wanna watch the game?”

“Watch what?”

“You know, football.”

He’s pulling me over to the couch before I can say yes. I’m still in a bit of shock.

“.. You... You actually watch football?...”

“Sure! It’s awesome, why not?”

He flicks the screen on, and a pitch comes into view.

My face falls.

“.. Alfred, this isn’t football.”

“Sure it is!”

“They’re not kicking a ball. They’re running with it. That’s rugby. But with Helmets.”

“Rugby? Ooooh you mean ‘soccer’. Pfft Artie, why would I watch something as boring as that?”

I facepalm, and hit him with the remote.


vii. measurements


I step on the scales, and scowl as I feel him looking over my shoulder.

“What’s that say?”

“I weigh 10 stone, Alfred. Get away.”

He stands back a little, his expression twisting into bemusement.

“.. 10… Stone?”


“… You get stones and pile them up or something? What about pounds?”

“.. 10 stone and 3 pounds, then.”

“… You … what?”

I shake my head, and pull my shirt on again.

“14 pounds to a stone. Did you get that pint of milk?”

“..Pint? No, got a gallon though.”

I glare.

“..Jesus, and you call me odd.”


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Re: Vignettes of two cultures: Bonus

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Uncertain Terms (1/1)

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Any Nation/England, consensual M/s and D/s

(Anonymous) 2010-08-15 02:32 am (UTC)(link)
England always wanted to feel that he didn't have any say, to lose some of the control in his life... So he went to a place to find an owner or top (As in Dom). But... what surprise him is that another fellow of nation is within the place... And coincidentally, the nation wanted to find a slave or sub.

What happened next is within anon's creativity! And... the beginning didn't even need to follow what this anon provided.

Bonus: England need to wear a collar everywhere to show that he is not 'free' to other nations.

The edge 1/?

(Anonymous) 2010-09-22 03:02 am (UTC)(link)

The Edge.

Self-conquest is really self-surrender. Yet before we can surrender ourselves we must become ourselves. For no one can give up what he does not possess. -- Thomas Merton


England found himself finally in, after about half an hour of waiting in line. The bar smelled of cologne, perfume and alcohol, but it wasn’t an unpleasant smell, it was rather intoxicating. He stood in the door for a moment taking his time to assimilate that he was here…finally.

The decision of coming hadn’t been taken lightly, he was, after all, a nation and he had a reputation to take care of. Besides, there were his personal issues and monsters, shame being the biggest one of them.

It burnt him, creating a hole in his heart every time he wanted to finally give up everything. His cheeks flared red as his body responded to the now common fantasies of an unknown someone taking over, leaving him raw and open.

The word insanity was the first thing to come to his mind, so he brushed off the odd tickling in his stomach as a mere fantasy, and nothing else. But, the days became longer and the weight on his shoulders heavier; sex was no longer enough, even when he trusted one of his lovers enough to take him senseless.

He wanted more, needed more, and not just in sex, but in his life.

It was clear in his mind, that it was all about control. All his life he had been forced to take it, over his colonies, his country, his people, his wars, and he was sick of it. Ready to give it all up, to throw the weight onto someone else’s shoulders, but he couldn’t do that. He was after all “England”, Conqueror of more than half of the globe, and feared Pirate ruler of the seven seas.

That’s why he turned to the lifestyle; “D/s” he liked to call it, as if to escape of the true meaning of the two letters. But in less subtle lines, and if England ever wanted to say the straight forward truth: “Dominance & Submission” and that’s exactly what he wanted, to submit to someone completely, without it interfering directly with other aspects of his life.

He had looked everywhere, the internet being his fellow companion during sleepless nights. Forums, chartrooms, dating places, online dungeons, blogs, England digested everything. There were books too.

He still remembered the day he checked out “The story of O” from the library, the look in the librarian’s face had mortified him, setting his cheeks on fire; but it had all been worth it…oh so worth it. Every time “O” was bent over and punished, or taken roughly from behind, it sent waves of heat directly to his groin. He had always been a very fast reader, but it took him over two weeks to finish the book, every word, every sentence, every paragraph, combined made his body react in ways he wasn’t sure he wanted it to. His hand reached every night to stroke his own body. And he came harder every day until he couldn’t read more, too exhausted to even glance at the book he always left open in his night table.

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I love this fill already! <3

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The edge 2/?

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Netherlands/Norway - Bunnies smut

(Anonymous) 2010-08-15 02:32 am (UTC)(link)
Netherlands has a bunny, Norway likes bunnies.
Anon wants smut. Go wild.

Maybe Norway dressed as one?

UKUS and/or NetherlandsUS, shota and mpreg

(Anonymous) 2010-08-15 02:38 am (UTC)(link)

Triggered by the birth of Alaska or Hawaii or through just random thought, one nation (anon's choice) finally does the math and realizes that America had to have been really, really, alarmingly, unacceptably young when his oldest states (then colonies) were born. He/she confronts America about it, and America either flashbacks to it or actively tells the tale.

Fluff not preferred for obvious reasons. Also, using bunny-hugging, buffalo-twirling baby!US is probably too creepy even for this request, so not THAT young. Other than that, go to town.

All is Not As it Seems - 1a

(Anonymous) 2010-08-16 04:21 am (UTC)(link)
At the time of Hawaii's statehood, Canada hadn't seen or heard from his little brother for months, and if he'd been scared before now, that was nothing on what he felt when he got a phone call from Japan, asking if he knew where America was.

Canada was family, so if something was wrong, he would have been informed. This aloofness must be voluntary--calling America's boss would give Canada no help. He tried calling America's states, but half of them mistook Canada for America over the phone and launched into furious complaints about their neighboring siblings. The others toyed with Canada, telling him their father was at such-and-such place or so-and-so's home. He must've made thirty calls before he caught onto their scheme, and he was so annoyed, he dropped the search for his brother, because if the states found it fine to play pranks on their uncle (and in the case of some of them, their other father) it wasn't likely that anything was amiss.

So after another six weeks of waiting, when Canada got a phone call from his brother one morning, demanding to know why Canada hadn't visited America's new baby, Canada was more angered than relieved.

"Where have you been?!"

"That's a no, then? Some uncle you're turning out to be!"

"You didn't answer my question. You took off without a word! I was worried about you!"

"You're not my mother." There was an abrupt pause, then a clacking noise, like America had set the phone down on a counter or tabletop. Canada could hear something going on in the background, but wasn't sure what it was. Then as quickly as he'd went away, America was back on the line. "But seriously, Canada, it's a lot easier for you to come see me than it is for me to go see you, with me having one kid under a year old and another not even two months."

A little calmer now, Canada asked, "If I visit you, will you explain what you've been up to since I've seen you last?"

"Oh, that? I went somewhere. Stayed with someone. I'm sworn to secrecy over it, so I can't tell you anything."

Canada glared at the phone, considering screaming into it at his brother. "Are you all right, at least?"

"I'm fine! Alaska's fine, Hawaii's fine--she's gotten really cute now! All the bruising has healed up, I can take her places and people fall all over themselves, complimenting her."

"Wait. Did you hold out on calling me because you were waiting for your kid to start looking cute?" He knew first-hand how bruised America's babies got, during delivery, and how it took weeks for them to heal up. Why in the world would that suddenly be an issue?

America laughed obnoxiously. "I'll see you soon!"

"I didn't say I was--"

The line went dead.


Because he was still worried, Canada gave in to America's demand, getting on the first flight he could finagle that day, and using every trick he had as a country to reach America's place. It was the next afternoon when he got into the state where America's first and main home was, and as he sat through a taxi ride, trying not to fall asleep, Canada felt about ready to kill his brother.

He was in the middle of collecting enough of the right currency to pay the driver when America attacked him from behind, hugging Canada in a mighty squeeze. "Mattie!" he shouted into Canada's ear, because the driver was still there and they didn't use real names in front of citizens.

"Please stop squishing me. I need to pay the driver."

America loosened his grip on Canada enough for Canada to hand over payment--the driver was giving them a strange look--but he didn't actually let go.

As the taxi drove off, Canada was dragged into the house.

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VampireAlfred. Nations find out about him being a vampire.

(Anonymous) 2010-08-15 02:42 am (UTC)(link)
Because of a magical experiment done by England gone awry when Alfred was a kid he was left as part vampire and true to his vampireness he needs blood to survive. Canada is the only one who knows about it and his donor in blood. And he gets it the old fashioned way, fangs + neck = lunch. If he doesn’t get blood over a period of time he starts to lose control of his vampiric instincts.

Due to so much time apart he needs some blood quickly and I have two scenes for this to happen. You can choose from either one.

1. He and Canada go to a empty room for Alfred to drink the blood and halfway through it the other nations walk in and see them.

2. Canada is running late and Alfred is starting to get worried that if he doesn’t drink blood soon he’ll faint. He sees Nation A and could hear the blood through their veins. He could see the pulse in their neck. And he loses control and bites them in front of the other nations. (I‘ll love you if Nation A is England or Russia.)

No Twilight refrences!!! Unless you are making fun of it.

(Anonymous) 2010-08-16 08:47 pm (UTC)(link)
America forced a smile on his face as Canada led him down the hall and into the meeting room. They had perhaps an five minutes before the other nations started walking in. And hopefully most would be late, after all Lunch Break had just finished, and most nations forgot exactly what that meant. But the blame for that lay with Germany and North Italy, and it was a whole nother story.

"Thanks Mattie," America whispered pressing a kiss to his twin's forehead before sinking his fangs into the other's neck.

It had been too long, almost four months since the last time they had done this. As the blood slid over his tongue and down his throat, he didn't hear the footsteps coming closer. It was drowned out but the sound of pulsating blood and heavy breathing. Canada did, pushing at his brother's shoulders. Not strongly enough, cause America just brushed it off, pausing only slightly at the choked sounds from the entrance.

"This is the last time we do this in the meeting room." America stated pulling back and licking the last droplets away from Canada's neck.

Canada nodded, slightly dizzy from bloodloss, and sat in his seat. His head resting against the cool wood of the table as he waited for his blood level to come back, eyes closed tightly. The longer it had been between feedings meant the more that America had to take from him. They had tried to bag it once, but it turned human for some reason. They had agreed that it was something to do with what made them slightly different then humans, it had to be inside them to be nation's lifeblood.

"America, what's going on?" England demanded arms crossed over his chest, eyes narrowed. Looking exactly like the time he had sent a ball through the five walls with his vast amounts of strength.

"Mattie, you ok? Did I take too much?" America asked nervously, hands clasped behind his back, ignoring them for now.

"I'm fine Al, you didn't mean too. It's just been a while." Canada replied giving him a small grin.

America grinned, sunlight glinting off his teeth, "Great, I was scared I had killed you again. It's really hard to explain that to your boss."

Canada shrugged before lifting an eyebrow and pointing to the other nations, several of which had pulled out guns, looked ready to do something drastic. America sighed, tilted his head and nodded.

"It's Iggy's fault." They stared at him, "The reason I drink blood, it's Iggy's fault. When I was small, wow I was really small. He combined several spells, ones that shouldn't have been put together in the first place. I don't remember why he was doing it, but he was. A messenger came, said that there was a letter from the King or was it the Queen? Iggy said if the royality sent a letter take it straight to him unless it had said not to. I walked in and got hit by the backlash."

"He didn't see me back out of the room as he turned to consult his books, I knocked on the door and he left later that day. Mattie was visiting, he helped me search for what happened to me, since I refused to believe in magic." Alfred stopped, eyes closed.

"We found the answer a few hours later, when Alfred started getting thrist, but water did nothing to it. It was about then he grew the fangs, he thought he was a monster. I told him that I would let him have my blood, he was my brother, I couldn't let him get hurt because of that. It's why he came after me in his revolution, we had to sneak around and he would attack humans if he didn't get blood for too long, part of the reason he set that town on fire. He hated himself for that, he hid what he had become from everyone that wasn't me. It's why you say him taking my blood just now." Canada said giving a shy smile.

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1789 - Part 1

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1789 - Part 2

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1789 - Part 3

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OP here.

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Shortest Fill Ever

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Re: Shortest Fill Ever

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Sweden/Russia - teacher/student smut

(Anonymous) 2010-08-15 02:46 am (UTC)(link)
Set sometime during the 9th century, when Scandinavians came to Rus' (and were one of the first rulers there). Young Vanya learning everything there is to know about becoming a successful nation.

Bonus 1 if midway their positions were to reverse.
Bonus 2 if it is consensual, if not Russia being a bit demanding.

Re: Sweden/Russia - teacher/student smut

(Anonymous) 2011-04-25 03:17 pm (UTC)(link)
seconded. will there be vikings? :3

Canada/Ukraine - Manada

(Anonymous) 2010-08-15 02:49 am (UTC)(link)
Canada has never successfully asked out Ukraine, but then at a world meeting he becomes Manada! (Reason up to Anon) Afterwards this turns out to be the perfect ice breaker trying to explain what happened.

Manada - http://enerjak.deviantart.com/art/APH-Manada-s-Arrival-147139506

Bonus: Even though she loves everyday Canada, Manada turns out to be a turn on for her.

Filled Here

(Anonymous) 2011-02-14 05:05 pm (UTC)(link)

male!nation/female!nation - Going into heat

(Anonymous) 2010-08-15 02:56 am (UTC)(link)
Whenever a new nation/state is to be born into the world, either the female nation parent or a female nation connected to the parent nation will go into heat. When this happens any male nation in the vicinity will go crazy with lust for them.

Prompt is for this to occur in a rather innapropriate setting (such as a world meeting), initiating a fight between the guys around them for her attention as they're reduced to following baser instincts, ending in sex for the victor.

female Nation can be canon or genderswitched.

- It's the first time either the prospective father or mother has ever experienced this
- Above scenario with Russia, America and fem!England due to the creation of Alaska
- fill goes on to follow through with the pregnancy and birth

untitled [1/?]

(Anonymous) 2010-08-26 01:14 am (UTC)(link)
Nataliya felt, well to put it in civil words, odd. Her body had felt terribly hot all day long, her normal navy blue dress had proven to be too much clothing so she had ended up removing it in favor of an old white sundress… this was still something that caused her to be far too warm but she was a decent young lady and even though she was alone in her own hoe refused to sit around in her undergarments. So she sat on her floral printed couch fanning herself. It was more than just her body feeling extremely hot too. She was unable to concentrate on anything, none of her paper work had been done and surely her boss was going to be anger if she didn’t do it. Normally she had always done her paper work and was quite good at keeping up with it, unlike so many other nations. The oddest thing about all of the things wrong with her though was the fact that she was having carnal cravings. And not just for her beloved big brother, but for any other nation… any of them would do for settle the raging hormones within her body, even weak Tolys would be a satisfactory partner.

This was something she had never felt before and frankly it was beginning to scare her. Was this something typical? She had thought about it for a while racking her mind to remember what her older sister had told when her nation began to grow more and with it her body began to mature. Nataliya remembered finding out she was going to start having a period and bleed periodically from time to time (though she had been spared a monthly cycle unlike humans it still caused her to be irritable and convinced it was horrible unfair). She was never told anything about being uncomfortably hot, and craving sex with weak nations, and well any other man at that. She was tempted to pick up the phone and call her sister; what would she say though? What was there to say? How would she phrase it? Her confusion on what was happened combined with rare modesty had made it so that she was unwilling to call her sister and inquire what exactly was going on. She couldn’t help but wonder if this sort of thing had ever happened to her sister as well.

There was the sound of her doorbell ringing through her small little house. Nataliya bit her lip and pressed her legs together. The urge to touch herself was even stronger all of a sudden and the urge to answer the door as well. She was one to ignore the ringing of her doorbell, her neighbors rarely ever spoke to her (she always assumed it was because they had a healthy fear of her), packages could be left of the step, brother never visited, and her sister always called ahead. That left only one person who ever came by her house to bother her and that was Tolys he would come and ask her for a date, she would reject but agree only in the hopes that she would be able to crush his heart or a part of his body. But even though she knew it was Tolys she wanted to answer the door, he was a male nation—he would be able to help with the unnatural cravings she was feeling.

She stood up from the couch and made her way to the front door pausing before she opened the door. Did she really want to do this? Did she really want to allow herself to grab a hold of him and let him have her just this one time. When Nataliya opened the door she was surprised, sure predictable Tolys was there, his eyes glossed over with affection like they normally where when he are to ask her out, the surprise though was that Alfred had come as well. She knew that the two were friends and that the Lithuania had worked in America at the other’s house for some years before he joined Russia’s house and before Nataliya had gone to stay with Alfred after the fall of the Soviet Union. She looked at both of them and the two watched her, the looks on their faces slowly shifting and changing to something different. It was a hungry look, a look that made her know that these two wanted her. Could they tell that she was feeling the need to fornicate?

untitled [1b/?]

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So following this fill...

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untitled [2/?]

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The conception of Wy 1/?

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The conception of Wy 2/?

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The conception of Wy 4/5

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The conception of Wy 5/5

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Work Hours

(Anonymous) 2010-08-15 02:57 am (UTC)(link)

Average work hours discussed in a world meeting. Hilarity ensues.

Bonus: S. Korea thinks that working that much is not weird at all.

2nd Bonus: America practically having a heart attack over the fact that countries like Germany and England work less than him.

Gerita: Germany Crying

(Anonymous) 2010-08-15 03:01 am (UTC)(link)
I would like Gerita where Italy finds Germany crying ; like, REALLY crying. Fluff would be appreciated :D

Fragile Hearts (1/2)

(Anonymous) 2010-08-18 11:55 pm (UTC)(link)
Germany’s house was chillingly quiet when Italy awoke, the darkness all around him. He had hopped into his friend’s bed again, because it had been a long, and very… difficult day. They’d lost the war. And had only begun to understand what else had been lost to ignorance and cruelty. The bed was cold, and Italy shivered, reaching out to lay his hand against his friend, to feel the familiar warmth, the assurance that everything would be okay—but there was no one there. Worried, he sat up and scanned the room. No Germany. And so he pulled the blankets off and slipped out onto the wooden floor, the pads of his feet barely making a sound as he stole across the room and out into the hallway.

The silence had an eerie quality to it. The kind of silence that you don’t want to break, don’t want to disturb—because you don’t know what might find you if you do. He didn’t know where Germany was, or what he might be doing, but for some reason, his tongue caught in his throat when he tried to call out. Like something was trying to keep him trapped inside the stillness. He strained his ears, listening, longing for some sign that he wasn’t alone.

It was the sound of crying that told him where his friend had gone.

“G-germany?” he asked tentatively, shocked as he turned the corner to see the other nation slumped against the wall in only his nightclothes, his head in his hands, and shoulders shaking as he sobbed. It was heavy, wet, desperate—and Italy almost felt sick to hear such a pitiful, terrible sound coming from a nation like Germany.

“I did not know… Mein Gott… I did not know…” Germany cried in between each ragged, shuddering breath. There were tears dripping from between his fingers, staining his pristine white shirt. Italy could hear him coughing on them as he wept.

“Oh, Germany…” he whispered, tears beginning to form in the corners of his own eyes at seeing his friend like this. He reached out a hand to comfort the other, and Germany’s head snapped up, eyes wide and frightening. Italy shrank back in fear.

“Do not touch me, Italy!” he said, and though his voice was deep, it shook and quavered as he forced the words out of his constricting throat. “Do not touch me…”

“It’s not your fault.” Italy tried to reassure his friend, but Germany just shook his head, fingers twisting up in his short blond hair in a way that made the Italian wince.

“Nein… Nein… It is my fault. I should have known, I should have known!!!” he cried. Now Italy was quaking as well, partially in fear for himself, because the look in Germany’s eyes was truly beginning to frighten him, and partially because he was afraid of what Germany might do to himself in such a state.

“B-but it isn’t— You could not—” he started, trying to say something to reassure the other, calm him somehow. But Italy could not even find his own voice.

“I could feel them dying, Italy! Every day. More and more of them. Just… just dying! And I wondered, I really did. But when I asked, he told me—told me not to worry about it. That he was working on it. That I just—just needed to focus on the war, on victory. And Italy, I—” he looked up at his friend, expression filled with nothing short of agonized horror.

“I listened to him!!! I believed him! And I didn’t—didn’t question it! Even though I could hear them in my mind—screaming, crying, begging for mercy!!” He was crying again, running a hand through his hair, dragging it down the side of his face, smearing the tears across his skin.

“I hope— I hope…” he began, squeezing his eyes shut, “I hope they punish me for this! Whatever it is, however long it lasts, I’ll take it, because—because, Italy, I deserve it! Anything and everything they can throw at me! It can never be enough…”

It was breaking Italy, to see him like this. He was supposed to be the strong one. The one who would comfort Italy when he cried, rescue him when he was in trouble. He was Italy’s friend. His hero. And even now, with his eyes red and swollen, wet with tears of horror and self-loathing, Italy didn’t think that they had ever looked so blue—or so beautiful.

Fragile Hearts (2/2)

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England/Russia - America is NOT involved

(Anonymous) 2010-08-15 03:02 am (UTC)(link)
Not that I don't love USUK or RusAme! I'd like to see Russia and England together where America is not a third wheel of any sort. If he is involved, it could be as a protective friend, but just that. Friends. Completely platonic. Please?

Re: England/Russia - FILLED prt1.

(Anonymous) 2010-09-05 01:22 am (UTC)(link)
Man I should learn to read prompts and comments properly before going mad and writing. So this is a fill and it is platonic America/England and is England/Russia but..... it may not be exactly what people want. Here it is anyway and feel free to throw eggs at me if I have pooped up lol.


Alfred put down the smooth receiver of the phone back into its cradle with shaking fingers and sat down uneasily into the plush cold comfort of his plump office chair. Ten minuets passed in silence and stillness with Alfred trying desperately to banish the foreboding thoughts of conspiracies and betrayal taking root and budding in his brain. However despite the comfort of the chair and his vain attempt to quell the flurry of thoughts no comfort came to him, just a deep biting unsettlement stemming from the fact that England was now of Labour Government once again.

Tapping his fingers wearily against the desk he stared intensely at the phone, innocent in its inanimateness, the ever present confident grin fading from his face replaced with one of concentration and restlessness. Whilst a Labour Government in England was not a problem within and of itself, the rumours that trailed behind such a move whispered darkly of Labour’s sympathy towards Soviet Russia and communism were. With the feeling of tension from his boss and citizens that England could be collaborating with Russia against America, and the idea that Arthur could be collaborating with Ivan against himself, gnawed harshly at Alfred’s stomach and he ran a still shaking hand through his golden hair.

The various unisons between Arthur and Ivan throughout the ages, such as the their alliances during the War of the Austrian Succession, the French revolution, Napoleonic Wars, the Greek Wars of Independence, the Anglo-Russian Entente in 1907 (or Triple Entente), and of course during World War Two (in which he was himself allied with Russia, and France, and China, and dear Arthur) were not new news to him at all. Neither were the trading or political relationships between the two countries, including the important bonds between Arthur’s beloved, however grudgingly at times, Royalty and Ivan’s Tsars.

When Alfred had confronted Arthur with these troublesome thoughts in the past Arthur had just rolled his eyes irritably and had maintained, rather viciously with flying scolding hot teapots and sharp words, that these links were just loose bonds, that he thought Ivan was a deranged and power mad, creepy purpled eyed bastard (who probably ate people), and that he wouldn’t touch him with a barge pole unless it was absolutely, univocally needed and justified. In days gone by Alfred would have been comforted by these words, but now like his office chair Arthur’s words seemed hollow. Dimly Alfred ran an unsteady hand through his golden locks and thought back to the 1920’s when Labour had first been voted in.

It had been just an average everyday day when he had come to visit Arthur and congratulate him on his new government, prepared with cake, whiskey and celebratory burgers as a present. He had strode up to the door with purpose, glee and a true hero’s attitude, which had been promptly deflated by the coy look of perverse innocence and terrible pleasure on Ivan’s face when he opened Arthur’s door, instead of Arthur himself, at Alfred’s repeated knocking.

‘Comrade Alfred! How nice to see you’, he had said, voice joyous and thick with his Russian accent, ‘I was just, what is the term…..celebrating with perhaps, no ahh…. wishing Comrade Arthur well with his new government, a socialist party. Very progressive of him, reminded me of myself. Did you want to come in?’.

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