Ru/Am, attempt kitchen sex cont.2 (wrote by Anon)Hi Anon!!! Other than loosing tremendous amount of weight, I think my bad luck is slowing going away (cuz I got my computer fixed for free! Rare for Apple) And I am very used to dealing with finals! Oil play yummmmmmm
Anonymous asked: [Good luck on your finals, and may your bad luck go away! (and stay away!)
…..I can’t write sex, ahhhh, ahhhhhh, gods this is turning out so boring-sounding. Sorry this is taking so long to finish. orz]
The crinkle of plastic as Russia tore through the bottle’s seal sent a thrilled shiver down America’s spine. It may have been an awkward position, hands bound, his body twisted around to keep his gaze on Russia while still remaining bent against the counter. Still, America found the view totally worth it.
Ru/Am, attempt kitchen sex cont. (wrote by Anon)
ANON <3<3<3 Here’s your special tag on my tumblr: awesome anon’s fic
THE END OF THIS PART. <3 I was having a rough time beginning of this week, now I felt my body and soul recovered.
[….flailing madly gghhhhk um. maybe in a couple weeks or so I will say, o great and glorious pala. …if I can screw up the nerve. Sorry this took so long. Especially since after finishing this entire thing, it’ll be the last for awhile. orz this time of year.]
So America kept stripping, swinging his hips as he hummed tunelessly and slipped out of his dress shirt. By the time the shirt fell with a muffled thump to the kitchen floor, he’d turned around so his back was to Russia instead.
Russia watched the play of muscles beneath golden skin, the way they bunched as America’s hands moved to dip beneath the tacky boxers America was so fond of. He always liked this, watching America get naked; there was an exuberance that, paired with the nudity, more than anything proved what good friends they could be- they /were/ now. (Not that he had not enjoyed it when they had been going toe-to-toe with each other in everything. That had been exciting too. But was it not nice to get along now?) For once, America had even slowed down, instead of charging to the main course as the other nation was so wont to do.
Ru/Am, attempt kitchen sex (wrote by Anon)
My writer anon, I decided that I’ll make a post for you because you deserve it! WHY ARE YOU STILL ANON I want to be able to reblog your fic post.
Disclaimer: This awesome fic is not written by me but by an awesome writer anon, who is really persistent in remaining anon so…I think I’ll draw kitchen sex to see if I can lure this anon out! ANON THE CHALLENGE IS ON
[/just… drops this into ask box and hides away forever, oh gods. Okay, no, it’ll get continued, this was just getting super long for an ask box thing.]
Russia had just begun to doze off when the phone call came.
‘Alfred F. Jones’ the display read. Of course. Who else would be completely disregarding timezones to be calling him past midnight?
“We’re still on for dinner this Saturday right?”
He had thought so, yes. “We are,” he confirmed. “You are not cancelling, are you?”
“What? No! Nothing like that. I totally didn’t call ‘cause I was nervous or anything! Haha… ha… Bye!”
“…Goodbye?” No response came back from the other end of the line.
America, Russia had decided long ago, was a fascinating but strange, strange man.
America barely let Russia through the door before he pounced, dragging the larger nation toward the kitchen by the shoulders and all the while looking straight into Russia’s eyes.
It was serious business face time. Because he was a hero, and heroes didn’t chicken out. Even when propositioning their lovers. /Especially/ when propositioning their lovers.
He was gonna be so smooth.
“Are you wanting something?” Russia asked, when they stopped moving, and oh yeah, his thoughts had gotten sidetracked from the mission at hand.
That was a really nice lead-in line though. Like this was meant to happen. “Yeah, I want something. You. Me. Kitchen sex. Now.”
Anonymous asked: ((Ahhhh sorry I poofed for so long. >: Um, it's not much, but. (...there will be sex next time? Maybe? I hope?) orz))
After practicing the words in front of the mirror for a good dozen minutes or so, America finally felt confident enough to actually call up Russia and /say it/. As the phone rang, he kind of wished he hadn't switched out all his old phones for cordless ones; all of a sudden, he wanted something for his hands to fiddle with.
"Hey, Russia, how'd ya like to help me break in my new bottle of oil, if you know what I mean?"
Even through the phone line, Russia's confusion was evident. "Sorry, I do not understand what you mean."
"You know, like- Uhhhh..."
The vague motions he was making with his hands, being on the wrong side of the telephone line, were entirely unhelpful.
"Never mind!" he squeaked out, and then nearly broke the phone hanging up.
"All I want is kitchen sex!" America wailed, to a rather bemused France, after the fourth failed attempt in the past two weeks.
It took a remarkable amount of alcohol to even make America tipsy, a surprising fact given the way the young nation's typical drinking habits. But America was tipsy now, and France was not above getting a friendly grope in (considered it payment, really) as he prepared to do what he'd come for.
That was, dispense advice on the fine and delicate arts of seduction.
"Come," France said, patting his leg. It was all he could do to keep his eyes in his sockets when America actually climbed into his lap; that had /never/ worked before. Half-expecting England to pop out of the woodworks to strangle him, France cleared his throat and continued on. "Now tell Big Brother France what you've done so far."
So America told him. France resisted the urge to weep.
"Maybe you are... cursed in the kitchen?" France cautiously put forth.
America pouted. "It's not like I'm /England/ or anything."
"No, just his former colony," muttered France, not quite loud enough for America to hear. He then suggested, much more audibly, "Perhaps the straightforward approach would be best, non?"
America balked. "You mean like... plain /asking/ him?"
"Good communication makes healthy relationships!"
"But it's-" America ducked his head down, glanced suspiciously around. His next word came out barely above a whisper. "-/sex/."
How darling, France thought. How /silly/. "Do try. You might just be surprised."
"Okay," America said, leaping out of France's lap. "Yeah, alright. I can do this!" A pause. "Aren'tcha gonna leave or something?"
France beamed and waved. "Oh, don't mind me."
HELLO my writer!Anon (waves excitedly)
» break in my new bottle of oil
This is so cute omg I love how Francis is lol and starting to imagine inappropriate France with drunken America in his lap, that’s just too adorable www (Good that neither Russia or England was around…but I suspect if Russia was there also, maybe America will get his kitchen sex right there and then XDDD)
Anonymous asked: ((There is a Sherlock ref? owo I did not intend it! Though possibly it moseyed its own way in, since I am sort of a fan? |D; (Not enough to realise the ref though. orz) ....I want to see this pala dance. owo! ....also I am sorry. ;A; I wrote this and then went to check on the notes you'd put for the art this is based on again and realised too late I totally changed the ending. orz orz orz))
Once upon a time, they say there was a king who was in love with a mad man.
The king was not always king though, and long before that, the mad man was not always mad. In fact, he had been a hero and well-liked by the people, and he was always trying to help them where he could. The king who was not yet a king liked him very much too, and because they lived across the street from each other, he got to know the hero very well.
But sometimes, there was no easy way to solve a problem and make everyone happy. And sometimes, the hero found he wasn't strong enough.
This had been happening more often, and more often, and people were getting mad at the hero for not solving all their problems. And the hero began to think, "Maybe if I had more power, I could be a better hero. Maybe I should be the king."
Now you know any king of ours needs to be willing to sacrifice his life for the power of the throne. At the time, there had been no king on the throne, and the hero thought maybe it was up to him to do the job. A king's job was to help the people after all, just like a hero! But entering the contract of kingship meant a shortened lifespan, and less time spent helping people. Or so the hero lamented to the king who was not yet king.
The not yet king had never had any desire to rule. But he did very much want to make the hero happy, so he said, "If I am king, maybe you can be my advisor?"
That made the hero very happy indeed, for the hero told the not yet king, "That'd be awesome! Thanks, man, I love ya!" It was the first time the hero had said that to him.
So the next week, the not yet king went to the council and declared he would be the next king.
The people were overjoyed, for it had been a while since they had a king, yes? And even though the hero had not been living up to expectations lately, he was still a hero after all.
The difficulties the hero had had saving the day carried over now he was official advisor to the king though. At first, money was enough to smooth away the bumps, but then the money began to run out. How convenient then that the neighboring kingdom had been having so much trouble lately!
"My darling king, let's go save them." And of course, they deserved a tribute for their trouble.
This repeated several times, but the more people there were, the harder it was to please everyone. Suddenly there were so terribly many enemies of the crown, and it was all the king could do to strike them all down.
But ah, the king still loves- loved the hero very much.
Still, the king had been aging rapidly, the more he used his power. He did not mind terribly so, but he did not want to leave the hero all alone the way things had been before. The hero was clever though, and asked, "What if you use the power to break the sacrifice?"
'Surely that had been tried before?' the king thought. Through secret channels he learned it was indeed possible, but a lengthier process than merely wishing for it. But it was a solution! So they began working at it.
Unfortunately, secrets had a way of becoming not secret, and when it got out to the hero's enemies what the hero and the king were planning, the rebels rallied behind a great mage to stop the two.
There had only been one step left in the process, but the mage stepped in then with all his power. With barely a change in expression, he broke the king contract on the king, and would have erased the hero if the no-longer-king had not... not begged for the here's life.
So the mage nodded, and changed the hero instead.
And then he left the no-longer-king with the hero-that-was-not-a-hero in the throne room for judgment by the people.
"That wasn't a very happy story," Alfred said, when Ivan finished speaking. "/And/ you didn't say what happened to the hero. The hero was stupid anyway! How come he couldn't see he was hurtin' people, huh? The king, too! I bet I coulda better."
Ivan looked at the young boy perched at the edge of his bed, who had come to visit an old and dying man, and who was a ray of sunshine in an otherwise greying world. So very innocent still, and idealistic.
'I know what it's like to be alone, too! We can be alone together. Oh, but then I guess we're not alone any more, huh?' He recalled the words from a long time ago, a happy, golden time before the idea of heroes and the rest of the world invaded their little bubble.
Everyone loved a hero. Except the bad guys. And there were so many of those.
"Sometimes the needs of the few outweigh the needs of the many, I suppose," Ivan answered.
All he really wanted was their own little world again, that had just the two of them. But he wasn't king any longer.
YOU WROTE IT.
I LOVE YOU.
I was too shock to do my signature pala dance. I’ll make that up to you after I recover from my joy.
WHY ARE YOU STILL ANON
GUYS I HAVE THE COOLEST ANON
Anonymous asked: ((/blushblush. Awawa, palakiss. *///* aalsjdkflj I'm sorry this took so long. Also that the flirting kind of. fails? >: but ah, I am glad that ending in the other thing didn't make you go, "...what is this crazy person on." ahaha... okay, okay.))
Alfred supposed there were only so many places to set up a sniper post at this function, and that the target must have pissed off more people than just his client, 'cause when he climbed up to the little alcove he'd marked out in previous surveillance runs, someone was already there.
Someone with a /very/ nice gun, and even nicer reflexes, given the barrel of said very nice gun was being pointed right at his face. His own handgun settled by the stranger's head a breath slower.
"So is that a gun in your hand, or are you just happy to see me?" he couldn't help but ask.
Yao often complained that he never thought before he spoke, and that he could never tell what was and wasn't appropriate for a situation. Well, all right, so /sometimes/ he maybe misread the atmosphere and ended up getting shot at, but it wasn't like it was obvious in the first place! Especially the situation with the Berwald dude. He'd sure /looked/ like he was threatening the little dude... How was he supposed to know they were part of the same guild!?
It was probably a good thing the boss man had decided Yao hadn't been needed to act coordinator this time around. 'Cause the guy pointing the gun at him was kind of hot, and obviously had good taste in weaponry, and it'd be easier getting to know the fella if Yao wasn't nagging him in one ear. (It'd been so much more fun when Matthew had been his coordinator instead, but for some reason, the boss man thought Matthew couldn't keep him in line well enough. What a funny guy.)
He was pretty confident this dude wasn't about to start shooting at him, though. For one, there'd probably have been bullets flying already (he was too awesome to not have ducked the hypothetical first shot); for another, he was /sure/ that was thinly-veiled interest in the man's eyes.
"It is a gun in my hand," the other man finally replied, but the gun did get lowered. Alfred cheered up inordinately when a smile followed after.
"Well I gotta say I'm happy to see /you/. Hi. I'm Alfred." Was it against assassin code to share names? Whatever, the guy could look him up any time.
"You can call me Russia. Maybe I will let you earn my name, yes?"
Oh yeah. He could totally do that. He was even here on a job!
Speaking of. "Nice view you got there," he said, motioning to the rifle already set up and aimed toward the podium. "But y'know, I'm kinda afraid I can't let you take my mark. Unless you're not after Mister Drake."
"Ah, I am afraid I am. And that I will be the one taking his head."
Well, obviously there was only one answer to that. Alfred unslung his own rifle from his back and settled next to Russia's tripod. "Hope you don't miss then," he said, with a wink and a grin.
The sudden spark of challenge in Russia's eyes was probably the hottest thing Alfred had seen.
Is that Sherlock reference I see there!!!! ANON I am thrill to see you in my ask box *v* You are conditioning me to do little dance everytime when I see there’s something in my ask though.
I LOVE THIS. <3 I think the amount of flirting to good because I find them competing very hot too. And I always have a thing for them using country names as code names <3
Anonymous asked: ((Attempt at writing the failed kitchen seduction, except I am no good at smut, sorry. .__.;;; Probably take 2 of it coming later, if assassin thing doesn't cooperate first?))
They said the way to a man's heart was through his stomach. America had sort of figured throughout the years that there must have been some grain (heh, grain) of truth for the saying to stick around so long; anyway, he knew /he'd/ feel pretty wooed if someone took the time to make him a burger or dozen. Besides, food meant cooking, which meant the opportunity for wearing the apron he'd specially bought. As soon as he'd laid eyes on it, he'd known not another day could go by without it in his possession.
'All American Feast,' it read in bold font, and then in smaller letters underneath, 'Americans Do It Best.'
Russia should have been arriving any time now, and- yes! A point to the hero, there Russia came knocking now.
"Door's unlocked, just let yourself in," he called out, hoping with the thin walls of the apartment that Russia would hear. "Go ahead and come to the kitchen, the food's almost done." His muscles were aquiver with anticipation, his body tense as he waited for Russia's reaction--
"You are on fire."
"Damn right I am."
"Ah. Maybe is American cooking ritual then, like no clothes to prevent body overheating."
"Yup! Wait-- ...oh /fuck/."
ANONNNNNN I’ll give you a kiss first *chu* doesn’t matter if you want it or not.
APRON. OK. This will be my next warm up practice topic—A naked apron America ON FIRE.
The ending just rocks so much that I almost killed my computer by spilling tea…XD
Anonymous asked: [saves prompts to draft post for easy access] |3 I am willing to write just about anything, so no worries. Anyway, you were the one who got me interested in RusAme and AmeCan, haha. Umu, I hope what comes out matches what you had in mind.
Ohhhhhh ANONNNNNNNN <3
Thank you thank you thank you! TTvTT
Anonymous asked: [Never revealing myself nuuu. >: (so embarrassing, and it's more fun being a nonnymouse! >: ....also, England, I am sorry? Also, sorry for even less RusAme this time. :x)]
England's first thought when the trailer ended was, 'How in the bloody seven hells had the frog gotten his hands on this footage?' His next, recalling America's rather prudish nature, as well as the brief camera shot of Russia, had been, 'And why have I not heard cries for his blood yet?'
Not that England actively kept an ear out for such things. Of course not. That wouldn't be proper. Nor did he go /searching/ for such things as voyeuristic tapes of Russia and America making like the beast with two backs. It was all France, as one might expect.
H-He'd just watched until the end of the video so he could properly repudiate the thing! One had to know what a thing was to judge it, after all. In fact, it was why he was placing the order for the rest of it right now...
England ignored that his pants were slightly damp from pre-cum.
The video began again, loomed out enough to catch America's entire body as the man stripped down, his clothes scattered haphazardly across the hotel bathroom. England recognised it as the one from their last meeting, which begged a lot of questions England didn't have the brain to process at the moment. Presumably letting the water heat up a tad, America lounged on the sink counter instead, once in awhile glancing outside the open doorway and grinning, or idly swinging his legs.
Two minutes, forty two seconds. "Come /on/, I'm getting in without'cha!" America called, before proceeding to do just that. The camera switched briefly to show Russia, methodically undressing and folding his clothes, before swinging back to America. It was about to reach where the teaser had ended, with America turning full toward the spray of the water, just beginning to bare his neck to the warmth--
'The following content is not available in your country.'
England stared, the hand that had somehow ended up beneath his waistband stilling. The words remained the same. He stared some more. Still, the words did not change.
Elsewhere, France had the sudden, terribly strong urge to hide, very, very deeply.
Yeah I hate those warning message!!! And youtube tries to be cute by using :/ emocon but still cannot ease my rage.
Where can I buy DVD of these? Or is there a Blu-ray version?
Anon….ok, as long as you keep giving me awesome fic-ask, I won’t force you to deanon.
Can I make request?
Anonymous asked: There is a moment when all that fills the room is Alfred's shallow pants. His hair, just recently long enough to tie back, sticks to his neck with the sweat of his exertions; when he finally manages enough oxygen to speak, he breathes out, "Mattie, I can't take any more."
'This was your idea,' Matthew wants to mutter, but what comes out instead is, "Just a little more, Al, come on." Matthew's straining a bit himself. It's not like this entire thing is easy for him either. "Deep breath, yeah... there!"
The corset, Matthew has to admit, does look pretty ace now that it's firmly affixed and he's no longer trying to tug it tighter against Alfred's resisting body. Then again, Alfred has always seemed able to pull any outfit off, if only by sheer confidence alone. It's something that has driven their lord and protector Sir Kirkland into tizzies time and again, for the man has Ideas of what makes appropriate wear and what doesn't.
What Alfred has planned for the evening's masquerade ball definitely falls under 'Inappropriate.'
("That's 'cause Art's a pervert," Alfred had said, the one time Matthew had pointed the fact out.
"/Lord Arthur/," Matthew'd corrected. "And aren't you trying to seduce Ambassador Braginsky with it?"
"Yup! Super appropriate, right?"
A sigh. "...I don't think we're talking about the same thing any more.")
Able to move around again, Alfred begins tearing the room apart. Matthew doesn't even try to stop Alfred from making a mess any more, but follows sedately in Alfred's wake instead, having learned his lesson well the one time he'd ever tried. "What are you looking for?"
"The mask I ordered earlier this month."
Possibly because he has a knack for finding things, or more likely because he - unlike Alfred - isn't making the mess worse, Matthew is the one who discovers the mask buried between several papers. "And this would be it, eh?"
"Yes!" Alfred cheers. "You're the best."
Looking into the mirror, Alfred ties back his hair before holding the mask up. It's a jaunty nod of approval he gives to his reflection before turning to Matthew with cocked hip and a grin, mask still against his face.
"You were wantin' to take on Braginsky with me, right? Well hurry up and get ready, and let's get this party started."
((Thank you for drawing so many shiny, inspirational things.))
Even though inappropriate but then still sounds like you enjoy it, Alfred?
ANON. Why are you still an ANON. TIME TO SHOW YOURSELF!!!
Thank you for solidify my drawing into something amazing.