Topic: Sweden and Finland meet after above's independence. Sweden has realized Finland's strenght (against Russia), and is now afraid of Finland. Even ready for seme!Tino. Bonus if he still wants to bottom.
Answer – “Visitation”:
Sweden is lying on his sofa when the door opens, letting in a gust of cold air. He tenses, his mind running through the list of people who both have a key and wouldn't even knock before entering. Comes up with zero. He still doesn't open his eyes, even as boots hit the floorboards, making them creak softly. The steps are sure but uneven, as thought the person is favoring one leg."Sweden, are you really sleeping?"Ah, it's Finland. Sweden opens his eyes at last and sits up reluctantly. Finland is leaning against the wall opposite him. Finland's winter jacket is only half on, the left sleeve hanging empty, and Sweden is horrified for a moment before he realizes the arm is simply splinted against Finland's chest. He's also standing a bit crookedly, as if being careful of some hidden wound, but he's still smiling. Victoriously, not like someone who has just made a high priced peace. "D'ya want something?" Finland shakes his head and his smile gentles."Not really, just wanted to see you." He steps closer, sits on the edge of the sofa, eyes taking in the room, perhaps looking for changes since he was there last. It's been a while. Sweden raises a hand without thinking, and Finland's head snaps around, not in fear as it might have once, but in alertness. For a second, his eyes are sharp and cold, and then his expression melts and he smiles in embarrassment. "Sorry, just...sudden movements, you know how it is."Sweden is about to lower his hand, but Finland takes hold of it, holds it to his face and closes his eyes. He looks like he's memorizing the feeling. "Long time ago." Sweden mumbles, and Finland laughs lowly. When his eyes open again, Sweden is not sure if the look he is given is rueful or mocking. "Is that your excuse...oh, never mind." An uneasy silence reigns for a moment, while Sweden tries to think of a way to break it. Too bad he was never any good with words. In the end it's Finland who sighs and shrugs, releasing Sweden's hand."Thanks for looking after the children, anyway. And those people of yours who came. I appreciate it, really." But he doesn't look at Sweden as he says it, eyes trained to somewhere else, to something in the distance Sweden can't see. "Finland..." And he hesitates when Finland gives him his full attention again, because this is not the person who once lived with him, and yet...they are so similar he keeps forgetting. "Be careful." Sweden says finally."Of what?" Finland says flatly. When Sweden doesn't say anything, he rises up, face coloring in anger."Is this about Germany again? Look, I understand you don't like what's going on with Norway and Denmark, but right now...well, Germany's an old friend, and it's no time to shun people who've proven themselves trustworthy." Unlike you. Sweden hears, and he almost flinches, even thought it's not fair."Russia ain't gonna like it." He says instead, and Finland snorts rudely."Well, I'm not afraid of him. Last time I wasn't prepared, but next time...well, he'd better not try again." Said with his head held high, so proud and brash, and Sweden wonders who he should really be worried for."Standing with your friend, eh?""I told you it's not like...look, I didn't come here to fight about this. I..."Suddenly his face is reddening again, but not from anger this time. Sweden still doesn't quite get it, not until Finland is sitting next to him again, and their mouths are crushed together.
Oh, so after all this time it'll happen like this, he thinks. Some part of him welcomes it, ready to take anything he can get. When Finland finally pulls back, they're both breathing hard. His eyes have gone darker, and there's a high flush on his pale cheeks. "Bed?" He asks, for once as concise as Sweden himself, and they stumble to the bedroom with silent agreement, letting action take the place of words. "No hurry." Sweden whispers as Finland is cursing the difficulty of taking his shirt off around the splinted arm, and Finland laughs just a bit desperately."Shut up. Just help me with this god damn..." Sweden decides to do so before he gets more creative with the curses or hurts himself. As he does so he catalogues Finland's injuries. With the look of them..."Sure this's ok?" Sweden asks, eyeing the heavy bandages all over Finland's left side. "No time like today." Finland says, his mouth pulling into an almost feverish grin, somehow unsettling in the nearly dark room. So Sweden kisses him, to not have to look at it, thought feeling Finland grow pliant in his arms and moan into his mouth is nice as well. "Bed. Really." Finland growls eventually and pushes Sweden to it, lowering himself after him rather more carefully. There's nothing careful in the way he crawls over to him though, grinning in a way that has just a bit of a hungry wolf in it. And, as Sweden thinks hazily a bit later, perhaps he was hungry. But then Finland bites at a particularly sensitive area again, and he's thoroughly distracted from that train of thought, or from any thoughts. "--Hey, come back here for a bit." Finland sounds just a bit annoyed, and Sweden grunts at him, something he hopes resembles a question. "I said, do you have anything...um, slippery here?" Sweden blinks at him, and then makes a vague gesture towards the cabinet on one side of the bed. After some noisy scrummaging Finland returns with the spoils of his hunt. "Is it okay?" Sweden asks, and Finland hums at him, busy figuring out how to open the jar of ointment. "What genius of yours made this contraption anyway..." He grumbles, and Sweden has to shake his head. "Give." His own hands are feeling a bit shaky as well, but knowing the mechanism helps. The moment the lid pops open, Finland reaches for the jar, but then he hesitates. Licks his already reddened lips, and Sweden shudders. He's so distracted by the wave of arousal that when Finland speaks it takes him a moment to understand."You want to prepare me or shall I?" He looks only a little embarrassed about it, like he's done this often before and...right, he has, hasn't he. But wait."I thought...ya mean ya wanted me to...take you?" Is he actually protesting this? But somehow, having readied himself to surrender to Finland, the thought...had become appealing, somehow.Finlans's mouth opens and then he closes it again with a snap. "I always imagined it like that," he says with a small voice, and kneeling there on the bed, with his eyes widened in surprise, he looks almost like he did back when they lived together. But then he lowers his eyes, and laughs, pulling a hand through his hair.And when he peers at Sweden from under his fringe again, his expression has turned mischievious."Well, if that's what you want...fine with me."
He pushes Sweden down, and rubbs against him in a way that quite effectively reminds his body it had recently been on the edge of climax already. When Finland stops again, Sweden can't quite stop his moan.When he opens his eyes, Finland is looking at him, his eyes gleaming in the nearly dark room."You sound good like this." Finland whispers, almost reverently, and then his hand closes around Sweden's erection, squeezing hard. "But don't you dare come before I say so."If he'd been cabable of speech Sweden would have told him it was impossible, but the words scattered when Finland made use of the ointment he'd fetched earlier. "You've done this before, right?" Finland asks, curiously."'es!" It's just been a while.Finland bends to kiss him, slow and sweet and wet, and Sweden hardly notices as he adds another finger and then a third to streching him. The slight ache is almost a relief, distracting him from the need to come right at that moment. Almost enough."G't'n with it," he growls at last, and Finland laughs breathlessly as he bends Sweden's legs forward. "Fine, fine...oh, god, you're still so tight." Sweden has to close his eyes, but he can still see that ecstatic look on Finland's face, and there is just no way he'll last long, whether it burns or not.Then again, he realizes as Finland's hips snap forward and he moans almost desperately, he's not alone in that. Thank god."You okay?" Finland asks, his voice a bit shaky. Sweden doesn't bother answering, just spreads his legs a bit more, and after that it's all movement and feeling, until Finland is bending close to him and whispering: "Touch yourself, I want to see you come now." And he does, and that's it. He's only half aware of his body arching up from the force of his release, hearing only the pound of his own blood and Finland gasping, slamming in once or twice more before he goes still, jerking his hips in small movements. Sweden opens his eyes and takes the other in, messy, sweaty hair, biting his lip almost hard enough to draw blood. Didn't need to do that, did he? What's there to hide at this point?Sweden manages to raise one of his hands, and brushes his thumb over Finland's lower lip. Finland moves his hips forward one more time, shuddering as if it's getting too much, and then pulls back and slumps next to Sweden."Ow." He mumbles, and it's only then that Sweden remembers he's still wounded. Finland's bandages are stained with red now, but he won't hear about either of them moving more than it takes to clean up a little.Later, after they've found a way to curl up together on the bed without aggravating any of Finland's injuries further, Finland presses his head under Sweden's jaw and burrows there. "'s good?" Sweden asks, because he'd heard somewhere that was the thing to do in such situations. Finland's mouth quirks into a smile, thought he doesn't open his eyes."Like I always dreamed of..." he mumbles sleepily, grinning.Sweden snorts at such insolence, but sleep is already calling him just as strongly.
When he wakes up, it's into the greyish light of a winter morning. The bed feels empty, and when he opens his eyes, Finland is sitting on the edge of it, fully clothed. In his uniform, even. His face seems somehow equally clothed, calm and resolute and a bit cold. "G'ing s' soon?" Sweden mumbles, his voice scratchy from sleep. "Yeah, have lot's to do." He's leaving again, and something makes Sweden reach out, take hold of that one good hand."Wait." He says, pronouncing it carefully."Yes?" Still the same closed off expression. "Come live with me." That garners a reaction. Finland looks surprised, and then he laughs uneasily. "Don't joke like th...""I Mean it." His expression must be convincing, because the smile falls away, replaced by...what is that expression? Regret? And then Finland is pulling away, shaking his head with his eyes shadowed."Well, we can always ask what Russia and Germany think of that but..." Sweden could have said:"On this you'll let them tell you what to do?" He could have, if he hadn't known the answer already. He sighs and closes his eyes, defeated, not really wanting to see Finland's back disappear from his life once again, not knowing if he'll ever be back.The footsteps walk away from him, and then they stop, and suddenly there are fingers carding hesitantly through is hair, and warm breath on his face."Don't worry." Finland whispers. "I'll come back when it's all done. I..." Sweden opens his eyes, and looks at the hopeful face above him. He presses a finger over Finland's lips and shakes his head. Don't promise, you don't know that, not really.He can't convince Finland now, he knows, but...perhaps there'll be another chance for them yet, in some more peaceful time. If it's meant to be.
Topic:Russia/Estonia/Latvia. Lithuania is currently gone, outsourcing at America's house, so while he's gone, Russia turns to the younger Baltic brothers.
(Bonus if Lithuania returns and finds his brothers completely exhausted but doesn't know why.) Smut is a must (please, writer!anon-san?) and the use of real names is preferred but not necessary~ Sorry if that was just really specific, but please make it work, anon-san!
Answer:
Eduard was leaning his head back against the wall, the coolness a terribly small bit of comfort. However small the comfort, he tried his best to focus on it, instead of the revolting things happening to his little brother right next to him. He couldn't see them properly without his glasses, which he counted as a blessing, but he could still hear them perfectly fine, and it disgusted him.
He couldn't ignore it anymore though when his arm was suddenly seized again and he was pulled down, next to Raivis. Apparently one of them wasn't enough for the Russian. He needed to have both of them within easy reach.
Raivis took a deep breath when Ivan got up off the top of him and shifted himself over his brother. He shook so violently when the Russian was over him that he could barely manage to breathe, though he didn't notice until now.
Ivan stroked his hands up the Estonian's sides, caressing him deceptively gently, like a lover. He caressed up and onto his chest and tweaked his nipples in his fingers as he kissed him, mouth just as rough as ever. Eduard shuddered and allowed it to happen, just glad he was leaving his brother alone, for now. If there was one thing they had to be thankful for, it was that, however menacing, there was only one of Ivan. He could only do these things to one of them at once. Eduard let out a soft, fake moan of pleasure, hoping to entice the Russian to stay with him, and not switch over to Raivis again.
Apparently, it was going to work, at least for now. He saw Ivan's eyes light up in excitement, and the Russian brought a hand down and, sliding it under Eduard's thigh, lifted his leg in the air. The Estonian felt terrible, all exposed like this.
When Ivan brought a hand to his mouth and slipped two fingers inside, he knew he was to wet them. He did so quite willingly. If he didn't, the Russian had no qualms with going without any lubricant at all, and that hurt like hell. It was much better to just agree to do this, however much he really hated what was coming next.
When the Russian was satisfied with Eduard's job of wetting his fingers, he pulled them out of his mouth and brought them lower, to his opening. He pressed them both inside, not giving the Estonian a chance to get used to one first. He choked off what he was sure was going to be a loud groan of pain. He was no virgin, but spit wasn't the best of lubricants, and the Russian was certainly not the gentlest of lovers. Ivan pressed his fingers all the way in swiftly, and Eduard had to clench his eyes shut and bite his lip until it bled even more to hold back cries of pain, though some fuzzy part of his mind told him it probably wouldn't matter; the Russian would probably think they were cries of pleasure, anyway.
He couldn't keep the whimpers and groans of pain back, however, when Ivan began scissoring his fingers inside of him, stretching his opening painfully. Ivan frowned slightly.
"That doesn't hurt, does it, Eduard? If you would like, I can hurry up and get on with it. You would prefer that, da?" asked Ivan in an innocent voice.
Eduard shook his head swiftly.
"N-No, sir..." he choked out. "Th-this...this is fine...sir..."
Ivan's bright smile returned.
"That is good, little Eduard...it will be hurting more if I don't do this, you know that, right?"
Eduard nodded, though he couldn't manage to speak anymore. His nod appeared to satisfy the Russian, for he continued to scissor his fingers inside of the boy, and, though he hated it, Eduard could feel himself loosening slightly. He knew with a sick certainty that Ivan felt this too, and he wouldn't wait much longer before entering him. Eduard nearly wanted to groan in pain at the thought.
Raivis watched in sickening fascination as his brother was prepared. He had a horribly selfish thought for a second, one that he quickly squashed, but it didn't die as easily as he wished it would. He...he was actually a bit glad he wasn't going first. It was terrible, horrible, he hated himself just for thinking it, even for a second. But...it hurt so badly when Ivan raped you...he was so big, bigger than Raivis could handle. But, of course, handle it he did. With an overwhelming amount of pain, yes, but he'd taken it before and would probably take it again, probably tonight, because the Latvian held no illusions that Ivan would just go on and screw Eduard and then be done. No, if that was how it was, he wouldn't have bothered undressing Raivis. If the Latvian boy was just intended to be a spectator, Ivan would have left him alone after the beating was done.
Eduard breathed a sigh of relief when Ivan's fingers were removed. The Russian had apparently decided Eduard had been sufficiently prepared, and was now in the process of undoing his own pants. He didn't like to fully undress, and this wasn't unusual for him, to remain pretty much fully clothed. He did, however, like the Baltics to be naked, and he never left them dressed in the least during these sessions.
When Ivan had his erection freed from his pants, which were only slightly pushed down on his hips, he adjusted himself over the Estonian, who was looked up at him with wide, fearful eyes. He pressed his length into Eduard, far more swiftly than a normal lover would. Eduard couldn't keep his cries of pain silent this time. It felt like he was being torn apart. His opening burned. He could feel tears streaming down his face, and there was nothing he could do about it. He barely even noticed them. His mind was flooded with every nerve in the area screaming in agony.
Raivis couldn't stand to hear his brother's screams of pain again. Somehow, this was even worse than when Eduard had been beaten. He sat up and curled into a ball, knees to his chest and arms around them. He buried his head in his arms and tried his best to think about something else, anything else. But he couldn't. All he could think of was his brother, and what terrible thing was happening to him right now...
Raivis didn't even realize he'd begun crying too.
Eduard probably would have noticed, had he not been so preoccupied at the moment. Ivan pressed his entire length into the Estonian boy, then pulled out, nearly all the way, then pressed forcefully back in, causing a fresh wave of tears from Eduard. He leaned in and kissed away a few of the tears away, the liquid burning hot against his lips.
Raivis could hear his brother's pained sobs over his own silent tears, and they streamed down faster than ever.
Neither Eduard nor Ivan took any notice of the quietly sobbing Latvian. Eduard was too engrossed in pain, and Ivan was too distracted by pleasure. Raivis felt his stomach give a sickened lurch as the Russian let out a low, satisfied moan. That he would be getting such pleasure while said pleasure caused Eduard such pain seemed somehow fundamentally wrong, as though Ivan were breaking some sort of universal law. It shook him to the core in a way that being raped himself never had.
Ivan continued to thrust his length in and out of Eduard, and, after a long while, the boy's sobs slowed; his pained mewls quieted. Ivan had been expecting this, and was glad it had finally happened. The Estonian's noises were really starting to get on his nerves. Of course it was going to hurt; did he have to make such a big deal out of it? They'd played this game before, and Eduard made the same sorts of noises each time. Ivan, who truly was rather childlike in his thoughts and ideas, didn't understand this. Even Toris had stopped sounding like this after enough times...of course, he had told him he really didn't like those sorts of noises, so that may have had an effect on that...Toris really was a good boy, sometimes...
Eduard brought a hand up and wiped clumsily at his eyes. The agony was receding bit by bit as his body finally grew accustomed to the Russian's size, and he was able to stop crying enough to take some much needed deep breaths. He had been severely oxygen-deprived during the last, oh...he didn't even know. It felt like forever, though the rational, scientific part of his mind knew it couldn't have been more than...ten? Fifteen minutes?
Fifteen minutes...fifteen minutes of sheer agony...
He heaved a deep sigh, grateful for the ability to do so now, and Ivan looked down at him quizzically. The dazed, myopic look on the Estonian's face led him to believe he was finally starting to enjoy this, as he should, and Ivan took hold of Eduard's legs and lifted them a bit, shifting the boy's entrance for a better angle of penetration. Eduard let out a small, soft gasp as he was penetrated further, and though it disgusted him even to think about, it actually was starting to not feel so terrible anymore. If it weren't for that traitorous bundle of nerves that the Russian kept sliding past...he'd be able to sit here and just take it neutrally, no longer in pain, but certainly not in any sort of pleasure, either. But even though he hated what was happening with every fiber of his being, his body couldn't deny that once the pain finally left, it really did start to feel good, after awhile.
Of course, he would never allow Ivan to know that. If the Russian thought for a second that Eduard liked this (which he didn't; it was just his body that did, and then only after a long while of pain), he would probably do this more often, and that was the last thing Eduard wanted. So he remained silent, which, after the pain, was pretty easy to do. His throat was raw from screams and sobs, and his body still had yet to regain a normal breathing pattern, since his breath seemed to like to be knocked out of him with every thrust the Russian gave. If Ivan were not holding onto the Estonian's body, he probably would have been pushed all the way to the other side of the bed by now.
Just as Eduard was closing his eyes (he couldn't see much more with them open, anyway) and trying his best to relax and attempt to sort of...ignore what was quite obviously happening to his body right now, the Russian pulled out of him, all the way this time, and, for once, didn't press back in. Eduard's eyes opened, and he glanced up at the blur that was Ivan. He was pretty sure the Russian hadn't come. He would have felt it. So...what was he doing?
He felt his heart give a painful pull in his chest when the blur shifted off of him and knelt in front of the blur the Estonian knew to be Raivis. Oh, no...he wouldn't...he already had him...it didn't even hurt anymore. Why couldn't he just finish up with him, and then be done with it? Was he...was he really going to do that to Raivis, too? But...it was pointless! Needless! He already had one! Shouldn't that be enough?!
Apparently not.
Topic: Austria/Hungary/Prussia. Austria and Hungary tag-teaming Prussia, and Prussia liking it. Bonus points for violent sex.
His head hurts.
Prussia slumps unceremoniously on his (okay his brother’s) couch and sighs, pressing an ice pack to his head. Maybe antagonizing Hungary while she was cooking hadn’t been such a good idea, but the cookies were worth it. Prussia grins.
God she’s always been beautiful when she’s angry. The thought of it sparks the heat that’s been building in him since she rounded on him in her kitchen. It reminds him of the days when they used to fight, to really fight, in the midst of the angry battlefield and he groans.
He could imagine her in his mind, her wild hair tangled in the wind, blood streaking her face, her hair, her body, that wild, terrifying grin, and her eyes dark with battle-lust and heady with adrenaline. He palms himself roughly through the thick fabric of his pants, stirring his growing erection, imagining that fury was all his. She wouldn't be gentle, and he doesn’t want her to be. It isn’t her kindness he wants, it was her passion, her righteous, furious passion as she conquers him. He can imagine her fierce kisses, and he bit his own lip, enjoying the sting he knew she would leave behind. He can imagine her nails on his chest as he scraped his own down it, leaving raised red scratches in the pale skin and he gasps, feeling himself harden further under her(his) grasp.
She would toy with him, he imagines. He toyed with her so often in the past, toyed with what she cared for, toyed with what she loved, and he knew she wouldn't be merciful. He rubs himself furiously, the image of her doing the same, rubbing him quickly to the brink, painfully clear in his mind. She would drive him to the very edge and then stop, or maybe she would release him from the confines of his pants (he does so, and god does it feel good) only to clamp her hand around the base of his cock and refuse him any sort of release. God she would make him whimper and writhe and she would love it.
And then Austria… god Austria (he doesn’t want to think of where that came from). Hungary would watch him with that triumphant grin on her face and tell Austria to hold him down and he’d go wild. Wild from the heart-skipping rush of the struggle, wild from his voice, drawn and hoarse, swearing at Austria to let him up, damn it, before he ripped his puny balls off, wild from the (wrong, so wrong) thrill of having someone capable of doing that to him staring down at him with that insufferable, conceited, condescending look. God that look, Austria wouldn’t smile at him, wouldn’t smirk, wouldn’t even bat an eye, just hold him down while he struggled and Hungary would give his dick a sharp tug and he’d be shivering, gasping at the feeling. He’d clench his teeth and try desperately not to beg as she lowers her mouth to the tip of him and licks so lightly it sends tingles down his spine. He’d quiver with it, shake under Austria’s grip, bite his lip to keep from moaning and curse them both.
They would rend his dignity, the pair of them. He had done it enough to them; he could see their faces in his mind, flushed and high on vengeance and his want, with her hands on his cock (too tight! Too gloriously tight) and his fingers buried, burning, twisting within him. They’re flushed and panting themselves but with such control. Neither of them breaks, neither of them even looks at the other; all their attention is for him, for what they’re doing to him. “We could make you beg and grovel like the dog you are and you’d love it,” Hungary whispers in his head.
“Yes,” he hisses, undone by their exquisite cruelty. They’re beautiful in his mind: him cold and stern and not at all fragile, and her bright as a flame and wild.
He spends himself over his hand, crying out as the images in his head flash white and vanish. A moment later he’s curled in on himself, unmindful of the sticky mess and disgusted by his disgraceful fantasy. He shakes with the aftershocks of his mortifying (wonderful) climax and curses his own weakness. Here in the darkened room, his own twisted fantasies are safe, disturbing and safe. Still, he knows if ever those two were to conquer him, he would never really escape. He would try, he might even succeed, it was just the way he was, but those two would still have hold of him forever. They already do.
Topic:I'm little disappointed at the lack of Belarus and Lithuania help me anon. I would like to find some smut about this with some hot rape that turns into badly needed sex and Lithuania FINALLY tops. Hope you accept?
Answer - "This love -poetry":
oh, how your head aches.
reasoning is irrational,
but she’s delusional in her upbringing,
too blinded by customs from a land far away, backwards from a loveless era.
but she loves you.
and this, you believe without doubt.
she wouldn’t leave such pretty marks on you,
like an artist, her sharp knives her brush
and you, her blank canvas
if it wasn’t love that inspired,
that stirred such violent passion from her.
so vivid, so beautiful!
a single glance and goosebumps prickle at your skin.
laughter bubbles up your throat,
drowning and coughing up pretty crimson rain,
and she pulls at your long brown hair,
fingers ensnared in tangles, your many imperfections.
you tell her you love her,
body trembling with the sheer force of your love,
the magnitude of it almost too much for human flesh to contain.
and she shows you how much she loves you.
Topic: Russia/Ukraine, him using the scarf to entangle her.
Answer - "Possesive brother":
Um, this is a bit wierd, but I just thought the idea was really hot, and let's face it, Het can be really hot too~
“Katya, Katya, Katya,” a whisper came in her year.
Yekaterina jumped slightly, and suddenly, the room’s temperature went down. “Why, my dear Katyusha,” The voice continued, its owner’s arms wrapping around her shoulders, “Do you hate me so much?...”
The cold, cold fingertips that ran through her arms sent shivers down her spine. “I told you, Russia, we’re- we have to stay apart-“
“Ah. But I’d so love to be one with you again, Katyusha. Yes,” there was a giggle, and then, “Love that, because really, you’re a wonderful big sister-“
And then Ivan let go, so suddenly like he never held her so tightly in the first place- and when Yekaterina turned around-
There was Ivan, doing something so, so rare, standing in front of her with his scarf in his hands.
“Remember this, Big Sister?...” He smiled, a smile so warm and so fake and with the impression of a souless child. “You gave me this… so, so long ago, when we used to be… used to be so happy-“
And she was in his arms again, buried in his large thick coat, held by- held by Ivan, his voice hovering above her(“This is so hard to believe, that you once gave me this and now you leave me and suddenly you’re against me, and really, I really do love you big sis- I rather you be mine--”), that thin and soft voice, and then comes a laugh as she twists in his ar...
Kaoru-no-kimi