#riva.fanfic

[fireandiceland]

drabble time!! this is inspired by a conversation I had with @esperjester and @arternestkirkland over in the usukus lounge.

Here's a little usukus in the context of CanWales and ScotFra dragging England along to their couples activities 🤭

🇺🇸 ~ 💚 ~ 🇬🇧 ~ 💙 ~ 🇺🇸 ~ 💚 ~ 🇬🇧 ~ 💙 ~ 🇺🇸 ~ 💚 ~ 🇬🇧 ~ 💙 ~ 🇺🇸 ~ 💚

“England?”

“Huh?” The addressed nation lightly shakes his head. He had zoned out completely and stared at the plastic clip of the ballpoint pen in his hands that was about to break off- oh. Nevermind. The pen clatters when it drops on the table next to the broken off clip.

Before England can answer France, who looks at him expectantly and way too cheerfully - making England knit his brows together in a frown -, Scotland takes over the conversation. “Franny asked if yer comin’ for brunch this weekend,” he clarifies, shooting his brother a reprobative look.

“Of course he’s joining!” England turns his head to his left where Wales apparently made the decision of his participation for him. “Right, England?” Wales wants to make sure while putting one hand onto England’s arm, squeezing most amicably. If he wasn’t his brother England would have shooed him off already.

“Oh, I’m-“ England scans the people around him, all waiting for a Yes from him: France sitting in Scotland’s lap on his right, Wales sitting way too close to him on his left side, Canada leaning against the table next to Wales and smiling while observing the scene playing out in front of him.

It’s not as if he doesn’t like hanging out with his brothers and their partners, but always being the literal fifth wheel, being surrounded by happy couples talking about their couple’s things and being all lovey-dovey with each other while trying to enjoy a big breakfast… It’s not the most enjoyable sometimes, being the only single among his taken brothers.

“Hey guy! What are you talking about?”

The muscles in England’s shoulders relax the moment he hears America’s voice. As annoying that voice could be in certain moments, this was not one of them. He rolls his shoulders once. He had been more tense than he thought.

America chimes into the conversation, into the group, without any regard for Scotland’s scowl and France lightly swatting his arm, smile as bright as ever. He puts his hands on England’s shoulders, leans into him from behind and just one gentle rub of his thumbs into England’s shoulder blades makes any leftover tension disappear entirely.

“We’re just making plans for the weekend,” Canada teases, knowing exactly what his brother is going to say.

“Awesome! Can I join?” It’s barely a request. America’s tone and flashing smile don’t allow for anyone saying no, paired with eyes shining with a light of excitement no one dares to dim.

England almost lets a smile slip onto his lips and is glad America is behind him. If he had to look at that silly smile and brilliant eyes of him, he knows he wouldn’t be able to keep himself from grinning like an absolute buffoon at the prospect of America joining the double date he was supposed to fifth-wheel.

“You really want to spend your Saturday morning having English breakfast with two of my brothers and the frog?” England asks, but the question is more of a statement not demanding an answer. He cranes back his neck to look at America and there it is again: that goddamn lopsided smile that makes his stomach flutter. Who allowed America to be this bloody adorable?!

“And my brother!” America adds with a wink at Canada, voice loud and cheerful as usually before it turns a little more quiet and he looks down at England. “And you… right?”

The butterflies in England’s gut take off again, making him feel almost nauseous. He is lost in the image of a triple date in front of his inner eye for a moment – Canada and Wales, France and Scotland, and… and America and him.

“Yes,” England confirms eventually and reaches up to touch America’s left hand on his shoulder, “I’ll be there too.”

The contact between America’s hand and his only lasts for a second, but he can feel a little squeeze confirming America noticed how grounding his presence is to England.

England doesn’t enjoy being the fifth wheel to his brothers and their partners, but a triple date might not be so bad with his America there.

[fireandspiceland]

Should I give this a title? I never really title my drabbles. Maybe I should start doing that.. anyway. Inspired by this image shared on the usukus lounge discord server

🇬🇧~ 💚 ~ 🇺🇸 ~ 💙 ~ 🇬🇧~ 💚 ~ 🇺🇸 ~ 💙 ~ 🇬🇧~ 💚 ~ 🇺🇸 ~ 💙 ~ 🇬🇧~ 💚 ~ 🇺🇸 ~

"Do you think I'm annoying?"

The question comes so sudden that England needs a moment to process the words. He blinks his eyes open that had been tightly shut in pleasure while his cock had been engulfed by his boyfriend’s mouth.

"What?" He casts a look down at America - eyebrows knitted together in a dumbfounded expression - who is kneeling on the floor between his legs. 

“Do you think I’m annoying?” America asks again, his voice unfittingly chipper for the message of the question. 

As if it’s the most natural, parenthetic thing in the world, he takes England’s cock in one hand and starts stroking him. Well lubricated with America’s saliva it easily glides along his palm, causing England to moan and tighten his grip on the kitchen table behind him that he is holding onto for his life (or at least to avoid stumbling as his knees might give out if America continues as expertly as he did so far). 

“Right, I got that. Let me… mhh yes, exactly like that, darling,” England trails off for a moment when America runs his thumb over the head of the cock in his hand. “Let me rephrase that,” he continues, “why are you asking this? Now?”

“I’m glad you asked!” America beams up at England whose eyes roll upwards. America decides it must be out of pleasure from the nice long strokes he gives England’s twitching erection and not out of annoyance. Surely not. “I’ve just been thinking about last week. When we were out with France and Canada? It was-” 

“Oh heavens, America…” England exclaims when his lover focuses on the tip instead of stroking his shaft and thrusts into America’s fist. “If I say ‘no’ are you going to continue using your mouth to suck me off instead of rambling?”

America huffs playfully and looks up at England with a cheeky glint in his eyes and a lopsided smile on his lips. The urgency in England’s voice did not go unnoticed. “Maybe…?” he offers while slowing down. The saliva coating England’s cock has almost dried up and he knows the older nation is getting impatient for him to slick it up again.

“Oh, you git.”

England looks into America’s eyes, holding his gaze in a wordless battle of wits. America has stopped masturbating England altogether now, his fingers still wrapped around the shaft and thumb hovering at the tip where a drop of precum threatens to drop onto the floor.

“Okay! You are not annoying, America! But I will take this back if you continue being a saucy menace.” 

America giggles triumphantly at having beaten England for once, at having gotten his will. “No, no. Don’t worry, old man…” With a last wink at England he finally turns his attention back to the penis in front of his face, taking its entire length into his throat as if it was nothing. Perks of having a glutton for a boyfriend.

England only rolls his eyes at the verbal jab. He can excuse a little dissipation once in a while, especially when there are more important things to pay attention to - like the heat and tightness of America’s throat convulsing around his cock. “There’s a good lad. So good for me…” England moves one hand to the back of America’s head, fingers weaving into already dishevelled hair with a firm grip to make sure there will be no more interruptions now. 

[fireandiceland]

Unstoppable force & immovable object

Technically this was supposed to be a late submission for @beieibeislounge Love & Libertea Valentine's Day Event - Day 1 "confession", but I finished it just in time for the big day so take this as you will.

America expected to spend the day mindlessly strolling through London, but as luck would have it, he runs into England in an unexpected situation.

❤️ ~ 🇬🇧 ~ ❤️ ~ 🇺🇸 ~ ❤️ ~ 🇬🇧 ~ ❤️ ~ 🇺🇸 ~ ❤️

The sun comes out, tickling America’s nose, just as he shoves the final bite of the donut, he treated himself for into his mouth. He licks his fingers clean of the sugar dust on them, stopping for a moment and turning to take a good look at Buckingham Palace extending to his right. He could visit London a thousand times, yet the magnificent building would never fail to draw in his attention. The imposing architecture behind the heavy iron gate and the Royal Guards in front of it are always an impressive sight, but today all goes ignored when someone catches America’s attention.

“Engla- I mean... Arthur? Is that you?!” America exclaims, quickly correcting himself to use England’s chosen human name in public. He walks closer in quick steps to confirm his suspicion. “It IS you! When you said you’re jumping in for someone at work for a while I didn’t think you meant this! Do you really have to stay still all day? No moving?”

Continue reading on AO3

[fireandiceland]

Hey I just wrote this in *checks time* like thirty minutes after it’s been on my mind since last night. It’s probably far from perfect but I think you will get what I want to project from my brain into yours 🥺🩷

usukus, very domestic very fluff, much scene and mood building with minimalist dialogue. a little offering from me to you in these trying times 💕

Alfred wakes up in the middle of the night sometimes, warm and cuddly under the sheets, but as he stirs he finds the bed empty by his side. A warmth still lingers but it’s almost gone entirely.

He doesn’t think too much of it, tries to doze off, back into the land of dreams, but after a couple of minutes the pressing matter of urgent natural needs force him to leave the warm embrace of the bed.

He stumbles out of the bedroom, bleary eyes barely cooperating as he feels his way along the wall until he finds the bathroom door. A way he has marched countless times in all states of wake and tiredness yet it’s always a surprise when his hand finds the door handle and switch for the bathroom light.

When business is done and his eyes have become used to the darkness he finds a soft light coming through under the door to the living area. The open kitchen, dining room and living room have always been a dream of his.

He pads towards the door, towards the light. His steps are still clumsy with sleep clouding his ability to move more elegantly.

“Arthur?”

He blinks a few times to give his eyes the chance to adjust to the dim light of Arthur’s reading lamp. First the pitch black of the hallway, then the offending intensity of the bathroom light, back to darkness in the hallway again - Alfred rubs his eyes, the action almost childlike to him when Arthur acknowledges his presence with a look.

“It’s late. Why are you awake, love?”

Could ask you the same, Alfred thinks but doesn’t say out loud. He shakes his head in sleepy disbelieve and finally entires the scene.

As Alfred comes closer, Arthur puts down the needlework he was working on and unfolds his legs under the soft blanket that covers his lower half. With the still lightly steaming cup of tea on the side table and his reading glasses on he looks like the epitome of domestic.

Without another word Alfred sits down, lays down, cuddles into Arthur’s side, forcing him to find a position where he can support his boyfriend’s need for physical closeness without either of them rolling off the not so spacious double-seater where Arthur had made himself a nightly home.

It isn’t unusual for him to spend a sleepless night doing needlework or reading one of his more explicitly ‘romantic’ books or simply indulging in the unintentional comedy that is late night tv commercials. But for Alfred to be awake too is a rare pleasure.

“How long ‘ve you been ‘wake?”

Alfred’s words are muffled by his face being hidden in the soft warmth of Arthur’s ridiculously charming, old fashioned flannel pyjama shirt and the blanket covering his face up to his nose.

“Depends. What time is it?”

For him to tell the time Arthur would have to turn around to face the nearest clock and disturb the sweetness that is a cuddly Alfred, close and soft and adorably pliant. A sacrifice he isn’t willing to make.

“T’late t’be ‘wake…”

Touché. Arthur quietly chuckles and threads his fingers through Alfred’s blond hair. In the orange light of his reading lamp it looks like threads of pure gold spin around his fingers. Even at night the warmth of a summer’s day radiates from Alfred and Arthur lets its light touch his skin, feels it prickling on his cheeks as he too settles into a comfortable position for the night.

“Yes, indeed it is… Good night, Alfred.”

The light is extinguished, but this time Alfred finds comfort in the darkness. Because this time he knows when he awakes, it will be with Arthur in his arms. He hugs him a little tighter at the thought and feels a brush of lips at the top of his head.

“G’night, Arthur..”

[fireandspiceland]

Illusion of choice

Written for a fic exchange that @alifeasvivid asked me to do almost one year ago. Looking back it’s really cool to see how last year I was basically fangirling over his writing and squealing when he asked me to write him something and now I’m shamelessly bothering him with art I see and thoughts I have all the time lol.

Anyway. This is for you, I hope you like it and sorry again that it took so long 😘 (I wanted to make sure it’s good)

Rating: E, no archive warnings but like sex is happening and it’s graphic.

Characters: Canada/Reader/America

Summary: You’re being chatted up by the two hottest guys in the entire club. They suggest a little game to decide just how lucky the night will end for you.

~ ~ ~

A bashful giggle leaves your lips before taking a sip from the drink in your hand. You lost count of how often your glass has been filled up again a while ago, but it must have been quite a few times if the way your skin tingles and how hot your cheeks burn are anything to judge from. The sweltering atmosphere of the club you find yourself in doesn't help either, but there‘s another cause of the heat inside you, one that not even the iced drinks seem to help with.

Or rather, two causes.

“Thanks.” You try to think of the right name while swirling your drink, sending the ice cubes on merry little rounds in the glass. “...Matthew?” The name sounds more like a question directed at the guy who had just sat down by your side again after getting you and the other reason for your agitation another round from the bar.

“Still having a hard time telling us apart, huh sweetheart?”

Continue on AO3

[fireandspiceland]

it’s horny hours I guess 👀 nyo america x pirate england. oral sex/pussy eating, nothing else really. it’s 3am I just wrote this on my phone I’m not going to proof read it now, pls just take it <3

A melodic giggle filled the captain’s quarters while the sea rocked the ship in just the right rhythm to match his hands cradling, squeezing soft breasts. A gasp when he flicked his tongue over her nipple, another giggle when he cruised further down, golden necklaces and the hem of his open shirt ticking her hot skin for a second before it‘s soothed in one kiss after another.

“Arthur.. you’re su-“

“‘t’s captain Kirkland to you.”

His voice a murmur against her hip, Amelia giggled again but it melted into a soft moan when her legs were pushed apart and Arthur’s rigid breath grazed the inside of her thigh.

“Captain…,” she exhaled, unsure what it was that she had been wanting to say. Couldn’t be more important than watching Arthur settle down at his destination anyway.

A sliver of green sparkled at Amelia from Arthur’s half-lidded eyes. The corner of his lip curled into a smirk. There wasn’t much that he loved more than a fine lass like Amelia in his bed, naked as the day she was born yet in a position devoid of all innocence.

“Let me have you.”

Not a question. Barely a request. The demand made Amelia squirm, though not in an attempt to flee from Arthur, his quarters, his ship, but to hide the flush embarrassing her skin and the excited anticipation gushing from her lips.

She nodded, but Arthur had already lowered his gaze. Keeping her spread open, his eyes slipped shut as he closed in on her.

A first lick. Amelia gasped, squirmed again as Arthur’s tongue dipped between her labia in a languid stroke.

He spared her a break, though merely a second, drinking in her taste. As much as Arthur loved his treasures and to dwell on them, this one wasn’t for savouring.

He circled his tongue around her clit slowly, teasingly, then sucks on it. Amelia cried out, her hips involuntarily thrusting up from the bed. She would be surprised if none of the men from Arthur’s crew heard her.

Hands shot to Arthur’s head, pulling his hair, yet her fist around his strands of dirty blond pushed downwards to keep him in place.

The pain shooting from his scalp turned into a pleasurable tingle as it crept down Arthur’s back. He smiled into the next open mouthed kiss he placed right at Amelia’s core.

Again and again, he flicked his tongue over her clitoris, sucked and licked at it, lacking finesse after a dry spell lasting longer than he’d hoped for but making up for it in eagerness and passion.

He barely caught a breath every now and then when Amelia had so much mercy, but if Captain Arthur Kirkland was to find his end with his face buried between a gorgeous woman’s legs as she screamed out his name in ecstasy, then so it be.

[fireandspiceland]

in regards to this post by @alifeasvivid

@luciality you’re a genius.

a/n: I wrote this in like 15mins on my phone while half asleep so don’t expect it to be like.. good.

Alfred twirls his hair while reading stuff for work and taking notes. Just out of habit, no deeper intention. But it feels good. It’s how he keeps his hand busy and himself focused.

But then he tugs a little and it feels really good and his breath hitches. He does it again and squirms in his seat and unconsciously breaks the pen in his hand because fuck how did that feel so good.

The pen is quickly forgotten, the remains rolling around the desk while he twirls a particular strand of his hair again. Wraps it tightly around his fingers and moans a lowly when the mix of sharp pain and burning pleasure this evokes goes straight to his groin.

The foreplay he had unintentionally teased himself with for the last hour crashed down on him all at once like a scorching wave swallowing him whole. With his free hand he fumbles his belt, his jeans open. Doesn’t matter if a button comes off or the waistband of his briefs stretches beyond repair. All that matters is to give his throbbing erection more room or it will burst (or at least that’s what he would swear was about to happen if anyone ever asked).

Another tug on the hair tightly curled around his fingers and his cock jerks in his hand. With his head hanging low he watches the precum gather at the glistening tip while he teases he slightly frayed ends of his hair strand between two fingers.

He strokes himself once, slicks himself up with his own wetness before the pearlescent liquid can be wasted dripping down to the floor.

“What the.. hell..”

Another experimental little stroke of the ahoge between his calloused fingers makes Alfred’s body jerk into a thrust into his own hand. How is he only discovering this incredibly sensitive spot of his body now? A question for another time, he decides.

Alfred keeps twirling and twisting, pulling and stroking the inconspicuous lock of hair. His cock jerks and twitches in the palm of his hand with every new stimuli induced by his relentless ministrations. He doesn’t close his fist to pump himself, not willing to let any other touches overshadow the insane pleasure this one particular spot on his head grants.

His climax hits Alfred hard and sudden. With the force he tugs on his hair a last time it’s a wonder he doesn’t rip it out clean.

For a moment Alfred stays still. Grimaces as he studies the generous mess of the orgasm he mostly caught in his hand. Sighs when he notices a speck of his cum on the carpeted floor. Pants and gasps and hisses as he untangles the hair from his fingers.

The spot was still sensitive at the roots, making Alfred shudder when he tried to smooth his now sweat-damp hair back. With no success.

He found a tissue, did the minimum of cleanup and made himself presentable again (at least in regards to any genitals shamelessly uncovered), then quietly settled back to work.

It didn’t take long for the hand his head was propped up with, to once again find a piece of hair to twirl around a strong finger.

[fireandiceland]

for the kiss prompts - #12 with prucan? <3

Sneaking away to a hidden corner to share a secretive kiss.

This is a premier, my first time writing this ship! I hope I got them right cause I love the prompt :)

note after I was finished: I was thinking this is happening in the corridor of a hotel they stay at for a world meeting and they dont want Germany, America etc. to know about their relationship yet ;)

~ 🍁 ~ 🍻 ~ 🍁 ~ 🍻 ~ 🍁 ~ 🍻 ~

"He- hmpf!" Prussia almost chocked on the rest of the surprised exclaim when a hand was pressed over his mouth and he was quickly pulled into the dark niche in the hotel corridor that he would've overlooked if he wasn't dragged right into it.

Logically speaking there wasn't much that could happen to him, but his heart had still decided to beat faster and his hands had started to tremble lightly. They only stopped when he heard the calmingly familiar sound of Canada's quiet giggle next to his ear.

"Sorry.." Canada whispered and peeled his hand off Prussia's face once he was sure he had been recognised. "I didn't want to scare you." Now he looked seriously concerened. Prussia quickly took Canada's hand for comfort and noticed how his corners of his lips immediately turned slightly upwards again.

He looked so cute, positively adorable, with his cheeks tinted a shameful red but his eyes sparkling with curious energy. An unruly strand of hair slipped in Canada's face, only adding to his boyish charm that Prussia so adored.

"Don't worry about it, schon in Ordnung," Prussia reasured and pushed the curl of hair disturbing his view at Canada's eyes back behind his ear. "Why did you steal me away to this- uhhh..." Prussia looked around the dark corner that was somehow hidden behind a potted plant supposed to bring a sense of nature into the corridor, "...spot?"

"I just wanted to see you." Canada wrapped his arms around Prussia's waist and leaned his head against the other's shoulder. "Without all the other's around. I missed you."

For a moment Prussia tensed up again, still not a hundred percent used to Canada's physical way of showing his affection, then returned the hug, glad about the moment of togetherness Canada had created for them. "I missed you t-"

Once again a word died on Prussia's tongue due to Canada's doings.

The soft kiss Canada placed on his lips made Prussia's heart skip a beat. It had been too fast for him to even react. He only really realised what had happened when Canada slowly pulled back, his lips now turning into a full on smile as his eyes fluttered open.

"-too."