around the world but make it sexy

hetalia x reader in the year 2024? call my therapist stat

[wander-lustrous]

info.

wanda. 25+. she/her.

my blog where i can throw my dark secret that i still like hetalia into the void. dealing with the existential dread from late-stage capitalism by returning to cringe faves. <3

minors dni. i’m old af & was a teen when this series came out.

fav charas: romano, the nordics (norway + iceland), switzerland, nyo!belarus

i write smut & sometimes fluff if i’m feeling frisky

requests are open! feel free to send some in. <3

[wander-lustrous]

*disappears for 2 years then comes back to write during vacation*

hi again y’all

[wander-lustrous]

I feel like Russia + size kink makes so much sense but I can’t think of a location,,, I’m excited to see what you come up with though!!

18+, semi-public, slight degradation

It's a struggle to stay quiet.

Ivan is behind you, his broad frame pressing you into the wall. The thick, formidable length presses intimately against your walls, hot and pulsing.

“Ah~”

Per your request he doesn’t move, except for subtle shifts of his hips that of course you can feel. He is not a small man; taking him often feels like you're being split wide till your very stomach.

“Oh~” You whimper again.

“She will be gone soon, yes,” Ivan says soothingly, placing a hand on your stomach. His dick throbs as he can feel the small bulge of him in your stomach, and he can't help but bury himself a few inches more.

“I… Ivan…” You bite your lip. You hardly expected his little sister would interrupt your alone time, but truly you should've expected it-—Natalya rarely left him alone, especially when you were around. She banged on the door to his conference room vigorously, asking if he was alone. Of course he wasn’t—at the time he was balls deep inside you, pinning you against the wall with his frame. You’re sure Natalya knew you were there; it was hard to suppress your moans when Ivan was rearranging your guts with such vigor.

But neither of you had wanted to deal with her, so once Ivan heard the telltale sound of the lock being picked, he lifted you up and carried you—cock still inside—to the small closet in his room, before locking the two of you inside.

It's so cramped. He barely fit in the closet, much less with you added to the mix. You shiver as you feel him shift and slide into you even deeper.

“Ivan~ Ah.”

“Yes, kotyk, I know.” He says huskily, his voice strained. “It feels amazing for me as well.”

He rocks his hips again, his hands curling possessively around your hips. “So tight. It's like your cute little body can't yield to me just yet.”

He begins rocking slowly, his hips pulling back before thrusting upwards, his cock disappearing between your ass cheeks.

You let out a strangled moan, which he silences by clamping a hand over your mouth. The closet is so cramped; just like your guts, struggling to accommodate him and his massive size.

His hands shifts to your wrists, his body bending you over somehow some way in the cramped space. Soon your forehead is pressed against the wall, and you can't muffle your moans as he thrusts deeply into you. The wet squelch of your bodies meeting is undeniable in the closet, which is beginning to feel stiflingly hot.

"Ivan," you gasp out. "Natalya—"

"Shhh. She's gone now." He lightly squeezes the flesh of your ass before smacking it, making you jolt.

“I’ll cum inside you, da?” He grunts. “Fill your cute little pussy. Then maybe you’ll stop showing up to my office in such tiny skirts.”

“Or maybe...” he says sweetly as he fucks into vigorously, his voice sickeningly sweet. The slap of your hips loud in the room, drowning out your whimpers. “You want my cum trailing down your legs in that skirt, da? So everyone outside can see what a little whore you are."

[wander-lustrous]

hello all sorry for the delays!! holiday depression + currently evacuating from the california wildfires so send me more requests!!! or your fav headcanons. your fav things about your fav characters, your controversial takes on characters, etc. it helps distract me ❤️

[wander-lustrous]

will you do more countdown scenarios? your writing is so captivating!!!

i could!!! it would be fun to do for new years which is oh shit tonight LOL oops

[wander-lustrous]

hello! apologies for the silence. holiday season + i have been having my own international dalliances lol. requests are still open for regular prompts + fill in the blank ones! send them in <3

[wander-lustrous]

summary: old habits die hard, and vash’s protective instincts veer on overbearing.

1.1k words. not sfw. angst. smut in the last 1/4th.

Vash doesn’t greet you at the front door this time.

You expect a stern reprimanding, a caustic comment. That’s the only way he knows how to care, after all. With sharp words, a tight-lipped stance.

You really shouldn’t stay out so late.

What if something happened to you?

My door might be locked next time.

Of course, it never is. He’s offered his home to you, given a piece of himself up, and it can’t be revoked. That’s just the way he is. He rarely opens up to anyone, but when he does, they’re forever in his favor.

You slip into his house in the early hours of the morning, the sky still streaked with twilight. On your way to his bedroom, you make sure to check on Lili, who sleeps soundly in her own room. You crack open the door quietly but you’re not surprised to see he’s still up. You’ve told him he doesn’t have to wait up for you, but old habits die hard, especially for old nations.

He doesn’t say anything as you change into more comfortable clothing, but when you slip into his bed, the tense set of his shoulders faced away from you is all you need to know.

“Had fun?” he asks, and there’s a bite to his words, the kind that has your hackles raised.

“I did, actually.” You shoot back.

He whirls around to face you, and there’s a serious set to his brow. His green gaze roves your face, as if searching for something.

His mouth settles into a thin line.

“I suppose that’s good.”

Terse.

He doesn’t mean it.

You exhale in frustration. “You know, you could always… come with me next time.”

Even before the words leave your lips, you know it’s a moot cause.

Vash frowns. “I’m not interested.”

“Are you ever?” You can’t help but snap back.

The two of you stare each other down before eventually he sighs, a haggard breath through his nose, that of a man resigned to the inevitable. “I can’t stop you if that’s what you want.”

“So why don’t you join me?” You press. “I... it’s been ages since we’ve gone out for a date.”

He makes a face again, and you know what he’s going to say. I don’t like people very much. It’s better to stay at home, safer even—even though he's literally one of the safest nations in the world. You wonder for a moment: if Vash wasn’t a nation, would he still be the same? Keeping people at rifle’s length, always watching his back.

“You know why.”

You sigh roughly, turning your back to him. It’s quiet again. You wonder if he’s going to just turn his back to you as well, fall asleep. Looking at you cautiously tomorrow while offering an apology breakfast, a meagre sign of truce.

His voice cuts through the quiet like a bandaid being ripped off.

“Do you not… like staying here?”

With me? The last few words in the question go unspoken. Vash is a man of resolve, but right now he stumbles over his feelings, laid clumsily before you.

“I—of course I do!” You blurt out, glancing back at him. His gaze meets yours, his eyes cautious, guarded. You recognize that look. It is the same look, after all, he presents to the world.

You roll over to face him. “I just haven’t seen my friends in so long, and I really miss them, you know? We were catching up. Sometimes I do miss the city. The scenery here is gorgeous, but…”

You falter at his expression.

His mouth is pulled into a grimace, his brow furrowed. He looks pained.

“Sorry.”

You blink a few times. “What?”

“I’m… sorry.” You look at him expectantly, and Vash has to fight the urge to flush. Right. He needs to… talk. Explain himself. The words feel stuck on his tongue. “I assumed. I forget sometimes what it’s like to be…young. I’ve never missed people, much.”

“It’s not right of me to expect you to adjust to such a big change. If you want…” He hesitates. “We can—I can take us out more. To Lucerne. Or Bern. Wherever you want.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. As long as it…” He swallows. “If it makes you happier.”

You beam, throwing your arms around him. “Thank you. Thank you for trying.”

Still unused to just how affectionate you can be, Vash slowly wraps his arms around you, patting your back awkwardly.

“I like being here with you.” Your voice is muffled into his shoulder. “Your home is beautiful. But I’d love it if we could both explore the cities, too. Your country is gorgeous, you know.”

He nods, unable to stop the rush of pride at your praise. “It is.”

“And I want to experience that with you.”

Vash pulls back, staring at you long and hard. Then his lips are crashing against yours, the intensity near bruising.

He pulls away, breath harsh. Your lips ache with his efforts—Vash has always been quite clumsy in the bedroom. A stark contrast to the meticulousness he uses to make his watches, assemble his guns.

It usually ends up like this. Emotions running high, Vash loses his composure. His hand brushes against the band of your pajama shorts and when you lift your hips up, he slips them down your legs. He wastes little time in deftly undoing his shorts, freeing his own aching need.

He cages you to the bed, his hands planted on either side of your head. The thick head of his cock slides against your folds, and you sigh wistfully. He continues to rock his hips, the friction causing slick to build between you two. Your eyes flutter shut and Vash curses, reaching for the lube on the bedside table. He warms it between his hands, tensely pumping himself as he continues to rut against you. On your next gasp, he slips into you.

He curses softly, his gaze fixated on your face, scrunched in pleasure. His thrusts are sharp, deep. Sweat drips down his temple as his hips clap against your ass cheeks. He leans forward, onto his elbows. His face buried in the crook of your neck as he pumps you.

Instincts die hard. Vash wants to cage you in his arms like this, shield you from the rest of the world. He’s selfish when it comes to you. When it comes to his family.

Only he should be able to hear your gasps, feel your tight, wet heat sucking him in deeper, swallow up your moans with his own raspy breaths.

His fingers meander down to find your pert nub, which he begins stroking intently. You shudder around him, and just like that, he's gone. He grunts, his balls tightening up as he spills deep inside you. He's never lasted long after an argument.

He sags against you. For now, he’s content with this. You in his arms, his cock softening within you.

[wander-lustrous]

send me some requests for the following and i’ll come up with a mini-scenario!

[nation] + [kink] + [location]

i.e. america + cowgirl + conference room

you can also leave blanks in your request if you’d like me to come up with something!

i.e. greece + _________ + on the couch OR

i.e. norway + __________ + ________

⤿ nations:

any of them (please don’t make me list them all)

⤿ kinks:

cockwarming

cumplay

anal

sex toys

semi-public

threesome

69

dubcon

somnophilia

thigh-riding

deepthroating

size kink

breeding

bondage/shibari

blindfolds

waxplay

breathplay

petplay

BDSM

collaring

cunnilingus

spanking

etc. (whatever else you can come up with!)

⤿ location:

in bed

on the couch

in a conference room

at a restaurant

in the park

in another nation’s house

on the plane

on the kitchen counter

on the dining table

in someone else’s bathroom

at the beach

in a cabin

at the gym

in the shower

in the car

at church

in their office

on the washing machine

in a tent

in the woods

in your childhood bedroom

at a movie theater

at a party

freebie! a location not mentioned above

[wander-lustrous]

germanics as bfs

part 1

ft. germany, prussia, austria, switzerland

germany // ludwig beilschmidt.

- This man struggles to settle down in a committed relationship, preferring flings and quick one-night stands. It's not because he's against it, but rather he thinks it's hard to find someone to accommodate his… specific tastes in the bedroom; plus he's so busy he can't imagine fitting a partner into his life. But once he has a partner, he is SO committed. Like planning-your-one-year-anniversary-getaway-a-month-into-the-relationship kind of committed. He tries not to go overboard with it, but he does enjoy thinking about hitting these milestones.

- Ironically he ends up getting in relationship with friends, his coworkers, people he spends the most time around with, most likely in a work setting. He’s a stickler for the rules though, which makes him hesitant to blur the boundaries between work and his personal life. However, once he starts really noticing this person--maybe the way they're always dressed nice, or hardworking, or always has a smile for him--he's fucked. They invade his thoughts at the most random moments, and it makes him want to avoid them. Thankfully he has friends (cough Italy cough) who notice his little crush and persuade him to do something about it.

- Please don’t even mention wanting to get fit to this man. He goes overboard, devising a workout plan, a nutrition regimen, etc. He can be a bit draconic with it too, wanting to push you to be your best.

- While he's not the most emotionally available partner, he is the most reliable. If you complain that your heater not working, he's fixed it by the next day. If you're nervous about approaching your boss about an issue, he suggests you practice with him. If you're sick, he's getting you all the Vitamin C packets, soup, and tissues he can find, stocking you up with them before leaving for work.

-He's rather touch-starved, so he appreciates a partner who is more tactile. He loves when they hug him from behind, or let him rest his head on their lap and card their fingers through his hair. It's the one moment where he doesn't feel like he has to be quite so uptight.

prussia // gilbert beilschmidt.

- He is so the type to be in a friends with benefits situation. He's pretty clueless about romance. 💀 Or not clueless, but... willfully ignorant. He’s more likely to fall into a relationship by being buddies with someone, then sleeping with them, and a few months in realizing oh shit. He actually really likes them. Like more than as a bro.

- Gilbert is nothing if not crafty, so he wants to figure out what you think of him first. He asks around--your friends, other nations, etc. If you ever talk about him, if they know if you're dating someone else, etc. It's so funny because it's painfully obvious to everyone else that he has a thing for you. In fact, Gilbert is possibly the last person to realize you two are a thing...

- He is actually very easy to please. Just praise him. He’s used to hyping himself up to make sure no one forget him. It means the world when someone genuinely thinks he’s great or awesome. A sure fire way to get him emotional is if you cancel plans with your friends to hang out with him. Of course he’s old and he wants you to go have fun! To live a little. But saying that he’s exactly your kind of fun is enough to have him getting a misty-eyed before hurriedly saying that it’s allergies or something.

- He's a very fun boyfriend. He's never quite let go of his childish side. He is very much the type to make pillow forts with you and/or play co-op with you video games. For movie nights, he enjoys picking movies that he thinks will scare you so you'll end up clinging to him, asking him to protect you. The reality is, if anything he is the one getting more disturbed by the kinds of movies they put out nowadays, more than you do. 💀

- In public, he's definitely walking around with an arm around your shoulder. He's just so excited that everyone will know he has such a smoking hot partner.

-You know what, Gilbert is surprisingly good at comforting you. Part of it is experience, but if you're upset, he's not letting it go. He'll keep pestering you to open up to him. And when you finally do, he'll hug you to him, stroking your hair and calling you affectionate nicknames while reassuring you that as your great boyfriend, he'll certainly deal with any of your problems...

austria // roderich edelstein.

- He composes songs about you. He can get quite in a tizzy due to his perfectionist streak, appearing visibly agitated if the song isn’t going exactly how he wants it to.

- He is a strong believer in having dinner together if you’re living together! he thinks it’s a good habit to get into.

- Roderich is actually quite sweet. He sends you good morning and good night texts, and always texts you throughout the day on your lunch breaks, etc., asking how certain appointments or events went in your life.

- Roderich is a fan of appearances, and he is definitely getting you several high-quality Swarovski gifts. It doesn't matter that he's secretly a cheapskate who patches holes in his underwear--he wants you to only have the finest.

- Do you know those people who flirt via critiquing you? That's Roderich. With you, he's never actually cruel though.

-He is the perfect gentleman when dating you. Always pulling out the chair for you, paying for you, etc.

-He likes receiving massages from his partner. He's also a fan of relaxing in the tub, with scented oils and incense.

- He likes people who are quick-witted, fast enough to catch onto his sarcasm.

- He enjoys taking you to the opera, or to see plays or theater performances. He feels like the arts are not nearly as important as they once were.

- One of his favorite hobbies is to people watch with you. The two of you will sit down at a cafe, have some tea, and just make observations about the people around you. For him sometimes it’s great inspo for music. Other times it’s just great fodder for gossip lol.

switzerland // vash zwingli.

- His love language is definitely acts of service and gift-giving. He likes making you gifts or bringing you gifts his country specializes in. Watches, chocolates, etc.

- Of course you’re going to have to have annual trips to the Alps. He’ll do his best to teach you how to ski, but he’s not exactly the patient… he’ll be damned before Italy or that damn France try and teach you though.

- On the rare occasions he goes out to eat, he likes to get fondue. He thinks it’s somewhat intimate to eat with another.

- When he gets drunk, he’s actually kind of a sloppy drunk. He never really gets drunk though; he can hold his beers. He also tends to be the one to keep things together if you get too tipsy. He wants to ensure he can take care of you.

- He is very impartial, so if you want an honest opinion he’ll give it to you. Even if you’re his partner, he will call you out on your behavior as a neutral third-party💀 In his opinion it’s more important for you to grow than for him to coddle you.

- He has such a hard time with letting people know you’re dating. He doesn’t like other people getting in his business; he prefers his privacy. At first, he refers to you as a business partner, then as Lily’s friend, and then as his friend… and then eventually, when he sees another nation flirting with you, he decides it’s time to make it clear you’re taken for, and wraps a protective arm around your waist.

- He likes giving forehead kisses. Sometimes regular kisses feel almost too intimate for him. Plus when you make eye contact after ending a kiss… he gets a bit flustered. He likes that a forehead kiss is quick and easy but does the job. It’s… efficient even.

- He would definitely teach you how to shoot if you were up for it. He wants you to be able to defend yourself.

- The biggest indicator of whether you two will last in a relationship is if you get along with Lily and treat her like your own little sister. If not, Vash doesn’t see this relationship progressing and will cut things off.

[wander-lustrous]

nordics as bfs.

denmark // mathias køhler.

- He seems outgoing and confident in himself, even a bit airheaded, but the front crumbles a bit with his partner. His partner knows it all—his insecurities about being a leader, his worry about his brothers growing apart, etc. They’re the only person to see him at his worst.

- He’s quite good at reading social situations, so if you’re more introverted or shy (cough like Lukas cough), he’s good at navigating that. Or at least playing stupid enough to ease you out of your shell.

- He would definitely get one of those custom made bootleg T-shirts of you—featuring both some of your most fire selfies and other just plain unflattering cropped photos of you. And he’d wear that shirt unironically all the time.💀

- He does not use punctuation when texting. Or grammar. It’s even worse when he switches to drunkenly texting you in Danish. Or sending voice memos where your already very tenuous grasp on his language is tested when he’s slurring every vowel.

- He’s fairly serious as a partner. He doesn’t settle down easily but when he does, he’s in it for the long haul.

- He’s actually kind of anti-traditional romance. Part of him thinks it’s all unnecessary, really. He greets you with fist bumps and a quick one-arm hug instead of kisses. He’s not big on PDA. He doesn’t think Valentine’s Day should be such a big deal. In his view, you’re his best friend and the person who he’s given his heart to, and he should be reminding you of that every day, not just on silly, frivolous holidays.

norway // lukas bondevik.

- Once he gets comfortable with you, he is so snarky. He’s witty but in the driest way. He likes to show his affection for you through light bullying teasing.

- He is definitely someone who wants his own space. He values independence in a relationship. That being said, if he has to choose between being coddled or doing the coddling… he’d choose the latter. He doesn’t like being treated as if he’s incapable of making his own meals, or washing his own clothes.

- Don’t speak to him in the mornings until he’s had his morning coffee. Don’t even try. The most convo you’ll get out of uncaffeinated him is a few grunts, one-word answers, and dead stares.

- He’s kind of… not the best at conflict resolution. Like truly awful at it. If he thinks he’s not in the wrong, even if you’re still upset about it, he’ll carry on like nothing happened. You’ll be seething in your room and he texts you something utterly normal like, “I’m at the store. Are we out of butter?” and you’re like “??? Hello?? I’m still pissed with you.” It’s his way of trying to break the ice.

- As a texter, he’s pretty dry. He tends to use perfect grammar and punctuation. He’s not a fan of emojis until he notices you using one or two often, and then he’s using them to tease you by inserting them in the most random contexts. He will though text you things sometimes like “This reminded me of you. 🔥” And it’s a picture of an actual troll. 💀💀

- He flirts through book discussions, heated glances that cool before you can take notice, stray physical brushes that seem accidental. When he likes someone, he wants to pick apart their brain, know what makes them tick. He finds passion very attractive, and likes to find ways to rile you up.

sweden // berwald oxenstierna.

- The silent but strong type. He doesn’t mind if you’re chattier—he hopes you are, honestly. He gets nervous thinking about having to carry the convo. He also worries that you’ll find him boring once you realize how quiet he is.

- He remembers everything about you. If you offhandedly mention wanting a certain item, it’s there at your next birthday/holiday. You have to be careful what you mention around him. Somehow you’ll end up with three desks from IKEA, all perfectly assembled, already in your apartment, and ready to be used.

- He does give nice bear hugs. Dad hugs, even. Berwald is secretly touch-starved, so when you initiate a hug, he sets his mind on not letting go first. Which means that sometimes your hugs are awkwardly long, and you’ll have to learn to tell him when you want him to let go. He enjoys it though—he enjoys every minute he gets to spend with you.

- He has you as his screensaver on his phone. That way, whenever some asks, he can offhandedly mention that you’re his wife/husband, and leave them dumbstruck as he heads to the store to buy your favorite pastries.

- He is literally the best person to go camping with. He’s capable and strong. He sets up the tents without being told to, he sets up the fire to cook you dinner, and lets you huddle against him for warmth, his big arm holding you to him as you’re lulled to sleep. You just know this man would fight a bear for you. 🫶🏽

- He has this awful habit of not placing much importance on labels and what’s considered an appropriate label. When he first meets your family/friends, he introduces himself as your husband, and that leads to a flurry of questions and slack jaws. You’ll have to hurriedly explain that (1) no, you’re not married to someone you’ve only been dating for a week and (2) he doesn’t mean it like that!! Berwald in his defense will just shrug and say “Why does it matter if I’m going to marry you some day anyways?” This man wouldn’t know casual if it hit him over the head.

finland // tino väinämöinen.

- You know he gets messy af when he’s drunk. It’s kind of cute, really. He says and does things he’d otherwise be too embarrassed to. Like introducing you to every person at the bar with a loud, “This is the loooove of my life!”

- He’s used to being the mother hen of his group, so when he’s alone with you, he likes to whine and be taken cared of for once. Of course, he feels bad for complaining because he tries his best to stay positive, but you reassure them that it’s okay to be frustrated or upset sometimes, and it’s not good to bottle it in!

- He loves simple domesticity. Cooking together, wearing ugly sweaters together, raising plants together, smearing whipped cream on each other’s noses and giggling about it. Put this man in a Hallmark movie already.

- He gets a bit self-conscious at times about his body. You think it’s perfect for hugs and for cuddling.

- After a fight, Tino thinks it’s wise to hit the sauna. There’s something very open and vulnerable about sitting bare before each other in an enclosed, humid space. Sweating out the tensions from the day before, the heat relaxing your muscles. He finds it very cathartic, and you take a liking to it too.

- This man loves gossip. Tino is a fairly sociable person, and gets along with almost everyone, but he can’t help but perk an ear up when he hears you complaining about someone at work. He keeps up with all your work drama and asks about certain key figures in your stories so that when he inevitably gets dragged to one of your work events, he can smile and pretend he doesn’t know a thing about their lives (even though he knows all the juicy details).

- He definitely keeps a scrapbook of the two of you. He decides to compile one once he knows the relationship is fairly serious, maybe 6 months in. He likes to update it during any milestone or anniversary, and especially likes looking back on it for fond memories. He definitely keeps a few cute candids of you that you have no idea exist.

iceland // emil steilsson.

- He vague posts about you on his private stories or blog, if he has one. A song he listened to with you, a flower he saw that you thought was pretty, a rock that you picked up during your last hangout, etc. He struggles to make the first move, so he hopes you’ll take the hint (the hint is not at all obvious so of course you don’t!) It's even more impossible when he realizes he never added you to his close friends list, or you're not even following his blog.

- His palms get sweaty easily so he gets nervous about hand-holding. What if you find him gross? What if his hand gets so sweaty that your hand slips right through his grip? How embarrassing would that be?! He overthinks things.

- He’s in his head a lot and tends to snap if people prod too much, so he appreciates your gentle coaxing into his mind. You don’t pressure him to open up, and he’s grateful for that. It makes him more likely to trust you with his private feelings.

- The king of not responding to your texts with actual words but instead by sending memes. He can’t help that every funny meme he sees he wants to share with you. He will usually do his best to contribute to the convo after he’s sent you three memes in a row, but that usually ends up being a one-word “lol” or “damn.” He’s so Gen-Z coded.

- You know those ugly sweaters he likes wearing? He knits them himself. Once you start dating, he knits you a sweater and gifts it to you for a holiday. You have no idea it’s handmade until you stop by his place and see all the yarn and needles scattered across his table. Very cute.

- He likes to pretend to be asleep to see what you’ll do. Especially when the two of you wake up in the mornings. Part of him just wants to savor in the lazy morning kisses you pepper across his face. Part of him also just thinks if he lets on he’s awake, he’ll be stuttering and blushing at how cute you are and fretting over the attention. He thinks it’s much easier to enjoy these sappier moments with you when his eyes are closed and when you don’t have to worry about making him nervous.

[wander-lustrous]

countdown was literally!! so!! good!! you’re literally doing gods work lol…it’s rare to find hetalia fics these days

thank you so much!!! 🫶🏽 countdown was actually written a few years ago, and then my hetalia stage reared its head a few days ago, as it does several times a year…. and i decided to just edit and post it this time.

it’s nice to see the community is still kickin! i’ve been in such awful writer’s block for months now but hetalia seems to be doing the trick for me rn 😤

[wander-lustrous]

countdown.

mini-scenarios; how long it takes for each of them to act. ft. norway, greece, russia, spain, japan, prussia, france, netherlands, america, romano. not sfw! 2.2k words

cw: smut. afab reader. collars, teasing, praise kink, dom/sub dynamics, implied gym s*x, implied shower s*x, lingerie, 69, cunnilingus

(10 seconds.)

Lukas likes to make you work for his attention. He’s a cool, aloof lover, the kind whose comments settle over you like the chill of winter. 

In contrast to his dry wit, he works at you like a sculptor, hands nimble and light. Reverent even. He’s unhurried, precise. 

But that’s exactly what makes you want to put on such a brazen display. 

He’s eyed you once or twice but his attention is primarily on the laptop before him. But the sound of fabric shifting piques his interest, and he looks up just in time to see your robe slipping off your shoulders and pooling around your ankles. His gaze roams appreciatively over the sight–your bare skin, goosebumps along your arms. 

He raises a thinly arched brow.

“You’re daring today,” he notes, his lips quirking upwards at one end. He closes his laptop, setting it aside before clasping his hands over his lap, crossing his legs at the ankle. He looks you up and down with no shame, appraising you. “What for?”

The question slips through the space between you as you approach him. Your thigh nudges between his legs, and you know he’s found his answer when his gaze trails up slowly, deliberately–from the apex of your legs, bare and glistening, upwards to the jut of your chest, landing on the leather collar around your neck.

By the way his breath catches slightly, his gaze fixated on it, you can tell he hadn’t noticed that. 

“Is this for me?” he asks, fingers skimming the collar like someone perusing fine china. You bite down on your lip and he hooks his finger under the material, dragging you forward. His lips claim yours with the clear intention that he would soon find out.

(And when it’s over, nothing is as damning as the angry red imprint of his hands on your ass. Or the similar red blooms specked across your neck and collarbone.)

(9 seconds.)

Heracles is an infamous lover, his exploits as legendary as his rich history. Yet if there is one thing you know intimately about him, it’s that he can be quite a lazy lover as well, enjoying the throes of sleep nearly as much as the conquest of bodies.

You had awoken in his bed, the hazy remnants of last night filtering through your mind like the rays of the morning sun peeking through his blinds. You found him nestled in his sheets, his brow unperturbed. The easy rise and fall of his chest reminded you of when it was much more labored just a few hours ago.

It seems only natural, you shifting to straddle him, your legs parting around his waist. The sheets slipping off your form. Chest-to-chest, you move in languid rocking motions, sighing softly as the friction it generates is enough to re-ignite the low flame within you. It takes a few seconds before the soft breaths warming the top of your head stutter, and his hand presses against your back.

“G’morning,” he says groggily, a hint of amusement in his languid smile. You don’t cease your movements, the hot column of flesh between the cheeks of your thighs responding to you. Heracles rests his hands on your hips, sighing softly once you reach between your bodies to touch him more substantively. 

He lets out a breathy moan however once you shift forwards and he’s nestled into your tight warmth once more.

The best way to wake up, in his experience.

(8 seconds.)

Ivan isn’t a brute. No matter how much he wants to take you (and he wants it so badly in fact; your legs wrapped around his an image seared into his mind, the sweet moans of his name pouring from your lips like music to his ears)... he is considerate. You’re smaller than him, you’re not sturdy, not hardened like one of his enemies; in fact, he’d say you’re quite the opposite—

But you certainly are testing the limits of his patience. Perched in his lap as you are, grinding your hips against his in a maddening tango. His grip tightens around your waist–a warning. His hand tightens around the phone pressed to ear, and you hear the way the plastic creaks, as if he’s about to break it. His responses to his boss are  monosyllabic, his thoughts entering around how you present yourself before him, much like a rabbit begging to be pounced on by a lynx—

He catches movement from the corner of his eye, and he watches, gaze sharp, as you reach for his hand gripping your side, yanking his glove off before throwing it onto the floor. Then slowly, deliberately, your gaze trained on him, you bring his hand up to your mouth. He watches as your lips wrap them around one thick finger, before sucking, and surely, even through his pants, you can feel the way his cock jumps at the action. 

“Sorry, boss,” Ivan says, his gaze darkening as he watches your tongue work over his digit. “But I will have to call you back.” He hangs up without waiting for so much as a response.

Ivan tosses his phone to the side, grasping your jaw with his free hand. Your mouth releases his finger, and in a flurry of movement, he’s pining both of your hands above your head in a firm grip.

“You want my fingers so bad, da?” He laughs, a dark, velvety sound. “I’ll give them to you, but don’t blame me if it's rough.”

(7 seconds.)

“Ay, gracias a dios, what did I even do to deserve you, amor?”

Antonio’s lips trail down your neck, littering kisses in conjunction with his honeyed praise. His hands roam your form, groaning once he feels your soft flesh barely contained by the scrappy fabric of your panties. Your giggle has antonio pulling back.

“What? Why are you laughing?” he asks, pulling back with a grin. He can’t help but chuckle himself.

“You’re just so easy, Toni.” You wrap your arms around his neck, drawing him in closer. 

“And you’re very tempting,” he quips, hooking his finger into the thin strap of your thong and pulling; watching, with delight, as he lets it go and it snaps against your skin. you jolt, and with a sharp intake of breath, Antonio takes the opportunity to latch his mouth onto the top of your chest, sucking freshly bloomed roses onto your skin. 

“No more games though,” he groans once he lifts his head. He adjusts your position until your back is sinking into the bed, him looming above you. His hand reaches out to graze your cheek, brushing hair from your face, before trailing lower, skimming your hardened nipple through the thin lace, then even lower, his fingers circling the dampened fabric between your legs, stroking lightly. 

Antonio grins once more, pressing a kiss to your eyelid. His breath washes hot over your skin.

“I am so very hungry, mi corazón. I want to taste you.”

(6 seconds.)

No one gets close enough to Kiku to see how deep brown his eyes are. Dark enough to be black, with the richest shades of carob, those same eyes are trained upon you now, darkened with desire not often seen on the reserved man’s expressions.  

“What were you planning when you asked me to do this?” he says, his voice assured. Unwavering. His boldness also surprised you; in public, he was reticent, quiet. In private, he liked to take control. His thigh is between your legs, parting them, and you have to resist the urge to grind into it. Your hands are bound together with his belt, above you. 

“I’m not sure,” you admit. His gaze darts down to the way you wet your lips, the heave of your chest. He cocks his head to the side.

“I don’t believe you.”

Of course, he knows. He heard of the challenge from the internet, but he hardly expected you to try and trick him into it, pinning him against the wall with a cheeky grin. Still, he played along, spurred by his own interest in just how you’d react when the tables were turned. You didn’t have a moment to react before your world spun, and he had pinned you against the wall instead.  

His gaze rakes down your form, the same way a connoisseur would survey their goods before partaking in them.

He leans in. “Perhaps I’ll need to train you to be more honest,” he says, his breath hot against your neck. “Let’s start with this: where do you want it first?” 

(5 seconds.)

Gilbert didn’t realize that this could be an outcome. Sure he played rough as a youth, enjoyed the spar of bodies, and the smell of battle, but this?

This is the allure of the sweat trailing down your skin, your breathless laugh as you ask him if he’s done with his workout. He never considered this to be exciting—yet he likes it. It reminds him of how certain other activities can also work up quite a sweat. You ask him for a sip of his water, and Gilbert absentmindedly hands you his bottle. He’s thinking instead, about possibilities.

More specifically, whether or not the two of you could reasonably fit in one of the gym’s shower stalls for a quick tryst.

You’re dabbing the sweat off your neck with a towel, asking if he wants to grab a post-workout snack, when he acts. He rips the towel from your grasp, throwing it onto the floor.

“Hey!” you exclaim, only to yelp when he wraps his arms around your chest and pulls you back into him. Your brow raises when something firm prods against your ass, and you meet his mischievous gaze in the mirror.

“Maus, I think we’ve got to hold off on that.” He grins at you, his arms wrapping tighter around you. You can’t miss the way he rolls his hips against your back. “After all, we’re about to start the second workout.”

(4 seconds.)

Francis has a taste for the finer things in life: fine wine, fine food, fine clothing. Beauty, the arts. He considers himself a man of exquisite taste, his eye for the best unparalleled.

Indeed, he thinks, watching you splayed before him, the silk robe caressing every dip and curve of you, he makes very good choices. He downs the last of his sauvignon, setting the glass onto the table.

“Mon chérie, let me get a closer look at you.” He gestures, and you do a twirl for him, your gait slightly off kilter, no doubt due to the few glasses you’ve had yourself. He chuckles, his hands reaching around to grasp you fully, to engulf you in his hold. His lips skim your collarbone, his other hand deftly undoing the tie to your robe, revealing you to him. 

“Magnifique. You must excuse my gall, but… I’d like to appreciate such a fine work of art.”

(3 seconds.)

Abel you’ve come to find, is not the patient type. He is when he needs to be, when it comes to negotiating trades or haggling, but he much prefers the blunt, take-what-you-can-when-you-want approach.

Including now.

“Stop moving your hips,” he grunts, large hands planted firmly on your ass. When you fail to listen, stubbornly continuing your rhythm, he grips one cheek fully and smacks, the sound reverberating in the room. You whine, and he takes the opportunity to eye your swollen mound.

After all, what else was he supposed to do when he came home to find you bent over the couch, the hem of one of his old shirts hitched high up your hips, showing the cute boxer shorts you had on? He may be a man of great restraint, but he is greedy, above all.

He thrusts into your mouth suddenly, a sharp motion, and you gag, pulling off of him. As you cough, Abel makes an annoyed sound, his cock twitching from the lack of stimulation. 

After all, Abel thinks, his tongue delving into you once more, his fingers furiously plunging into your depths (Efficiency, putting you over the edge as quick as possible.) 

Why be patient when he can be fervid?

(2 seconds.)

The bathroom door slams open, and Alfred stands there, disheveled and panting.

“Dude! You said we could shower together….” His voice dies down once he realizes that you are in fact, very naked. “Oh.”

“You were asleep. I didn’t wanna wake you.”

“Well, you should have!” he says, closing the door behind him. Before you can blink, he’s slipping off his shirt and unbuckling his belt. He sets his glasses down on the counter before moving to wrap his arms around you, cupping your chest in one hand as he looks at you fondly. He grins.

“You know we totally need to save on that water bill, right?”

(1 second.)

Lovino is not one to be outdone.  

“What? You mean you didn’t—”

Shame sets in, darkening his features. Breathless, you pat his chest. “It’s okay, Lovi. I’m fine.”

“No,” he says firmly. “It’s not fine.” Despite being spent, despite having given it his all the past few minutes, he finds a surge of energy and flips the two of you over. He trails down your body until he’s a breath away from where you need him the most.

“Perdonami, ragazza. How selfish of me. I’ll make sure you won’t be able to move after this,” he says before his lips seal over you.