fanfic: Oh, Baby
Title: Oh, Baby
Author: dedkake
Pairing: US/UK
Rating: M
Warnings: baby talk, sexing
Summary: Adult!America calling England "Engwand" during sex.
Note: This is something I filled at the hetalia kink meme and am claiming now (as I will be doing for all my stuff). Originally posted here. First smut I ever wrote.
“What are you looking at, England?” America asks, peaking over England’s should. America had gone to make tea (which he refused to drink, but somehow always had in his kitchen) for the visiting nation and had come back to his living room to find England looking through an old book.
Making room on the couch, England shifted the book so America could have a better view. It was an old photo album, the beginning of which was lined with the drawings and small silhouettes that England had had commissioned before he and America had separated. All the pictures were old and browned, full of two smiling children and their equally happy guardian. “I didn’t know you kept all of these,” England murmured, turning the page.
America smiled, laughing softly under his breath. “Of course I kept them. It’s not like I can destroy history-or even like I would want to.”
The two countries sat together in thoughtful yet comfortable silence, each examining the images of their shared past. They had been fighting once, refusing to forget the pain they had caused each other, but the past century, full of war, international dependence and trust had brought them back together. It was not rare for them to meet with each other outside of official business, but it was not often that they would talk about their pasts.
“You were so cute back then,” England said softly, spreading his hand across the page to flatten a drawing of the two of them, young America sitting on his lap.
America chuckled. “I wonder what happened.”
A smile tugged at England’s lips. “Whatever it was, it had nothing to do with my guidance-probably France.”
Looking closer at the picture beneath England’s fingers, America said, “Well, you have to take some responsibility-that pout I’m wearing there is all yours.”
England traced his finger across the young America’s downturned mouth in the drawing. “I suppose so,” he paused for a moment. “What had you so upset here? I can’t for the life of me remember this day.”
America noted the exasperation in England’s tone and smiled brightly, leaning against his shoulder. “It was one of those days you were giving me speech lessons,” he said, letting a strong, New Jersey lilt coat his words.
Scoffing lightly under his breath, England looked up at America. “I obviously failed in that endeavor.”
“Maybe, but I’ve improved a bit,” America said, sliding into an easy Boston accent.
England rolled his eyes, closing the book and setting it on the coffee table. “Please. You couldn’t speak proper English if you tried.”
“But I can speak my English just fine,” the southern drawl.
“Stop it,” England said, shoving an elbow into America’s side.
“It’s not as bad as it used to be,” America said, slipping back to his normal voice. There was a pause as America stared at England, trying to keep the smile off his face. He took a quick breath and added, “Engwand.”
England pulled away from America and attempted to glare. “Don’t you dare start with that, idiot, you’re not a baby anymore.”
America smirked and scooted closer to England, leaning in so that their faces were mere inches apart. “Maybe you should give me another lesson, Engwand,” he smirked at himself and England rolled his eyes, “but this time, make it more practical-more hands on.”
Still smiling, America kissed England. It was slow at first, almost questioning (which was preposterous because they both knew that England wouldn’t turn him down) before he pushed forward, arms coming up behind England’s neck and shoulder to lower him back into the couch. England breathed into the kiss, opening his mouth even before America’s tongue ghosted his lips. It was slow and warm and England was fast losing himself to America’s pressure, his hands sliding around the younger nation’s waist to slip inside the top of his jeans.
America let out a moan and rolled his hips forward and England gasped slightly, pulling out of the kiss to send America a glare. He placed a firm hand on America’s chest and looked directly into those amused blue eyes. “You did not just seduce me with baby talk,” England said sternly.
“Of course I didn’t, Engwand,” America said, grinning from ear to ear, moving his fingers to unbutton England’s shirt.
England swatted his hands away, unbuttoning his shirt himself. “Oh, shut up already,” he muttered.
America continued to smile, shedding his own clothes in a mirror of England. The shirt first, both of them exposing their skin slowly while trying to peak at each other. Shoes, socks, and pants followed, all flung carelessly (to England’s disappointment) to the corners of the room. They stared at each other, taking in skin and muscles while remaining on their respective sides of the couch.
Moving first, England went to pull at his boxer-briefs, but America stood up abruptly and he halted. “What are you-” he started, but America grabbed at his hand and pulled him up as well.
“Bedroom,” America explained as he tugged England farther into his house. This made sense, of course, and England did not quite know how he had overlooked it. He wanted to scold America for not mentioning it earlier, but smiled as he realized America’s cheeks were cute shade of pink.
The moment the bed came into view, England pushed America back onto it and attacked lips with lips. Their hands were roaming, tweaking and kneading as they explored each others’ bodies. England growled when America pulled at his nipple and America practically keened when England began to caress his stomach. Moving his mouth down to kiss and bite at the strong neck beneath him, England felt America begin to thrust his rather hard erection against his thigh.
Glancing up, England smirked at America. “Eager?” he asked breathlessly, pulling back.
America raised a sarcastic eyebrow at him. “I’m not the only one,” he said, running his hand down to fondle England through his only remaining piece of clothing, which was promptly discarded along with America’s spaceship boxers.
They were kissing again, pushing against each other with their entire bodies. England could feel America shudder as their erections touched and moved together and he tightened his fingers in America’s hair, pulling back to latch onto his neck once again. America gasped for breath in the wake of their kiss, unable to catch it as England steadied the rolling of his hips into a slow, sensuous rhythm.
England was pleased with himself. It had been a while since he’d been with anyone, and he was quite sure that the opposite was true for his partner-America wasn’t exactly known for his virtue. And yet America was panting and gasping beneath him, clearly enjoying this. “Please,” America breathed, “shit, England, please.”
“Just let me take care of it,” England murmured. He reached down between them (as America’s hands seemed too busy being useless and stuck to his hips) and grabbed their erections, holding them together and stroking.
For a moment, England thought America was going to come just at that. “Fuck, England-” America choked on his words; his eyes squeezed shut and his muscles clenched all over, but the moment passed and those blue eyes were looking up at him once again, still lustful.
In a move that left England breathless, America hooked their feet together and did something acrobatic and beautiful with his back and flipped them over, grinning down at him. “I don’t learn from anything but practice, if you recall, Engwand,” he said, leaving wet kisses on the skin below England’s ear.
England’s hand stilled on their erections and he glared at the shoulder in his face. America had just used baby talk in bed. The color rose on his cheeks as he realized that, instead of becoming completely disgusted with his partner, he was more aroused than before. “Bloody hell,” he gasped, sucking in as much air as he could while America chuckled against his neck.
America moved one hand around to fit with England’s, starting up the slow, steady strokes once more. England tried not to whine, turning his face into the pillow beneath him. America’s other hand traced a burning path down England’s side, stopping to knead at his butt before slipping and rubbing and pushing in and-
England cried out softly as he came, breathing America’s name over and over. It took only a few more strokes for America to come as well, a loud moan on his lips.
They laid together, collecting themselves for a moment before America shifted his weight slightly so as not to crush England’s chest. “That was amazing,” America breathed, smiling contentedly down at England, whose eyes remained closed as he calmed his breathing.
England grunted acknowledgement, pushing at America’s chest to get him to roll over so they could lay side by side. “Of course it was, git,” he murmured.
Chuckling, America corrected himself, “you’re right-everything I do is amazing.”
“Oh, shut up,” England groaned.
America smiled at England and said gently, “you’re amazing, too,” and, just as England was nodding his head in agreement, he added, “Engwand.”
A loud, extremely annoyed groan escaped England and he brought a hand to his face to rub at his temples. “Please, not again,” he said, turning his head away from America.
“Why not? You really didn’t seem to mind that much a minute ago.”
Trust American logic, England thought-he clearly recalled objecting to the language. His mind snagged on another idea just as quickly as he shifted through his memories. “How do you like it when I say it, Amewica?”
America burst out laughing at this. “Oh, that’s perfect!” he said happily. “Please, baby-talk me more.” The overly suggestive tone in his voice, already filled with laughter, was hard to ignore.
England smacked his whole arm across America’s chest, color rising on his cheeks. He hoped it hurt. “Shut up about it, will you?”
Grabbing the arm and holding it gently, America curled over on his side to look at England. His laughter calmed into soft breathing after a few moments. They stayed like that for a while-England still rubbing his eyes with one hand and America caressing the arm and hand in his grasp, the arm that had raised him.
“England?” America asked softly.
“Hm?” the older nation grumbled deep in his throat, casting America a look through his fingers.
“I love you.”
America’s quiet words and sincere smile, the nervous tightening of his hands, caused England’s heart to swoon. He squeezed America’s fingers gently. “I love you, too.”
Author: dedkake
Pairing: US/UK
Rating: M
Warnings: baby talk, sexing
Summary: Adult!America calling England "Engwand" during sex.
Note: This is something I filled at the hetalia kink meme and am claiming now (as I will be doing for all my stuff). Originally posted here. First smut I ever wrote.
“What are you looking at, England?” America asks, peaking over England’s should. America had gone to make tea (which he refused to drink, but somehow always had in his kitchen) for the visiting nation and had come back to his living room to find England looking through an old book.
Making room on the couch, England shifted the book so America could have a better view. It was an old photo album, the beginning of which was lined with the drawings and small silhouettes that England had had commissioned before he and America had separated. All the pictures were old and browned, full of two smiling children and their equally happy guardian. “I didn’t know you kept all of these,” England murmured, turning the page.
America smiled, laughing softly under his breath. “Of course I kept them. It’s not like I can destroy history-or even like I would want to.”
The two countries sat together in thoughtful yet comfortable silence, each examining the images of their shared past. They had been fighting once, refusing to forget the pain they had caused each other, but the past century, full of war, international dependence and trust had brought them back together. It was not rare for them to meet with each other outside of official business, but it was not often that they would talk about their pasts.
“You were so cute back then,” England said softly, spreading his hand across the page to flatten a drawing of the two of them, young America sitting on his lap.
America chuckled. “I wonder what happened.”
A smile tugged at England’s lips. “Whatever it was, it had nothing to do with my guidance-probably France.”
Looking closer at the picture beneath England’s fingers, America said, “Well, you have to take some responsibility-that pout I’m wearing there is all yours.”
England traced his finger across the young America’s downturned mouth in the drawing. “I suppose so,” he paused for a moment. “What had you so upset here? I can’t for the life of me remember this day.”
America noted the exasperation in England’s tone and smiled brightly, leaning against his shoulder. “It was one of those days you were giving me speech lessons,” he said, letting a strong, New Jersey lilt coat his words.
Scoffing lightly under his breath, England looked up at America. “I obviously failed in that endeavor.”
“Maybe, but I’ve improved a bit,” America said, sliding into an easy Boston accent.
England rolled his eyes, closing the book and setting it on the coffee table. “Please. You couldn’t speak proper English if you tried.”
“But I can speak my English just fine,” the southern drawl.
“Stop it,” England said, shoving an elbow into America’s side.
“It’s not as bad as it used to be,” America said, slipping back to his normal voice. There was a pause as America stared at England, trying to keep the smile off his face. He took a quick breath and added, “Engwand.”
England pulled away from America and attempted to glare. “Don’t you dare start with that, idiot, you’re not a baby anymore.”
America smirked and scooted closer to England, leaning in so that their faces were mere inches apart. “Maybe you should give me another lesson, Engwand,” he smirked at himself and England rolled his eyes, “but this time, make it more practical-more hands on.”
Still smiling, America kissed England. It was slow at first, almost questioning (which was preposterous because they both knew that England wouldn’t turn him down) before he pushed forward, arms coming up behind England’s neck and shoulder to lower him back into the couch. England breathed into the kiss, opening his mouth even before America’s tongue ghosted his lips. It was slow and warm and England was fast losing himself to America’s pressure, his hands sliding around the younger nation’s waist to slip inside the top of his jeans.
America let out a moan and rolled his hips forward and England gasped slightly, pulling out of the kiss to send America a glare. He placed a firm hand on America’s chest and looked directly into those amused blue eyes. “You did not just seduce me with baby talk,” England said sternly.
“Of course I didn’t, Engwand,” America said, grinning from ear to ear, moving his fingers to unbutton England’s shirt.
England swatted his hands away, unbuttoning his shirt himself. “Oh, shut up already,” he muttered.
America continued to smile, shedding his own clothes in a mirror of England. The shirt first, both of them exposing their skin slowly while trying to peak at each other. Shoes, socks, and pants followed, all flung carelessly (to England’s disappointment) to the corners of the room. They stared at each other, taking in skin and muscles while remaining on their respective sides of the couch.
Moving first, England went to pull at his boxer-briefs, but America stood up abruptly and he halted. “What are you-” he started, but America grabbed at his hand and pulled him up as well.
“Bedroom,” America explained as he tugged England farther into his house. This made sense, of course, and England did not quite know how he had overlooked it. He wanted to scold America for not mentioning it earlier, but smiled as he realized America’s cheeks were cute shade of pink.
The moment the bed came into view, England pushed America back onto it and attacked lips with lips. Their hands were roaming, tweaking and kneading as they explored each others’ bodies. England growled when America pulled at his nipple and America practically keened when England began to caress his stomach. Moving his mouth down to kiss and bite at the strong neck beneath him, England felt America begin to thrust his rather hard erection against his thigh.
Glancing up, England smirked at America. “Eager?” he asked breathlessly, pulling back.
America raised a sarcastic eyebrow at him. “I’m not the only one,” he said, running his hand down to fondle England through his only remaining piece of clothing, which was promptly discarded along with America’s spaceship boxers.
They were kissing again, pushing against each other with their entire bodies. England could feel America shudder as their erections touched and moved together and he tightened his fingers in America’s hair, pulling back to latch onto his neck once again. America gasped for breath in the wake of their kiss, unable to catch it as England steadied the rolling of his hips into a slow, sensuous rhythm.
England was pleased with himself. It had been a while since he’d been with anyone, and he was quite sure that the opposite was true for his partner-America wasn’t exactly known for his virtue. And yet America was panting and gasping beneath him, clearly enjoying this. “Please,” America breathed, “shit, England, please.”
“Just let me take care of it,” England murmured. He reached down between them (as America’s hands seemed too busy being useless and stuck to his hips) and grabbed their erections, holding them together and stroking.
For a moment, England thought America was going to come just at that. “Fuck, England-” America choked on his words; his eyes squeezed shut and his muscles clenched all over, but the moment passed and those blue eyes were looking up at him once again, still lustful.
In a move that left England breathless, America hooked their feet together and did something acrobatic and beautiful with his back and flipped them over, grinning down at him. “I don’t learn from anything but practice, if you recall, Engwand,” he said, leaving wet kisses on the skin below England’s ear.
England’s hand stilled on their erections and he glared at the shoulder in his face. America had just used baby talk in bed. The color rose on his cheeks as he realized that, instead of becoming completely disgusted with his partner, he was more aroused than before. “Bloody hell,” he gasped, sucking in as much air as he could while America chuckled against his neck.
America moved one hand around to fit with England’s, starting up the slow, steady strokes once more. England tried not to whine, turning his face into the pillow beneath him. America’s other hand traced a burning path down England’s side, stopping to knead at his butt before slipping and rubbing and pushing in and-
England cried out softly as he came, breathing America’s name over and over. It took only a few more strokes for America to come as well, a loud moan on his lips.
They laid together, collecting themselves for a moment before America shifted his weight slightly so as not to crush England’s chest. “That was amazing,” America breathed, smiling contentedly down at England, whose eyes remained closed as he calmed his breathing.
England grunted acknowledgement, pushing at America’s chest to get him to roll over so they could lay side by side. “Of course it was, git,” he murmured.
Chuckling, America corrected himself, “you’re right-everything I do is amazing.”
“Oh, shut up,” England groaned.
America smiled at England and said gently, “you’re amazing, too,” and, just as England was nodding his head in agreement, he added, “Engwand.”
A loud, extremely annoyed groan escaped England and he brought a hand to his face to rub at his temples. “Please, not again,” he said, turning his head away from America.
“Why not? You really didn’t seem to mind that much a minute ago.”
Trust American logic, England thought-he clearly recalled objecting to the language. His mind snagged on another idea just as quickly as he shifted through his memories. “How do you like it when I say it, Amewica?”
America burst out laughing at this. “Oh, that’s perfect!” he said happily. “Please, baby-talk me more.” The overly suggestive tone in his voice, already filled with laughter, was hard to ignore.
England smacked his whole arm across America’s chest, color rising on his cheeks. He hoped it hurt. “Shut up about it, will you?”
Grabbing the arm and holding it gently, America curled over on his side to look at England. His laughter calmed into soft breathing after a few moments. They stayed like that for a while-England still rubbing his eyes with one hand and America caressing the arm and hand in his grasp, the arm that had raised him.
“England?” America asked softly.
“Hm?” the older nation grumbled deep in his throat, casting America a look through his fingers.
“I love you.”
America’s quiet words and sincere smile, the nervous tightening of his hands, caused England’s heart to swoon. He squeezed America’s fingers gently. “I love you, too.”