I'm afraid my lovers are out of their fucking minds 5/8
anonymous
June 14 2009, 21:55:24 UTC
"I'll have you know," Prussia says while he tries to align Italy correctly, "that all my ideas are awesome!"
Then he sits down and almost kinda regrets it. Possibly he used to be more resilient when he was younger or a lot more horny, but either way it seems he's forgotten just how much it hurts when you're in a hurry.
"Fuuuuck," Prussia groans, but refuses to stop moving, pushing downwards though it feels as if someone is driving a bloody stake into him. Italy squeezes his hand and looks all worried, but his cock is still hard inside of Prussia and that's the important bit right now. It burns even worse the last bit, but Prussia manages to take all of Italy inside until he can just sit on him and rest for a moment. His shirt feels all clammy with sweat suddenly and for some reason Italy looks a bit blurry beneath him.
"Oh, Prussia..."
He'd like to answer, to say something cocky and prove that he's fine - which he is, totally, he just needs a little breather - but the words somehow won't come. Then Italy proves that buried beneath the pasta, there rests some intelligence, because he reaches for Prussia. It is evident that Italy was born to practice the art of love, even his hand-jobs can turn Prussia and Germany into helpless, whimpering heaps of pleasure le and he turns the full skill on Prussia now. It helps more than he'd like to admit.
Prussia gulps air as if it's going out of style, and slowly begins to thrust, in tiny jerks of his hips, against Italy's hand. He gets an encouraging noise for that and the other hand, which holds his own in a tight grip squeezes encouragingly.
"Okay... So some of my ideas, hnn, might need a little bit of work. Sometimes," he admits. To lift himself off Italy hurts almost more than the initial frantic push down, because it's a more delayed kind of pain and he knows he'll have to repeat the whole thing because giving up? Not an option. But as he balances on his knees, making sure not to let Italy's cock accidentally slip out of him because fuck if he knows if he'd manage to put it back in, he applies more spit and tries to breath deeply, to relax. Prussia takes a certain grim satisfaction from how even little Italy hasn't whined about how it (probably) stung a bit on his side too.
"Again?" he asks and Italy nods hesitantly. It's easier the second time, easier yet the third time and by the fourth Prussia can finally stop digging his nails into his own thigh.
"It- I think it feels better now, Prussia," Italy gasps beneath him and he nods and wipes some grime out of his eyes.
"Definitely better. You can, move ah, a little now." Italy does, though he holds his breath and seems terrified of hurting Prussia. He needn't have worried, though, because now Prussia's starting to get into it. "There, yeah, there!" he encourages, feeling the burning fade to a more pleasurable heath.
Ohhh, but this is it. This is what he remembered. When you don't feel like you're actually going to be ripped apart, but there is a raw, almost frightening pleasure deep inside. Balancing just on the edge between bliss and agony, when every movement releases a new cascade of sensations.
He shivers. Italy begins to carefully thrust into him and after the first awkward movements where Prussia struggles not to lose his balance and Italy is still scared of hurting him, they find a rhythm, can move together. Their hands are still clutched and Prussia rests his other hand on Italy's chest, feeling his heart beat so strong beneath his hand. Now, finally, they're doing it properly. Every time Prussia bears down on Italy, every fucking time he feels filled to bursting. It hurts, no question about with that, but he's hurting so goddamn good that he just wants more. Italy is throwing his head from side to side, such a sweet little bastard, just listen to him pray to his god and lover with moans and cries and that hard, swollen cock. His hand keeps on working Prussia cock and they move faster, soon reaching a frantic pace.
I'm afraid my lovers are out of their fucking minds 6/8
anonymous
June 14 2009, 21:57:21 UTC
Prussia hasn't prayed for a good many years, but he too can't stop the wordless supplications from escaping when the feel of Italy's cock moving inside of him threatens to blow his sanity to pieces. They are driven as much from lack of time as from a need to just do it, harsh and thoughtlessly rough and their movements grow more eager with each thrust.
It's a struggle to keep his eyes open, but he loves to watch his partners. He feels triumph surge through him when Italy's eyes are only slivers of white beneath twitching eye-lids, when his mouth fails to form words but every line of his body, every breath and movement begs for more. The tiny sound his nails make as they scrape furrows in West's sombre desktop sound like victory fanfares in Prussia's ears and the knowledge that this little mark of them will remain here even after they've snuck away is just too much to contain inside when he's already being split open like this. He cries out as he climaxes, bending forward and staining Italy's stomach and shirt with come.
Seems as if Italy likes to watch too; only moments later he thrusts up a final time, before growing tense and then he comes inside Prussia, all breathless and sweet like the pretty little thing that he is.
He has to lean forward to support himself a little, hands resting on each side of Italy's head and they're grinning at each other because this? This was really fucking awesome and they know that a certain Someone would just hit the roof if he found out. That makes it even more theirs, a little secret and lots of bits naughty and it's even more exciting like that.
It is while Prussia is still kneeling on the desk, Italy buried to the hilt inside of him, that he becomes aware of a slight scraping sound from behind. It's almost as if someone is trying to unlock the office door, which is just stupid because the door isn't even... locked...
"West!" "Germany!"
They scramble to separate in acute panic and Prussia scans the room for his clothes and- holy shit, why didn't Italy stop him from throwing everything off the bloody desk? They'll never clean this up in time!
He's halfway into his trousers when the thought hits him that maybe West isn't alone! And, oh god, his brother will kill him and stop fucking him and he'll probably be exiled to bloody Bavaria!
"Ludwig," he cries, "is that you?" The sounds stop abruptly and he hopes that West has brains enough to realize that something is wrong.
Italy is crawling around on the floor, trying to gather up the papers. Prussia nearly has an aneurysm when he realises that the scatterbrained nation hasn't gotten his fucking pants on yet and he's just about to help him with that when the door opens a smidge and West squeezes inside.
Prussia isn't the most easily embarrassed of nations but even he can't help feeling a bit stupid as icy-blue eyes lock onto him with cold fury. The entire room reeks of sex, he realizes, and even if he'd managed to get Italy into his clothes it wouldn't have mattered because there's an obvious gob of something whitish on his khaki shirt. That Prussia can feel his own clothes stick to him with while something sticky trickles down his leg doesn't exactly make things better.
"What the hell are you doing?" West hisses. He has closed the door and presses back against it as if he's forcing himself not just stretch out his hands and strangle his two lovers.
"I have the minister of environment and two UN representatives waiting in a conference room not twenty steps away and when I come here to get the briefs you promised on your honour to bring me I find you two- Oh my god, Italy! Don't smear come on my spreadsheets!"
"I..." Prussia can't find the words. What is he supposed to say? That he didn't think they'd go at it for that long, that he just couldn't help himself? The arguments that seemed so overwhelming when his cock was hard and his balls were full seem a lot less important now that Germany is gathering papers in furious silence and Italy shamefacedly drags on his trousers, not even bothering to show off his new "haircut".
"Sorry, Germany! We're so sorry!" Italy manages to contain his tears, though his lower lip trembles dangerously. "We didn't really think..."
I'm afraid my lovers are out of their fucking minds 7/8
anonymous
June 14 2009, 21:59:30 UTC
"That's painfully obvious," West says, not even looking up from his work. "I just." He sighs and shakes his head, completely ignoring Prussia's muttered excuse. "Can't you, for just one day, stop acting like oversexed rabbits?" There is a mutual shuffling of feet and awkward fumbling with various garments.
He manages to get a window open and Italy slinks over to him, possibly seeking protection but somehow making Prussia feel like they are a pair of naughty children about to be disciplined by their tutor. "West, ah, fuck..." He gives Italy a helpless glance and shrugs. "We didn't really plan to. You know?"
"I know only one thing." Germany says and gives him a truly withering glare that would really hurt Prussia if he wasn't such a steel-willed bastion of stoicism, "I'm currently wondering why I'm even trying to have a serious relationship with a pair of idiots like you!"
They are saved from trying to think up an answer to, preferably one which doesn't involve tears and clinging to Germany's feet begging for forgiveness, only by a careful knock on the door. All three nations go stone-still, though Prussia can tell from the slight tremble in Germany's hands that his little brother is probably contemplating nationcide.
"Mr. Germany? Is everything alright?"
"Y- yes, one moment please," Germany answers. His eyes frantically search the room for any nook to hide Prussia and Italy in but find none, of course, for Germany prefers his room uncluttered. The bookshelves are open and don't hide any secret entrances, the two cabinets are full of files while the desk drawers are, regrettably, too small.
Nowhere to hide and only one door out... Prussia feels the spark of an idea take hold of him. Perhaps, if they can do nothing else to save the situation, they can at least show that they are sincerely regretful?
"Hey, Italy," he whispers, "you're not afraid of heights are you?"
"Ve?" The Mediterranean's face is an image of misery when it turns to Prussia and he feels a stitch of pain in the, lately far too sappy, muscle inside his chest. There's just something about Italy looking sad that hurts, dammit. Also, Prussia is coming to realize that for some reason the cute little fool is half-convinced that Germany and Prussia will just up and abandon him some day. Prussia, of course, knows that he is far too awesome for such fears, ahahaha! That he tries his best to keep West and Italy happy these days has nothing to do with that, he's just such a caring guy. Yep, that's him, too bloody selfless and considerate for his own good.
"We'll be out of your hair real before you know it," Prussia assures Germany in a hushed whisper, while carefully putting a hand on Italy's shoulder, "and we'll cook you something great tonight."
"Prussia, what are you talking about?"
If Germany is to have any chance to smooth this over, he has to open the door in a few seconds, Prussia figures. Which is why he sweeps Italy up, bites his tongue when certain parts of his anatomy argue that this was a really fucking bad idea right now, and fires off his most awesome grin at West's quizzical frown.
"Anyone ever told you what Russia considers parachuting?"
"What?"
With that, Prussia puts a boot on the window sill - aaargh - and then he pushes off, a move that earns at least a double aaargh. It seems as if Italy has figured out what is about to happen before West, because he puts one arm around Prussia's neck while reaching for the window with the other, giving them the needed leverage to get up in the window. For a moment they balance precariously on the sill and he knows Germany is running towards them because brotherly intuition rocks that way (also he can kinda see a reflection in the open window). Then Italy lets loose a small whoop, and while it wavers a little, he at least tried, and Prussia laughs because sometimes when you're about to do something really fucking awesomely stupid, such as jumping out from the fourth floor of an office building to impress your angry brother, you just have to laugh common sense in the face.
Then they are falling. Italy is screeching in his ear and the pavement looks very hard and uncomfortable, but fuck, if he breaks a leg Germany just can't throw him out, now can he?
I'm afraid my lovers are out of their fucking minds 8/8
anonymous
June 14 2009, 22:01:41 UTC
"Oh, Mr. Germany! I'm sorry, we just wondered if something was wrong..."
"No, no, it is nothing. It merely seems as if the window blew open and scattered my papers, but I think I have gathered them all."
"Splendid, splendid. Although, it must have been quite the fierce wind! Hoh, it looks like you had a veritable storm in here."
"Ah, yes. Unusual at this time of the year. Perhaps it has something to do with the climate change?"
"I certainly hope not, though who knows these days? Well. Shall we...?"
"Yes, of course. One moment please, I'll just close here. Better avoid any further accidents, right?"
"My, my, what is that crowd outside?"
"Crowd? Oh, that. Ah."
Germany smiles to himself and closes the window. The throng of people is already beginning to break up; two figures slowly make their way from the centre of it towards the nearest subway station. The taller one is visibly limping, but he is supported by a brunette whom Germany knows has a most unlikely strand of hair, which has probably creased badly in fright, so he is not too worried.
"It is nothing, probably only buskers or some other fools that disturb the traffic," he reassures his minister. "Has my secretary already brought you coffee?"
"Hmm? Oh, yes, thank you."
-- The End --
Er, maybe this didn't fit the request that much. Sorry, anon, hope you're not disappointed... but I'm planning to write Prussia and Italy have their own *facepalm-why me* moments and I'll try and make them fit your request better!
Re: I'm afraid my lovers are out of their fucking minds 8/8
anonymous
June 15 2009, 02:39:34 UTC
You wrote a sequel to that fic! ♥ This was both hot and amusing. And I loved Prussia's line about what Russia considers parachuting. I really hope there'll be more of this series from you ♥
Re: I'm afraid my lovers are out of their fucking minds 8/8
anonymous
June 15 2009, 10:12:15 UTC
=_= so hot. sad it's still seme!italy, but i know tht's what you prefer. somehow i can't complain, since it was still good. damn you.
sweet and hot and terrifyingly IC and everything... and i feel for poor germany who has to put up with those two sex crazied nations. (and now i worry if gilbert really broke a leg... o.o)
Re: I'm afraid my lovers are out of their fucking minds 8/8
anonymous
June 15 2009, 17:23:46 UTC
EEEEEEE~! IT'S A SERIES!
Ah, I love these three the way you write them. This is just so frantic, and unexpectedly sweet at a couple of points, and hilariously in-character, and oh poor Ludwig. Also, I lol'd at the term "nationcide". And "what Russia considers parachuting". XD Great stuff.
Oh, and did I mention how moltenly hot this is? That, too. Excellence, anon, once more!
Re: I'm afraid my lovers are out of their fucking minds 8/8
anonymous
June 16 2009, 04:06:09 UTC
OH MEIN GOTT!!! A sequel- ahhhhhhhh!!
I was so excited I started squirming & squealing- even if no one else could share the joy at least I got it out of my system.
The mentions of Russia, shaved!Italy & "smell of sex"- so many details to love in the fic [So was /not/ expecting pained!uke!Prussia & nervous!seme!Italy]! I absolutely adore your Prussia characterization [aww environmentally friendly & small car loving Gilbert <3] & even if we didn't see much of Germany this time around what there was was simply AWESOME.
Love each and everyone of your fills, and can't wait to read more <3333
Re: I'm afraid my lovers are out of their fucking minds 8/8
anonymous
June 24 2009, 02:37:13 UTC
I...I love you. I know you know this already, but... Love you. And I love seme!Italy, by the way. YOU MADE ME A BELIEVER. Also, I ended up drawing fanart for the last story. Both made me lawl hard. Goodness.
Then he sits down and almost kinda regrets it. Possibly he used to be more resilient when he was younger or a lot more horny, but either way it seems he's forgotten just how much it hurts when you're in a hurry.
"Fuuuuck," Prussia groans, but refuses to stop moving, pushing downwards though it feels as if someone is driving a bloody stake into him. Italy squeezes his hand and looks all worried, but his cock is still hard inside of Prussia and that's the important bit right now. It burns even worse the last bit, but Prussia manages to take all of Italy inside until he can just sit on him and rest for a moment. His shirt feels all clammy with sweat suddenly and for some reason Italy looks a bit blurry beneath him.
"Oh, Prussia..."
He'd like to answer, to say something cocky and prove that he's fine - which he is, totally, he just needs a little breather - but the words somehow won't come. Then Italy proves that buried beneath the pasta, there rests some intelligence, because he reaches for Prussia. It is evident that Italy was born to practice the art of love, even his hand-jobs can turn Prussia and Germany into helpless, whimpering heaps of pleasure le and he turns the full skill on Prussia now. It helps more than he'd like to admit.
Prussia gulps air as if it's going out of style, and slowly begins to thrust, in tiny jerks of his hips, against Italy's hand. He gets an encouraging noise for that and the other hand, which holds his own in a tight grip squeezes encouragingly.
"Okay... So some of my ideas, hnn, might need a little bit of work. Sometimes," he admits. To lift himself off Italy hurts almost more than the initial frantic push down, because it's a more delayed kind of pain and he knows he'll have to repeat the whole thing because giving up? Not an option.
But as he balances on his knees, making sure not to let Italy's cock accidentally slip out of him because fuck if he knows if he'd manage to put it back in, he applies more spit and tries to breath deeply, to relax. Prussia takes a certain grim satisfaction from how even little Italy hasn't whined about how it (probably) stung a bit on his side too.
"Again?" he asks and Italy nods hesitantly. It's easier the second time, easier yet the third time and by the fourth Prussia can finally stop digging his nails into his own thigh.
"It- I think it feels better now, Prussia," Italy gasps beneath him and he nods and wipes some grime out of his eyes.
"Definitely better. You can, move ah, a little now." Italy does, though he holds his breath and seems terrified of hurting Prussia. He needn't have worried, though, because now Prussia's starting to get into it. "There, yeah, there!" he encourages, feeling the burning fade to a more pleasurable heath.
Ohhh, but this is it. This is what he remembered. When you don't feel like you're actually going to be ripped apart, but there is a raw, almost frightening pleasure deep inside. Balancing just on the edge between bliss and agony, when every movement releases a new cascade of sensations.
He shivers. Italy begins to carefully thrust into him and after the first awkward movements where Prussia struggles not to lose his balance and Italy is still scared of hurting him, they find a rhythm, can move together. Their hands are still clutched and Prussia rests his other hand on Italy's chest, feeling his heart beat so strong beneath his hand. Now, finally, they're doing it properly.
Every time Prussia bears down on Italy, every fucking time he feels filled to bursting. It hurts, no question about with that, but he's hurting so goddamn good that he just wants more. Italy is throwing his head from side to side, such a sweet little bastard, just listen to him pray to his god and lover with moans and cries and that hard, swollen cock. His hand keeps on working Prussia cock and they move faster, soon reaching a frantic pace.
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It's a struggle to keep his eyes open, but he loves to watch his partners. He feels triumph surge through him when Italy's eyes are only slivers of white beneath twitching eye-lids, when his mouth fails to form words but every line of his body, every breath and movement begs for more. The tiny sound his nails make as they scrape furrows in West's sombre desktop sound like victory fanfares in Prussia's ears and the knowledge that this little mark of them will remain here even after they've snuck away is just too much to contain inside when he's already being split open like this. He cries out as he climaxes, bending forward and staining Italy's stomach and shirt with come.
Seems as if Italy likes to watch too; only moments later he thrusts up a final time, before growing tense and then he comes inside Prussia, all breathless and sweet like the pretty little thing that he is.
He has to lean forward to support himself a little, hands resting on each side of Italy's head and they're grinning at each other because this? This was really fucking awesome and they know that a certain Someone would just hit the roof if he found out. That makes it even more theirs, a little secret and lots of bits naughty and it's even more exciting like that.
It is while Prussia is still kneeling on the desk, Italy buried to the hilt inside of him, that he becomes aware of a slight scraping sound from behind. It's almost as if someone is trying to unlock the office door, which is just stupid because the door isn't even... locked...
"West!"
"Germany!"
They scramble to separate in acute panic and Prussia scans the room for his clothes and- holy shit, why didn't Italy stop him from throwing everything off the bloody desk? They'll never clean this up in time!
He's halfway into his trousers when the thought hits him that maybe West isn't alone! And, oh god, his brother will kill him and stop fucking him and he'll probably be exiled to bloody Bavaria!
"Ludwig," he cries, "is that you?" The sounds stop abruptly and he hopes that West has brains enough to realize that something is wrong.
Italy is crawling around on the floor, trying to gather up the papers. Prussia nearly has an aneurysm when he realises that the scatterbrained nation hasn't gotten his fucking pants on yet and he's just about to help him with that when the door opens a smidge and West squeezes inside.
Prussia isn't the most easily embarrassed of nations but even he can't help feeling a bit stupid as icy-blue eyes lock onto him with cold fury. The entire room reeks of sex, he realizes, and even if he'd managed to get Italy into his clothes it wouldn't have mattered because there's an obvious gob of something whitish on his khaki shirt. That Prussia can feel his own clothes stick to him with while something sticky trickles down his leg doesn't exactly make things better.
"What the hell are you doing?" West hisses. He has closed the door and presses back against it as if he's forcing himself not just stretch out his hands and strangle his two lovers.
"I have the minister of environment and two UN representatives waiting in a conference room not twenty steps away and when I come here to get the briefs you promised on your honour to bring me I find you two- Oh my god, Italy! Don't smear come on my spreadsheets!"
"I..." Prussia can't find the words. What is he supposed to say? That he didn't think they'd go at it for that long, that he just couldn't help himself? The arguments that seemed so overwhelming when his cock was hard and his balls were full seem a lot less important now that Germany is gathering papers in furious silence and Italy shamefacedly drags on his trousers, not even bothering to show off his new "haircut".
"Sorry, Germany! We're so sorry!" Italy manages to contain his tears, though his lower lip trembles dangerously. "We didn't really think..."
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"Can't you, for just one day, stop acting like oversexed rabbits?" There is a mutual shuffling of feet and awkward fumbling with various garments.
He manages to get a window open and Italy slinks over to him, possibly seeking protection but somehow making Prussia feel like they are a pair of naughty children about to be disciplined by their tutor.
"West, ah, fuck..." He gives Italy a helpless glance and shrugs. "We didn't really plan to. You know?"
"I know only one thing." Germany says and gives him a truly withering glare that would really hurt Prussia if he wasn't such a steel-willed bastion of stoicism, "I'm currently wondering why I'm even trying to have a serious relationship with a pair of idiots like you!"
They are saved from trying to think up an answer to, preferably one which doesn't involve tears and clinging to Germany's feet begging for forgiveness, only by a careful knock on the door. All three nations go stone-still, though Prussia can tell from the slight tremble in Germany's hands that his little brother is probably contemplating nationcide.
"Mr. Germany? Is everything alright?"
"Y- yes, one moment please," Germany answers.
His eyes frantically search the room for any nook to hide Prussia and Italy in but find none, of course, for Germany prefers his room uncluttered. The bookshelves are open and don't hide any secret entrances, the two cabinets are full of files while the desk drawers are, regrettably, too small.
Nowhere to hide and only one door out... Prussia feels the spark of an idea take hold of him. Perhaps, if they can do nothing else to save the situation, they can at least show that they are sincerely regretful?
"Hey, Italy," he whispers, "you're not afraid of heights are you?"
"Ve?"
The Mediterranean's face is an image of misery when it turns to Prussia and he feels a stitch of pain in the, lately far too sappy, muscle inside his chest. There's just something about Italy looking sad that hurts, dammit. Also, Prussia is coming to realize that for some reason the cute little fool is half-convinced that Germany and Prussia will just up and abandon him some day. Prussia, of course, knows that he is far too awesome for such fears, ahahaha!
That he tries his best to keep West and Italy happy these days has nothing to do with that, he's just such a caring guy. Yep, that's him, too bloody selfless and considerate for his own good.
"We'll be out of your hair real before you know it," Prussia assures Germany in a hushed whisper, while carefully putting a hand on Italy's shoulder, "and we'll cook you something great tonight."
"Prussia, what are you talking about?"
If Germany is to have any chance to smooth this over, he has to open the door in a few seconds, Prussia figures. Which is why he sweeps Italy up, bites his tongue when certain parts of his anatomy argue that this was a really fucking bad idea right now, and fires off his most awesome grin at West's quizzical frown.
"Anyone ever told you what Russia considers parachuting?"
"What?"
With that, Prussia puts a boot on the window sill - aaargh - and then he pushes off, a move that earns at least a double aaargh. It seems as if Italy has figured out what is about to happen before West, because he puts one arm around Prussia's neck while reaching for the window with the other, giving them the needed leverage to get up in the window. For a moment they balance precariously on the sill and he knows Germany is running towards them because brotherly intuition rocks that way (also he can kinda see a reflection in the open window).
Then Italy lets loose a small whoop, and while it wavers a little, he at least tried, and Prussia laughs because sometimes when you're about to do something really fucking awesomely stupid, such as jumping out from the fourth floor of an office building to impress your angry brother, you just have to laugh common sense in the face.
Then they are falling. Italy is screeching in his ear and the pavement looks very hard and uncomfortable, but fuck, if he breaks a leg Germany just can't throw him out, now can he?
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"No, no, it is nothing. It merely seems as if the window blew open and scattered my papers, but I think I have gathered them all."
"Splendid, splendid. Although, it must have been quite the fierce wind! Hoh, it looks like you had a veritable storm in here."
"Ah, yes. Unusual at this time of the year. Perhaps it has something to do with the climate change?"
"I certainly hope not, though who knows these days? Well. Shall we...?"
"Yes, of course. One moment please, I'll just close here. Better avoid any further accidents, right?"
"My, my, what is that crowd outside?"
"Crowd? Oh, that. Ah."
Germany smiles to himself and closes the window. The throng of people is already beginning to break up; two figures slowly make their way from the centre of it towards the nearest subway station. The taller one is visibly limping, but he is supported by a brunette whom Germany knows has a most unlikely strand of hair, which has probably creased badly in fright, so he is not too worried.
"It is nothing, probably only buskers or some other fools that disturb the traffic," he reassures his minister. "Has my secretary already brought you coffee?"
"Hmm? Oh, yes, thank you."
-- The End --
Er, maybe this didn't fit the request that much. Sorry, anon, hope you're not disappointed... but I'm planning to write Prussia and Italy have their own *facepalm-why me* moments and I'll try and make them fit your request better!
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This was both hot and amusing. And I loved Prussia's line about what Russia considers parachuting.
I really hope there'll be more of this series from you ♥
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sweet and hot and terrifyingly IC and everything... and i feel for poor germany who has to put up with those two sex crazied nations. (and now i worry if gilbert really broke a leg... o.o)
(and this is the person who knows you :P)
i still loved it, damn it X3
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Ah, I love these three the way you write them. This is just so frantic, and unexpectedly sweet at a couple of points, and hilariously in-character, and oh poor Ludwig. Also, I lol'd at the term "nationcide". And "what Russia considers parachuting". XD Great stuff.
Oh, and did I mention how moltenly hot this is? That, too. Excellence, anon, once more!
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A sequel- ahhhhhhhh!!
I was so excited I started squirming & squealing- even if no one else could share the joy at least I got it out of my system.
The mentions of Russia, shaved!Italy & "smell of sex"- so many details to love in the fic [So was /not/ expecting pained!uke!Prussia & nervous!seme!Italy]! I absolutely adore your Prussia characterization [aww environmentally friendly & small car loving Gilbert <3] & even if we didn't see much of Germany this time around what there was was simply AWESOME.
Love each and everyone of your fills, and can't wait to read more <3333
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I hadn't dared to hope for a sequel. And I don't know how you manage to write something this hot and hilarious at the same time.
What a pair of utter dorks. Poor Germany, if he wasn't as big of a dork himself.
"nationcide", pfff.
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And I love seme!Italy, by the way. YOU MADE ME A BELIEVER.
Also, I ended up drawing fanart for the last story. Both made me lawl hard. Goodness.
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OMG! OMG!
Fanart? Where? Can I see, pleeeeaaaase?
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