Saturday, June 28, 2014

A Prussia Lemon -- Fester, Double, Shatter

Character: Prussia

Fandom: Hetalia

OC: Rose, hot-headed, auburn hair

Inspiration: Angry sex.  Yup ;)

It hadn't actually been her fault.  She hadn't meant to lock them out of their apartment.  It is just a twist of fate: one of those uncertain, deceptive struggles that life often throws at you.  If anything, it's more Prussia's fault than hers, because he'd been the one complaining about missing the show and how much time it could possibly take to put a fucking dress on.
"What?" he mutters when he hears her say that.  He narrows his eyes at Rose and crosses his arms.  In an annoyed voice, he spits, "You were the one to leave the key on the table.  Inside.  How the fuck did you forget to take the goddamn key?!"  Oh, he's angry.  Angrier even than before, when they'd first realized the mistake.  But luckily, Rose is well equipped at dealing with her sometimes emotional lover, and she just glowers.
"You're the man.  Shouldn't the men remember stuff like that?"  She's not as angry as him, of course, but she'd definitely like for him to stop blaming her whenever something bad happens.  Besides, it had been his fault, or at least partially.  He had been so distracting as they were leaving that of course she'd forgotten to take the key.  If he hadn't been putting his hands everywhere and giving her those eyes, then her common sense would have been firmly retained.
Gilbert lets out a laugh, one of those I-can't-believe-this-is-happening-to-me laughs, and turns around to face the stairs.  Their apartment is on the sixth floor of a rickety old building that literally anyone could walk into, because the safety system is shit.  The wallpapered walls are peeling and the paint is chipping off the stairway railing.  Theirs is the only door on this landing, because to the right is the emergency landing.  It's an old fashioned layout, not like the modern duplexes, but it's cheap and close to Rose's work place.  Gilbert usually doesn't mind the building.  It has that old charm which is rarely seen in cities anymore, and besides, he doesn't need much to live on.  But tonight, the stairway feels suffocating and his anger clouds all of those sentiments, and Gilbert just wants to get out.
"You're right," he growls, his voice low and dangerous but not very scary, to Rose.  She slides down the door and watches as he turns back to her, eyes sweeping over her figure as she sits on the floor.  Her dress is hiked up to her thighs and her hair is messy from the last five minutes, when she'd constantly been running her fingers through it.  She looks tired, too, and a bit upset, but mostly just accepting.  This is life.  It happens.  They can just go to a hotel for the night and call the landlord or a locksmith tomorrow.
But Gilbert's not accepting.  He's angry.  Maybe not at her but at the night in general, and at the fact that nothing ever seems to go right for him and he's got the worst luck and it drives him insane.  And maybe he's a bit jealous of that accepting attitude, the way Rose can just take things into stride and turn them into blessings.  Whichever, he bites out an annoyed, "You're right, I am a man," in response to her previous words, which he saw as a way of her questioning that manliness.  He absolutely can't have her questioning that part of him. 
Rose raises her eyebrows and looks at him, a little bit confused.  The smile she sends him is bathed in amusement, like she's not sure where he's going with this and hadn't expected him to so adamantly insist it.  She tilts her head to the side and says lightly, "I know you're a man, Gilbert.  That's exactly what's wrong with you."  He glares.  She shrugs.
He starts pacing, spewing curse words that would make a sailor cringe.  Some of his words are English, things he'd picked up on during his time with the English speaking countries and most of Europe, for that matter.  They are bright words, pushed past angry lips that make them even brighter, like scintillating promises and threats and warnings.  Most are German words, because he knows much more of those and can string them together faster.  They spin off his tongue like never ending seasons that burn, crush, freeze, bloom, and Rose watches in mild interest because he mutters them so quickly and she's always liked foreign curse words.  They amuse her.
But she's not really amused when he mutters, "Fuck it, this is all your fault, where are we gonna sleep - "Wie zu Hölle, bin ich an solch eine bescheuerte Frau geraten?" [1]  No, that doesn't really amuse her.  Especially when Rose can understand what he's saying.  She immediately switches from lighthearted to furious, her eyes a boiling inferno, her mouth twisting into a dangerous scowl.  Gilbert doesn't even see her until she's pushing his face into the wall and pinning him against it with her body, but by then he's nothing but a snarling, angry mess and they're gone.  Lost in a fury that has no outlet.  Save, perhaps, one.
Can he help himself if her anger turns him on?  No, of course not, and why would he want to stop it anyhow?  Still, he hardly notices that little shift of arousal because he's too busy eating wood, and it takes him a few seconds to get out of the insulting hold because he really hadn't expected it.  But when he does get out of it and turns around, Rose just pushes his back against the wall instead, and Gilbert doesn't mind this position as much because he realizes what that shift of arousal is doing to him.  And speaking of eating wood, he's got a lovely feeling that he'll be making her sample some, too.
But Rose has other plans for the night, most of which involve kicking his ass down the six flights of stairs that delve off into the darkness to their immediate right.  She glares at him, their faces inches from each other, and even though he's taller than her she still looks fairly intimidating.  And really, what can he do?  What can he do when she's got her body pressed against his, when they're totally alone in the dark, when they're stuck here anyway with all that delicious hot blistering wicked anger?
He kisses her.  Rose immediately makes a disgruntled noise and tries to jerk back, but his hands are already tangling into her hair and he's pulling her in for more.  His mouth is already taking her down and devouring her senselessly and clashing angrily against hers.  And it is a clash, that kiss.  It's nothing but teeth and snarls and fury.  It's not at all romantic and not even a little bit gentle, but God it feels good.  And even Rose has to admit that it isn't the worst kiss she's ever had.  The anger she feels dives into a furious arousal that overcomes her far too quickly, but she fights it off because she wants to see how far Gilbert will take this.  How much he'll make her crazy with his semi-forced kisses and his own angry desire.
"You bastard - " she tries to hiss, but her words are immediately swallowed and muffled and they turn into a vibrating mess that can't be understood.  And Gilbert is growling and his hands are slipping away from her head because he'd like to touch her in other places, too.  He moves to roughly squeeze her butt, heaving her against the bulge in his trousers and bucking his hips against her.  She bites her lip but he can't see the reluctant passion in her eyes, because he's too busy marking red kisses down her neck and over her collarbone.  His fingers are shifting over the back of her dress and then he's hastily jerking at the zipper of it, tugging it down before she can stop him and struggling to get the fabric off. 
But Rose won't go down without a fight.  She snarls and tries to keep the fabric on, and Gilbert doesn't appreciate it because the next moment, he's slamming her against the wall and victoriously eyeing the heap of her clothes, which are kicked away before any more complaints can be voiced.
He pins her body with his, overcoming all her struggles.  He inhales them, loves them, enjoys the way she squirms at his touch and tries to bat his hands away from her.  Because a part of him knows that she's not really against this, that she's only putting up a fight for the sake of it all.  He can see how much she likes his touches and his kisses and his rough handling of her.  He can see it in her eyes as she stares sightlessly at the ceiling.  He can see it in the way she haplessly grasps at his shirt and bites her lip and swallows her moans.
His mouth descends angrily on her breast, and he's not gentle, not even a little bit.  His teeth clash against her skin and his kisses are harsh sucks that make her red and delirious.  If someone hears them, or happens to be coming home late tonight and is coming their way, there is literally no place to hide.  But in a way, the knowledge of this makes Rose all the crazier, and she sinks and trembles against the wall.  She trembles even more when Gilbert forces her panties down with both hands and curls his fingers around her rear, stroking over her heat and circling his hips against hers at the same time.
He's so hard, and it feels so good, and all Rose really wants is for him to sink himself inside her and just take her already.  But then she remembers that she's supposed to be angry with him, and that they're fighting, and that Gilbert is really just taking advantage of the situation to get her back and to dissipate her anger.  That thought makes her mad.  She snaps her eyes open and looks up at her brusque lover, who is now blinking at her, inches away.  But he's distracted, distracted by the way his hips are roiling over hers, distracted by the way she's making his trousers wet with her arousal.  He's distracted and Rose decides to act.
A moment later, she's hooking her ankle around his and jerking it to the side.  He stumbles, surprised, and she twists him around and pushes him against the wall again.  Before he can get his bearings back, she's swiftly undoing his belt and thrusting her hand into his trousers, wrapping her fingers around his hard cock and making him groan, sink back, melt.  Her other hand rips at his dress shirt, forcefully popping the buttons open (some clatter to the floor), and pressing harsh kisses over his skin.  Her revenge is sweet but painful, and all her harsh little kisses and bites leave Gilbert clutching at her, overcome by the heightened pleasure of having her hand around him, pumping him roughly, and her mouth doing silly things to his head. 
She is rough.  God, she's taking no mercy out on him.  His cock almost hurts from her harsh handling of it.  There's no soft friction between them, no lube to make her touches easier.  It's just her palm against his skin, dry and fierce and angry, forcing that pitiful pleasure all over him, making it capture him and swallow him whole.
"F-F-Frau - !" [2] he cries out and shudders, then glares at her because he hadn't meant to say that words so pathetically.  She doesn't stop biting over his nipple, or struggling to get his shirt out of her way, but she does look at up him and smirks.  He tries to sneer but that goes wrong for him, too, and it only makes his expression into a gratifying mess of pleasure.  The pleasure might have something to do with the way she's pinching lightly, quickly over his tip and dragging his pre-cum over her thumb.  He feels like he might burst at any moment, but he really hopes he doesn't because that would be really lackluster, coming to the painful way she thrusts him.  He wouldn't forgive himself, either.
He grits his teeth and huddles over her form, which is now kneeling before him.  She's kissing/nipping/biting over his abdomen, leaving furious red welts everywhere she goes, but it feels so God damned good that Gilbert can't even work up a complaint at how she's treating him and defiling his awesome body.  He watches her thrust her hand over him, watches her devour his skin, and mutters and helpless but annoyed, "Scheisse." [3]  Then he swallows thickly and says, "Fucking…suck me off already…Frau - !"  Because he really can't take anymore of those dry touches.  He needs her mouth, tight and wet around him.  He needs it so badly that he think he might cry.  And he would sooner kill himself than cry from this kind of torture.
Rose glares up at him, pumping his cock faster.  She watches him crumble above her, watches the way his expression is flickering with emotion and anger and helpless pleasure and pain.  But she won't give in, not the way he wants her to.  She leans in and licks over his skin by the hem of his trousers, then murmurs lowly, "First, apologize for saying that right in front of me."  She will drag an apology out of him if it's the last thing she does. 
Gilbert stares at her in surprise and annoyance and all sorts of other pitiful emotions that he'd like to ignore.  He can't believe that she is so evil, that she'd rather hear him apologize than let him come.  That she's going to use his arousal as a way to control him.  He grits his teeth and twists his mouth shut, silently telling her that he'll never apologize, at least not when she's using his cock as leverage.  Rose can't help but think that she likes this.  Likes the way he fights back and doesn't immediately give in.  She smirks.
She's already kneeling in front of him, so the next step of her wicked plan is fairly simple.  She drags his cock toward her as she thrusts her hand over it, and brings the tip of him into her mouth.  Then she sucks.  Painfully, deliciously.  And Gilbert can't stop himself from bucking his hips forward and muttering out a breathless"Gott! Du wirst mich zum kommen bringen, Frau - !" [4]  And he's about to, he's so close, but then Rose is popping her lips away from him and dragging her hand to his base slowly, so fucking slowly that absolutely no pleasure can be garnered from her touch.  There is nothing, nothing except the hopeless yearning for the end.
He's so God damned angry with her that he thinks he sees stars clouding over his vision and turning it red.  He glares down at her through his crimson eyes and tightens his grip of her hair.  Then he forces her face against his cock and she cries out a little in surprise, and a little desire too, because his shaft is suddenly rubbing against her cheek and she quite likes the sight of him.
She still wants her apology, though.  So she raises her eyebrows and turns her gaze to his cock, which strains tight and angrily into the air.  Then she looks up at his face, tilts her head, and says, "You want me to finish you off?  I'll suck you right to your finish.  You want that?"  He swallows a spike of hard desire that comes from hearing those hot words, and growls because he knows what she's doing, but he can't stop himself from nodding shortly.  He's not surprised when she doesn't give in.  She can be ridiculously stubborn.  She leans in and licks over his cock, her tongue burning wet heat against his shaft and making him see more of those stars.  But then the sliver of pleasure ends and she whispers, "Then apologize to me, Gilbert."  And she jerks away, leaving him gasping and breathless against the wall.
He doesn't like this.  He doesn't like being dominated by someone else, especially when it comes to sex.  He notices that her hand isn't really pumping him anymore.  It's just slowly dragging over him, too slowly for him to feel much pleasure, and so he decides to take advantage of her lack of power and do something about his pitiful situation.
Rose had (stupidly) thought that she'd taken the fight out of him.  But suddenly he's grasping her upper arms, dragging her into the air and pushing her against wall for the second time that night.  And their roles are reversed so quickly that Rose can barely keep track of his movements, and the fight is definitely not gone from his eyes.  Definitely not.
He pants, overcome by his sudden power, his sudden control and dominance.  He gasps because he's so fucking hard and it hurts and he's going to get her back for this.  He's going to fuck her so hard that she's going to hurt, too.  And as for her apology, it'll have to wait for now because literally all he can think of is stuffing himself as deeply into her as physically possible.
His trousers are still tight around his hips but luckily his member is very much removed from their confinements.  He jerks her legs into the air and shoves his cock against her core, rolling their arousals together and sighing at the intense pleasure it brings.  Rose arches her back and moans, feeling helpless but deliriously good, but very wary about the glint in his eye.  He smirks and mutters roughly, "Do you know how much that hurt, woman?  Having you touch me like that?  It felt like you were stripping my skin away piece by piece…"  He rolls his hips into hers again and she gasps, digs her nails into his shoulders, clutches at the dress shirt that still hangs loosely around his torso.
He'll make her crazy with his words alone, she thinks.  But it gets worse, of course it does.  This is Prussia, after all, and he wants to remind her of it.  He growls angrily, "I won't be gentle with you tonight.  I'm not gonna be gentle, Rose."  His warning is a wicked promise that makes her toes curl and she can't wait, can't wait for his roughness.  She swallows thickly as he mutters, "It's gonna hurt.  I'm gonna make you scream."  His words dive off into a smattering of his native tongue but she can barely hear him, now.  She's far too busy paying attention to the way he's suddenly stuffing his swollen head into her core.
She cries out when he snaps his hips roughly into hers, pushing her forcefully back into the wall and hilting himself completely.  He's so deep that she can feel his base against her clit and it does hurt, really badly, but God it feels good too.  Especially when he starts off at a pace that leaves her miles behind, hanging precariously against the wall and him, clinging to his body as he has his fill of her.  Takes and takes and takes and gives, too, just a little, just enough to make her whimper and press moans against his neck. 
He gasps and pushes his forehead against her hair, slamming his hips into hers and bruising her, annihilating her, making her voice rise and fall.  His cock is a fast drag against her inner walls and it makes her crazy, and she thinks she might come already and it's only been a few minutes.  But Gilbert doesn't care if she comes, he wants her to, and he kisses her cheek and jaw and ear.  His kisses are the only romantic part of their union but that's okay.  The anger behind their movements makes for an intense, numbing pleasure that's got them both moaning, clutching at each other, thrumming towards their end faster and faster.
He's going to com, too, and he lets out a desperate, "Rose…Rose…mmmm…" that makes her gasp and pant and tangle her fingers into his hair.  They're both so sensitive that it doesn't take very long, really, to find their end.  But just before Gilbert let's himself come he murmurs a half delirious apology against her hair, and it is that gentleness in the midst of all this fury that makes Rose buck her hips forward and come, too.  And their ends are rough, too, and not very fulfilling because they're still aroused, and he's still hard.  But he spills himself into her and she pants, breathless against the wall.  And it takes them all of three seconds before their mouths are angrily crashing against each other, kissing roughly and headily and crazily, clashing with pleasure and a combined need that makes them feel weightless.
"I already want you again," Rose laughs, surprised at her suddenly hearty libido.  But tonight Gilbert isn't surprised, and he won't deny her what he wants too, at least if his half hard cock as anything to say on the matter.  He growls playfully and steps away from the wall, but he doesn't realize that his legs are boneless and they stumble, together, to the floor.  Rose is laughing again and Gilbert rolls over her and shuts her up.  And suddenly it's starting all over, and their hips are pushing and their connecting again, and Gilbert is thrusting into her and surprising her and God, she's so fucking wet and he can hear every thrust.  And by the time he's had her fill of her, and her of him, the sun is beginning to color the sky with a lighter shade of blue and they've got a feeling that they've woken up their neighbors.  But neither care, because they're too busy falling into that angry, passionate sort of love that very rarely comes into existence, but has the ability to color their lives very brilliantly indeed.


[1] "Wie zu Hölle, bin ich an solch eine bescheuerte Frau geraten?" … How the fuck did I get stuck with such a dumb woman?

[2] Frau … Woman

[3] Scheisse … Shit

[4] Gott! Du wirst mich zum kommen bringen, Frau - !" … God! You'll make me come, woman - !


  1. This is what the Fangirl Federation needs.

  2. The picture isn't Prussia, it's Noiz from Dramatical Murder. xD

    1. You know what, I'm not surprised I would make a mistake like that. Not at all. Lol

    2. Hey :) I really love your writing style and especially this story is amazing. Just the german parts sounds like google translator. I hope you don't mind if I correct it. I don't want to let hang out the teacher but I want to explain. So sorry for this huge correction >.<

      [1] The way you translate it says he is stuck with a speechless women instead of stupid. Furthermore in german there isn't a literally translation for 'How the fuck'. You can say "Wie zur Hölle" (which is similar to 'what the hell' just with wie/how). The literally translation of stuck isn't really wrong but its a bad diction in german. So a vorrect sentence could be:

      "Wie zu Hölle, bin ich an solch eine bescheuerte Frau geraten?"

      [4] In this sentence is just the syntax wrong and 'Sie' is way to formal (like he would talk to his work boss). You could say:

      "Gott, Frau! Du wirst mich zum kommen bringen."
      "Gott! Du wirst mich zum kommen bringen, Frau."

      I hope you did unterstand me because I'm a native german speacker an school says my English is not the best. It is really impressive that you use a foreign language to make this story more authentic. :D

      Anyway perhaps sonetime you could write a Lemon for Senji Kyomasa from Deadman Wonderlsnd or more Aomine from Knb?? What would be great but I'm your fan doesn't matter which characters you choose :)

      Greetings, Kassiopeia

    3. Hi and thank you for the language corrections!! It took me a while to get around to editing,but I really appreciate it when native speakers help me out. It just makes the story that much better :)
      -- StrangelyOvercast

  3. Well... wasn't that just... sexy... can you do a Netherlands lemon? I've been wanting to see a good one... and another Greece, Spain and Switzerland lemon maybe? And if its no trouble, I'd like to request a 2p!Canada or 2p!America lemon