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silverfoxflowerTitle: Housewife Complex
Author:![[info]](https://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif?v=3)
silverfoxflower
Fandom: Hetalia
Genre: PWP, Het
Word Count: ~700
Pairing: Netherlands/Hungary
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: None, other than graphic het smut.
Notes: Written for this prompt in thehetalia_kink meme. Second fill.
Summary: Netherlands and Hungary have sex in her kitchen.
Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue.
“Breasts.”
“What?”
“I said, anh…breasts. That’s something new.”
Hungary felt Netherlands squeeze her chest gently, rolling her nipples against the rough fabric of the apron until they hardened. Muffling a moan, she weakly attempted to swat his hands away. “Don’t … don’t touch if you don’t like-” Hungary had to give up clawing at the offending molestation in order to stabilize herself against the counter. Holland pulled out, erection slick with her arousal, and slammed back in, groaning.
“But you’re so much tighter when I do,” He smirked, leaning over to lick the shell of Hungary’s ear. His position drove him deeper into her wet heat, making Hungary shudder with pleasure. When she began to clench around him and release throaty little gasps, Netherlands sped up his thrusts, pounding her against the kitchen counter until her hips were rubbed red.
Hungary ducked her head, sweat sliding off the dark strands of her hair. “Sorry I’m not as tight as one of ah … o-one of your girls.”
“Variety is good once-” Netherlands clenched his teeth in pain and strange, masochistic pleasure as Hungary stomped on his foot with her sensible heel.
She could kill him. Frying pan was within reach. But, if she let go of the counter her hip would be smashed into it. As it was, every thrust made the entire kitchen shiver, utensils jarring in an erratic accompaniment to their rough fucking. Then Netherlands’ hand sneaked under her skirt and thumbed her clit with one calloused thumb. (“Pubic hair, that’s new, too.”) The resulting shock of pleasure made Hungary buck, moaning wantonly.
Her body tensed in anticipation another stroke, feeling the justbarelyuncomfortable pressure of his cock (so much bigger than Prussia’s, slightly bigger than Austria’s,about the size of her frying pan handle) rubbing against the swollen sides of her sex. But Netherlands just cupped her mound, rubbing it gently with his palm and whispering filth in her ear.
Finally, when it became too unbearable, Hungary trapped his hand between her thighs and squeezed, popping bones. “Touch me, goddammit!” She screamed.
Netherlands just laughed. His sex laugh, thick with the smoke he breathed, drank on a daily basis.
With a growl, Hungary hooked her foot behind his ankle and elbowed him hard in the gut, sending him sprawling onto the tiled floor.
He was still laughing as she climbed over him, sinking down on his cock in a gloriously wet slide that made both groan.
Hungary drove the pace, this time, pinning Netherlands to the ground with her weight, hands gripping his wrists to the tile (he wondered if he could break her grasp if he tried. Probably not.) Her knees were locked around his slim hips as she rode him like one of her wild horses, grinding his ass into the tile.
Her sweat was dripping onto his face.
“Why- why are y-you fucking me in the first place- … ahhh…y-you pedophile?”
She looked so beautiful.
“It’s a … housewife thing.” Netherlands said weakly, his mind shorting out from the tight slide of their mounting, Hungary’s usual scent (wildflowers, baked bread, sunshine) becoming twisted with musk, the sight of her slim fingers furiously working over her own clit.
“Fucker.” Hungary replied, almost sweetly as she gave her hips one last, vicious, grind, sending them both over the edge. She arched as she came, throwing back her hair in a silent cry as her body rode out her orgasm, hips rolling slower, slower, milking Netherlands dry.
He watched the sun slide over her hair as they lay panting. He watched her stand, a bare quiver on the inside of her thighs. He wanted to tell her not to go.
“I don’t believe you.” Hungary smoothed down her skirt with shaking hands, turning back to the stove to check on the potatoes.
“Hmm…?” Netherlands’ answer was lazy as his eyes followed a dust mote, spinning in the sun.
“Housewife complex?”
“Only with you. “ Netherlands bared his teeth. “Thought you were a boy before, missed my chance.”
Hungary’s hand tightened on her frying pan. She could – and should - kill him for ruining her kitchen, making it smell like sex in the middle of the day, letting his semen drip down the inside of her thighs, even as she was standing there, cooking Austria’s dinner…
But then, Netherlands came and stood behind her and kissed the side of her neck.
And it was alright.
Author:
silverfoxflower Genre: PWP, Het
Word Count: ~700
Pairing: Netherlands/Hungary
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: None, other than graphic het smut.
Notes: Written for this prompt in the
hetalia_kink meme. Second fill. Summary: Netherlands and Hungary have sex in her kitchen.
Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue.
“Breasts.”
“What?”
“I said, anh…breasts. That’s something new.”
Hungary felt Netherlands squeeze her chest gently, rolling her nipples against the rough fabric of the apron until they hardened. Muffling a moan, she weakly attempted to swat his hands away. “Don’t … don’t touch if you don’t like-” Hungary had to give up clawing at the offending molestation in order to stabilize herself against the counter. Holland pulled out, erection slick with her arousal, and slammed back in, groaning.
“But you’re so much tighter when I do,” He smirked, leaning over to lick the shell of Hungary’s ear. His position drove him deeper into her wet heat, making Hungary shudder with pleasure. When she began to clench around him and release throaty little gasps, Netherlands sped up his thrusts, pounding her against the kitchen counter until her hips were rubbed red.
Hungary ducked her head, sweat sliding off the dark strands of her hair. “Sorry I’m not as tight as one of ah … o-one of your girls.”
“Variety is good once-” Netherlands clenched his teeth in pain and strange, masochistic pleasure as Hungary stomped on his foot with her sensible heel.
She could kill him. Frying pan was within reach. But, if she let go of the counter her hip would be smashed into it. As it was, every thrust made the entire kitchen shiver, utensils jarring in an erratic accompaniment to their rough fucking. Then Netherlands’ hand sneaked under her skirt and thumbed her clit with one calloused thumb. (“Pubic hair, that’s new, too.”) The resulting shock of pleasure made Hungary buck, moaning wantonly.
Her body tensed in anticipation another stroke, feeling the justbarelyuncomfortable pressure of his cock (so much bigger than Prussia’s, slightly bigger than Austria’s,
Finally, when it became too unbearable, Hungary trapped his hand between her thighs and squeezed, popping bones. “Touch me, goddammit!” She screamed.
Netherlands just laughed. His sex laugh, thick with the smoke he breathed, drank on a daily basis.
With a growl, Hungary hooked her foot behind his ankle and elbowed him hard in the gut, sending him sprawling onto the tiled floor.
He was still laughing as she climbed over him, sinking down on his cock in a gloriously wet slide that made both groan.
Hungary drove the pace, this time, pinning Netherlands to the ground with her weight, hands gripping his wrists to the tile (he wondered if he could break her grasp if he tried. Probably not.) Her knees were locked around his slim hips as she rode him like one of her wild horses, grinding his ass into the tile.
Her sweat was dripping onto his face.
“Why- why are y-you fucking me in the first place- … ahhh…y-you pedophile?”
She looked so beautiful.
“It’s a … housewife thing.” Netherlands said weakly, his mind shorting out from the tight slide of their mounting, Hungary’s usual scent (wildflowers, baked bread, sunshine) becoming twisted with musk, the sight of her slim fingers furiously working over her own clit.
“Fucker.” Hungary replied, almost sweetly as she gave her hips one last, vicious, grind, sending them both over the edge. She arched as she came, throwing back her hair in a silent cry as her body rode out her orgasm, hips rolling slower, slower, milking Netherlands dry.
He watched the sun slide over her hair as they lay panting. He watched her stand, a bare quiver on the inside of her thighs. He wanted to tell her not to go.
“I don’t believe you.” Hungary smoothed down her skirt with shaking hands, turning back to the stove to check on the potatoes.
“Hmm…?” Netherlands’ answer was lazy as his eyes followed a dust mote, spinning in the sun.
“Housewife complex?”
“Only with you. “ Netherlands bared his teeth. “Thought you were a boy before, missed my chance.”
Hungary’s hand tightened on her frying pan. She could – and should - kill him for ruining her kitchen, making it smell like sex in the middle of the day, letting his semen drip down the inside of her thighs, even as she was standing there, cooking Austria’s dinner…
But then, Netherlands came and stood behind her and kissed the side of her neck.
And it was alright.
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Date: 2011-07-23 07:24 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-07-24 02:43 am (UTC)