#hws romano x reader

[generational-atrophy]

ok like ur one of my top 3 fav hetalia request blogs so uhhh could i get the big 8 (and canada ofc) and how they cuddle???

hetalia main 8 (+ canada & prussia) affection hcs

2.0k words ~ gender neutral headcanons

tw: mention of suggestive themes, mention of alcohol

a/n: sorry this got turned into just general affection hcs. hope thats ok. also i couldnt find the original source for any of these images :sob:

America

Alfred is a very casually intimate person. His legs intertwined with yours while you game, his hand on your shoulder while you introduce him, and his hands held over yours while he shows you anything, are all common sights even before you start dating.

But once you actually get together, he doesn't get much more affectionate as much as he does touchy. Say goodbye to any personal space, as Alfred loves to manhandle you. Anytime he likes something you're wearing, he just grabs it and forces you to stand there awkwardly.

Every time he comes home from work stressed, he insists that you hold his head in your lap and pet his hair.

When the night begins, he's on the other side of the bed. But by morning, the blankets are practically all on the floor while he hugs you from behind, his face buried in your hair and his legs caging you against the sheets.

Also: he's a great hugger (: Any sickness can be ailed by drowning in his arms.  Sometimes it really does feel suffocating, he has no sense of self-control and way too much love for you to realize that it’s alarming to be tackled to the ground.

England

Arthur despises PDA. Arthur despises you knowing how much he cares. Arthur despises being vulnerable in any way. Arthur despises rainbows and sunshine. But he loves you, so he'll hold you by the waist when your head falls on his shoulder.

Most of the time, the most you'll get is a chaste kiss, only sometimes on the lips. It took him a while to even agree to share a bed because it's “unseemly“ for an unwed couple. When you do share a bed, he rarely cuddles up to you. He’s almost always an arm's length away, close but not too close.

But when he gets drunk, his real self comes out. Suddenly he's pressing soft kisses up and down your chest, his hands keeping you pressed against the bed while he whispers how much he loves you in languages he hasn't spoken in centuries.

But even when he's in his right mind, you might be able to convince him to let you sit in his lap while he reads to you. He'll deny it, but he does love it greatly. In general, he prefers holding you rather than the other way around.

France

While Francis may be incredibly affectionate, he isn't really the biggest cuddler. His physical affection comes mostly in the forms of passionate, breath-taking kisses and slow dancing. But of course, he does love having you close, so you'll end up cuddling anyway.

He loves lounging with you by his side, a nice bottle of wine readily available, while you two reminisce. His hands always find a way to snake underneath your clothing, but it's only so he can trace soft patterns on your skin, making you relax even further against him.

At night, it depends on the mood. If you're feeling needy, he'll happily pull you close to rest your head on his chest. If he's feeling needy, he'll beg for you to hold him close, to run your fingers through his hair and tell him how much you love him. But if it's the summer and he's hot, he'll kick you off the bed if you touch him.

Also, just for the record, he never lets go of your hand throughout the day. Ever. The difference between affection at home and affection in public is completely lost on Francis, so be prepared for him to pull you against him just like he would if no one was watching.

China

In terms of love languages, Yao cares much more for quality time than physical affection. But he can be prone to clingy moods, refusing to leave your side for hours at a time. During those times, it's best to just let him nuzzle his face against your neck without protest.

On the rare nights that he lets you cook, he'll hold you tight from behind. Surprisingly not just to criticize your technique, but also because he just loves how you feel pressed up against him.

When it comes to the bed, he is surprisingly cuddly. He'll ghost his hands all over your body while you're falling asleep, seemingly always in awe of your beauty. He's rarely aggressive in any way, his affection always soft and thoughtful.

(Also, he prefers cuddling without clothes. Not for even a single remotely sexual reason, but just because it's so much more intimate)

When in public, he never goes beyond brushing a hair behind your ear; but with the way he looks at you, you always feel just as loved as you would otherwise.

Russia

The moment you give him permission, Ivan is all over you. Constant kisses, constant hugs, never more than a step away, he'll be attached to your side for as long as you let him.

Anytime you two are together, he'll pull you as close as possible. Watching a movie is always done with you on his lap, no car ride is complete without his hand around your thigh, and even when you're separated, he's anxious to keep an eye on you.

Without you in his arms, he'd find it difficult to sleep. He can't get enough of watching you while your eyes flutter shut, his calloused hands running through your hair until you finally relax completely.

Every time you reach out for him first, he finds himself too flustered to speak. He's a very handsy person himself, so it's impossible to make him uncomfortable. All he can do is watch you in awe, never growing tired of the feeling of your skin against his.

Canada

Matthew's affection is always hesitant, as if he's afraid you'll break the moment his skin meets yours. He'd never do as little as hold your hand without your permission, much less pull you into a hug.

But the opposite is true when you're the one asking him for his touch. If you seem nervous, suddenly his kiss is all-consuming, taking the breath out of your lungs and causing you to stumble.

At night, he absolutely melts when you hold each other. Your hands around his waist make him shiver, and he can't stop himself from burying his face in your hair, his fingers drawing feather-light patterns into your back. But it already takes an hour of convincing to get him into bed with you, much less to get him to cuddle without him constantly asking if you’re alright.

In public, however, any affection makes him blush bright red. He can barely believe that you're alright with showing your love for him. If you were to suddenly hug him to say goodbye, it's unlikely he'd be able to pull himself away. He loves your touch, but he can't let himself indulge, the fear of your rejection making him fear getting too close.

Italy

From the moment you two met, Feliciano's hands all over you, at all times. Personal boundaries is not something he's familiar with. No matter where you are, he's grossly affectionate. He usually doesn't care whether or not you hug him back, as long as you don't reject him too bluntly. Then he'll cry. But stop nonetheless.

If you're ever insecure, he's the man to reassure you. You'll never again leave the house without tons of kisses all over your face, much less do anything without his arm around your waist.

As expected, he's also very needy. He's satisfied to just rest his head on your shoulder most of the time, but sometimes he just needs you to hold him. If you're alright with it, his designated spot is always curled up against you with his head in your lap. If you pet his hair too, he'll be yours for life.

In bed, it's the same. If you're wrapped up in each other's arms, he's happy. But if you're holding him, not too soft yet not too tight, he might just start crying. For good reasons this time.

Germany

Ludwig’s affection is always awkward, his grip is always too tight or too soft, but he does truly love being beside you. No matter how afraid he is, as soon as you pull him into a hug, he completely forgets all nervousness. But still, it’s not often he goes out of his way to do any more than rest a hand on your shoulder comfortingly.

At night, it’s the same. He wants you close, close enough that you could always wake him up if you needed to, but not close enough that you’re pressed against each other. But on those awful nights when you just need some comfort, he’s more than happy to wrap you in a bunch of blankets and hold you all night long (He won’t get any sleep, but being so protective makes him feel just as happy.)

What he lacks in physical affection, he more than makes up for in every other area. At least he always knows the best places to kiss you.

Japan

Kiku is a very private man. You knew that before you were dating, but even now, it seems like even his affection is kept to himself. You constantly see him reach for you out of the corner of your eye, before he suddenly pulls away.

He's always rather cold in public. The most you get at home is usually just a chaste kiss, too.

Except at night, when he's too overworked and sleepy to think straight, it's the opposite. Suddenly he's crawling into your arms in the dead of night, desperate and whining for your affection. Sometimes it's the opposite, his hesitant hands running over your side, careful not to disturb you as you're pulled into his embrace.

Either way, it's rare that either of you wake up without the other, strewn across the bed and buried under the mountains of blankets Kiku loves. Just don't bring it up, because he's deathly embarrassed of how much he needs your affection.

Romano

There is not a day that goes by without Romano demanding you two cuddle. In public, at home, at night, in the morning, when you're doing nothing, when you're busy... he is... quite needy when it comes to physical affection.

His favourite way to cuddle is in bed, blankets thrown wildly around the two of you, him wrapped around you and resting his head on your thighs while you play with his hair. But he's honestly not that picky as long as you're almost painfully close.

He doesn't kiss you often (especially in public, just because he's so insecure about how people see the two of you,) but when he does, it feels like something out of a movie. Your breath taken in a second, your mind going blank, your entire body seeming to melt into his effortlessly...

As time goes on, he would probably become less clingy. When you first start dating, he's so anxious to make sure you understand how much you mean to him, that he ends up overcompensating in a lot of areas... especially when it comes to affection.

But his body IS kind of perfect for cuddling, so...

Prussia

Gilbert is a very proud man, and that remains obvious in the way he touches you. He's anxious to show off your attachment in public, always having his hand intertwined tightly with yours, his eyes never leaving you no matter what.

At home, it's the same. He's not overly clingy, especially when he gets in snippy moods, but he still believes everything is better when you're by his side. His favourite thing in the world is being cuddled up on the couch, your head resting on his shoulder while he runs his fingers down your thighs, watching probably one of the worst movies ever made.

When in bed, he's a lot more needy. He tends to get cold, so he always pulls you against him. When you cling to his chest, he swears he's in heaven. But that also means it's a struggle to get up in the morning since he always insists on “just 5 more minutes.“

He's rather... grabby. His affection is usually aggressive, and sometimes a little embarrassing, but it's just because he's so desperate to show you how he really feels, beyond the silly act.

[mellifluouaamor]

⍣ | MOON EMBRACES THE SUN: CHAPTER 1

Synopsis. ( Gangsta AU ) One day, when you are cleaning the Italian brothers' house, you suddenly remember your past life - and Italy, who's supposed to be your closest companion, now feels like a stranger to you.

Pairing. Italy x Fem!Reader x Romano

Warnings. N/A

NAVIGATION

You blankly stared outside the window, eyes focused on nothing in particular. You had been in the middle of sweeping the floor in the dining room when a house sparrow flew near the window beside you, its gentle tweet capturing your attention. When you turned your head, the tiny bird perched itself on a lamp post, tilting its head adorably at you. You weren't sure what was so interesting about a mere sparrow, but an inexplicable force compelled you to gaze upon it, as if you were hypnotised. Even after the bird had flown away, you stayed rooted to your spot, staring ahead as unfamiliar yet familiar scenes flashed before your eyes.

There was a young girl walking down a street.

'Who is that?' you thought, knitting your eyebrows together.

She was staring at the rectangular metal object emitting light in her hand, unaware of her surroundings. She then stopped near the side of the road, where thick white stripes lead to the other side.

You watched her every movement in anticipation, gripping the broom tightly until your knuckles turned white.

The girl then looked up and proceeded to cross the road, before lowering her eyes to the object in her hand again. Unbeknownst to her, a large metal mount was speeding in her direction, seemingly disoriented with how it was swerving from side to side recklessly.

Your heart hammered against your ribcage as you mentally screamed at the girl to move. You didn't know how, but you knew, at that moment, she was going to die.

Her attention was diverted to the incoming danger far too late. She froze like a deer trapped in headlights, her pupils dilating at the truck that seemed to be getting bigger - getting closer, charging towards her like an enraged bull.

Her phone flew out of her grasp as a sickening thud resounded through the area.

A grenade suddenly exploded on one side of your body; an invisible wrecking ball of metal and glass slammed into your shoulder, tearing a scream out of your throat as you dropped on the floor. The broom slipped out of your grasp and clattered next to your writhing body, tiny diamonds of sweat beading on your forehead. You let out choked gasps as you clawed at your chest; your head was pounding, it felt as if your ribs were broken, your lungs punctured... It was so painful. You felt the agonising pain the girl in those flashbacks experienced in her final moments, and you knew the reason.

You were that girl - you had died once.

And at this moment, you're a fictional character who technically doesn't exist in the world of Hetalia, an anime with characters that are personified countries, regions and micronations. As more memories rushed in like a tidal wave, you realised that you're in the Gangsta alternate universe, a dystopian Pangea where instead of countries, there are 200 districts ruled by mobsters and represented by their representatives, with the world being a lot more punk and grunge-like.

What you had once thought was impossible turned out to be the opposite, and you were living proof of the transmigration phenomenon.

Your mind was pulled back to the present when a pair of gentle hands frantically lifted your upper body from the floor, rolling you over so that your shoulder blades rested upon their arm; you didn't even notice that somebody had rushed into the dining room after hearing your outburst. Through the tears blurring your vision, you saw a youthful face framed by short brown hair, with an odd curl lightly bouncing on the left side of his head.

"Bella, are you alright? I heard you scream from the next room!"

A man's voice. It took you a few seconds to recognise who he was, and once you did, you shakily fisted his brown waistcoat, causing a look of concern to furrow his brow.

"M-Mr Italy," you whimpered, almost whining his name. His cheeks flushed faintly at your response. Swallowing the fluttering embarrassment, he raised the hand that wasn't supporting your back to cup over yours that's clinging to him. He gently eased his digits between the gaps of your fingers, coaxing you to relax.

"It's alright," he assured you, his soft brown eyes gazing at you kindly, "I'm here." He wasn't exactly sure what had happened to you, but he could tell that you needed some comfort at the moment, especially with how you seemed to be in pain. Wrapping his fingers around your wrist, Italy brought your hand up to his mouth before gingerly planting his lips against your palm with his eyes closed. Your breathing hitched in your throat, your pulse pulsating against his lips. He then pulled away after a beat or two, smiling down at you.

Feeling your nerves calming, the mental exhaustion from your previous episode finally caught up to you and your eyelids fluttered shut. As the strength left your hand, your entire body went limp in his arms, causing panic to rise in his chest. Hugging you tightly against him, Italy turned his head to the doorway with desperation etched on his face.

"Fratello! Fratello, please help!" he cried out. As if on cue, heavy footfall approached the dining room, followed by the muttering of a grumpy Italian. He huffed as he stalked through the doorway, hands shoved deep in his pockets.

"What is it, idiot brother?! What did you-" Romano stopped abruptly, his eyes widening at the sight of your unconscious self being cradled in his younger brother's arms. After getting over his initial shock, he shuffled closer to the two of you before kneeling down, concern swirling in his hazel hues.

"What happened to the ragazza?" he asked, his voice taking on a calmer tone. Italy shook his head.

"I don't know... I heard her scream just now and when I came to check on her, she was on the floor... She looked like she was in a lot of pain," the younger brother answered quietly, sounding as if he was on the verge of tears.

With a long, drawn-out sigh, Romano carded his hair with his fingers. "Let her rest in her room... and make sure to close and lock all the windows."

Nodding, Italy wrapped an arm around your shoulders and hooked an arm under your knees, before lifting you off the floor with a surprising amount of strength. He carefully shifted you around in his arms to guide your head to his chest, and then walked past Romano to bring you to your room, where he laid you down on the bed. After tucking you in, he sat on the edge of your bed, his gaze never leaving your form. He hoped that you're alright and that you'll tell him what transpired before he found you in that state. Letting out a muted sigh, he gingerly brushed away the stray strands of hair from your forehead, resolving to stay by your side until you've woken up.

An hour later, you regained consciousness. Hearing soft snores beside you, you rolled your head to the side and lifted your eyelids to find Italy asleep next to you with his head resting atop his folded arms. One of his hands was lightly grasping yours, and it was only then did you register his warmth against your skin. When you slowly slipped your hand out of his and propped yourself on your elbows, he was stirred by the subtle movements. Eyelids fluttering open, the Italian raised his head from his arms, yawning rather cutely.

"(Y/n)?" he murmured, noticing that you're awake. His face immediately lit up, and you could have sworn you saw the curl in his hair bob up and down. "You're up! Are you okay?" He made a move to hug you but you instinctively flinched out of his reach, making him falter. He looked at you curiously, realising that you're avoiding his touch. You didn't know why you did it either; in this life, you're closer to Italy than you were to Romano, so why do you feel unfamiliar with him, like he's a stranger to you? You averted your eyes, puzzled by your own actions. You tried to remember the times Italy conjured up a sense of comfort and security when the two of you were together, but found yourself struggling. The details were vague, blurry - as if there was a mist in your mind. You held your head, your heart thumping against your chest in slight panic.

Why was it so hard to remember?

"What's the matter?" he asked, drawing you out of your thoughts, "Why won't you look at me?" His voice carried a hint of hurt which prompted your gaze to drift back to him.

"I... I'm sorry, I..." you said, trailing off. Not knowing what to say to him, your threw the blanket off your body and slid off the other side of the bed. Before Italy could stop you, you had already scampered out of the room, leaving a confused and saddened Italian behind.

"Bella...?" he softly called, hoping that you'd return through the doorway - but only silence answered him.

CHAPTER 2

[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.

[merbear25]

LITERALLY BEGGING ON MY KNEES, can you do another part bodyworship headcanons with russia and romano

best boys NEED more love

Idk what happened but these came out much longer than I anticipated. And yes, they need more love! Hope you like them 💜💜

CW: NSFW, MDNI, gn!reader, headcanons, body worship, fluffy smut, some slightly rough, oral sex (male receiving), praising

Body worshiping them (Russia, Romano)

Russia

Oh he was incredibly shy when it came to showing his body. That didn’t mean that he was necessarily insecure, though. He simply preferred to keep things more private.

However, you were one of the few who really made containing himself strenuous. Despite that light blush across his cheeks as you touched him in ways only you were allowed, he had a burning desire raging within him.

Your soft hands rubbing his thighs, your gentle words of praise pulling him closer, and the look of mutual want dancing in your eyes: he was completely under your spell, although he went willingly.

“You’ve been working so hard lately.” 

He nodded at your soothing tone, his eyes fluttering shut as your hands rubbed his chest. 

“Let me take care of you for a change.” As your words still hung on your lips, your hands pulled at his shirt. 

While you unbuttoned them quickly, his breaths began coming out in desperate shakes. He moved his hips closer to you, urging you to give him attention where he needed it most.

Those lips of yours left a fire in their wake as they trailed down his bare chest. He made an attempt to silence his whimpers by biting his lip, but there was no masking the intense need he held towards you.

He shivered slightly as your hands lovingly roamed over his chest and stomach before eventually tending to the bulge pressing against his pants.

Releasing his length from its confinement, your eyes fluttered up to his. A soft purr came from you when met with his blushing cheeks and needy expression.

“You look so cute right now.” The soft compliment couldn’t be helped; you wanted him to know just how darling he looked for you in that moment.

As you took him in your mouth, you could feel his body tensing. A choked moan passed his lips the more of him you pushed deeper.

Feeling your hands grasp his thighs, hearing his lustful pants and groans: the desire to give him everything became overwhelming.

Even though he was mostly gentle with you, there were times he craved a rough edge to intimacy. He gripped the back of your head while giving a feeble “sorry” before he started thrusting harder. Your gags were controlled for the time being, but with his size filling your mouth more and more frantically, you were quickly reaching your limit.

The choked gasps and gags coming from you were enough to send him over the edge, painting your darling face and pretty lips with ropes of his cum. Looking down at you with immense satisfaction, he affectionately stroked your hair. The adoration he had towards you wasn’t always shown verbally; sometimes it was communicated through a soft touch.

Romano

Being a man who was far from comfortable showing his more vulnerable side, the tenderness that came with body worship took him far out of his comfort zone. 

He wanted to present himself as a macho man, one who didn’t crumble under such silly yet sincere praises or laughable yet longing touches—he craved this in actuality, though would never admit it.

The mood would have to hit him just right, as well. That edge he usually carried around with him put a damper on that sweet loving he needed deep down.

That being said when you were already wrapped up in each other’s arms in a seemingly innocent cuddle session, he was quite susceptible to your gentle praises.

“It feels so nice holding you like this.” This statement was enough to make him blush. Trying to hide his smile, he buried his face in your hair and pulled you closer.

The physical closeness gave you an obvious hint as to how he felt about your little words. Feeling his hard arousal against your leg, you didn’t want to withhold the affection he was clearly desperate for.

Your hands rubbed his hips before moving up his back. A shiver washed over his body, giving you more incentive to keep going.

His body got hot quickly, more so when he was aroused. Seeing him get like this from just your words made your heart swell for him. He was far too precious like this, but it wasn’t like you could just come right out and say that. Instead, you needed to bide your time, letting each part fall delicately.

As your hands roamed over his back, chest, and stomach, his grip on you tightened.

“You feel so warm.” A sigh of contentment followed your words, giving him all the more reason to open himself up to your own warmth.

The pressure against his shorts got you thinking he must be in some discomfort; the poor thing was aching for you to feel him. When you slid them off, he pulled his face away from the tight embrace. Watching you intently, he gasped as your hand wrapped around him. Whines of pleasure flowed past his lips with ease the more you stroked him.

You looked up at him and he instantly knew what you wanted. His face burned red at the mere thought, but he couldn’t deny how badly he wanted it too. With a slight, nearly bashful nod, he obliged to your mutual desires.

As soon as your tongue touched him, his hands instinctively went to place themselves on your head. He hesitated though, not wanting to appear too eager or worse—forceful. But, you were already doing such a good job. Your arms wrapped around him, your hands were caressing his trembling form as he neared the edge. His fingers timidly tangled in your hair as you worked him in all the ways he was desperate for. With an unabashed cry of release, his cum filled your mouth to the brim.

Despite his slight embarrassment, he still yearned for that intimacy from earlier. Wrapping each other up in an embrace again was the balm to his soul he’d never admit he needed.

[crimson-kisses]

Hi hello good evening!! I have been lurking about for quite some time and i honestly love your writing!!

If it's not too much, could you give us a crumb of yandere romano?? 👀 some general headcanons or whatever you're in the mood for??

Have a lovely day!!

Piccolo regalo

Characters/Fandoms/Pairings: Yandere! Lovino Vargas || Romano [Hetalia] x Fem!reader

Warning: This story will contain xplicit yandere themes, proceed with caution [includes non consensual acts, toxic relationship, the like]

Author's notes: Lovino has definitely been in my mind lately, so have this little snippet I wrote up in a hurry. This was inspired by this piece by @yanderehetaliadrabbles 🌻🐝~~~♡

Also, remember that lot has been going around the world lately, try to educate yourself and contribute as much as you can.

The kitchen was infused with the enticing aroma of sizzling eggplant as you carefully fried the golden slices in a pan, observing as they reached the perfect balance of tenderness and crispiness.

On any other day, you would have joyfully taken a few bites, turned on the radio to sway to some tunes, and effortlessly navigated the kitchen to gather ingredients and clean up. However, today, sombre thoughts preoccupied your mind, leaving you focused solely on the task at hand.

A slight frown took on your lips as you adjusted the ribbon, holding back your hair. Yeah, you weren't really in the mood for swaying around and being carefree.

An almost alarming smell caught your attention as you instinctively set the fried eggplant slices aside on a plate lined with paper towels to drain. Slightly burnt but not too much to be concerned about.

Mistakes happen, and nothing is too perfect. It was the bitter truth, and one you accepted as you continued with the preparation of the dish.

Nothing is too perfect. Mistakes were human. You almost vividly recalled the countless times you'd watched your nonna prepare this beloved dish. She seemed to be so perfectly superior in her skills, but you remember her laughing about her own mistakes in her childhood when it was your time to take on the kitchen.

People weren't perfect, and no matter how superior or skilled they seemed, they were bound to slip up. That was being human. Humans weren't perfect, and neither were relationships.

Wiping your hands on your apron, you turned your attention to the tomato sauce, a crucial component that would add depth and richness to the dish. You tried not to think, think, and think. But you were always such a feisty smart ass for your own good.

Perhaps that extended to everything else as well. Ah, were you so blindsided by love that you couldn't see the signs any sooner? The cracks in your lover until it was too late? Maybe it was because he seemed so perfect. Someone who could love you despite the edges you had and cherish all your faults. He was too perfect to be human.

Trying to suppress the shaking of your hand, you sautéed onions and garlic in a seperate pot until translucent, then added canned tomatoes, letting the mixture simmer and thicken to perfection.

But he wasn't even human, and neither was he perfect. Nothing can be too perfect for everyone.

You tightened the apron around your waist, opening the curtains wider, allowing a strong beam of sunlight to flood the kitchen. The golden rays illuminated the room, casting a warm glow on the countertops and appliances. Outside, the gentle rustling of olive trees could be heard and seen, their branches heavy with ripe olives ready for harvest.

To Romano though, you were perfect. Too perfect maybe, your confident suave nature resonated well with him, balancing his fiery intense attitude. Mostly what pulled you both together though was pure passion for things you both loved. Both of you were so supportive and protective of each other, even embracing the faults.

With the eggplant fried and the tomato sauce ready, it was time to assemble the layers. You reached for a baking dish and spooned a layer of the tomato sauce onto the bottom, spreading it evenly to coat the surface.

You still loved him, despite all his issues, insecurities, and stubbornness. Your sly antics countered his flirty attempts, coolly challenging him and keeping him on his toes. The tango you initiated with him was a dance of passion and tension, French kisses after deep arguments were common, a way to your love amidst the conflicts. To you, he was perfect, but maybe that love still wasn't enough for him.

Next came a layer of the fried eggplant slices, their golden-brown hue a testament to their perfect crispiness. You sprinkled a generous amount of grated Parmesan cheese over the eggplant, the sharpness of the cheese promising to balance the sweetness of the tomatoes.

Your thoughts raced as you continued with the cooking. Memories of family gatherings, moments with your nonna, and times with friends seemed distant, almost as if they belonged to another lifetime. Ever since you were told, forced to stay in this secluded house in the Southern countryside, those memories felt even more remote.

The layering process continued, each addition of eggplant, tomato sauce, and cheese building upon the last, creating a beautiful and delicious mosaic of flavors and textures. You added the final layer of tomato sauce and mozzarella cheese to your favorite traditional dish.

The setting was undeniably idyllic, the kind that would make your mamma gush over its charm, and your zie would nod approvingly, pleased that you had finally settled down. Despite its beauty, you couldn't shake off the feeling of complete isolation, the sense of being disconnected from the world you once knew.

With the assembled dish in the oven, the kitchen filled with the comforting aroma of baked cheese and tomatoes. As you waited, your thoughts drifted once again to Lovino. He was the kind of man who would eat anything if you made it. Not that you would not threaten to poison his food if he didn't learn to appreciate what you cooked.

Nonetheless, you prepared some Caponata as a side dish knowing that's what Lovino preferred. Perhaps the sweet and sour taste resonated well with his personality.

You snorted in amusement. Asshole.

Setting the dining table, you poured some homemade Limoncello into a chilled glass. Placing it on a tray, you carefully set it on the dining table, beside the plated Caponata. Moments later, you retrieved the fragrant Melanzane alla Parmigiana from the oven, its baked cheese and tomato aroma filling the kitchen.

With oven mitts protecting your hands, you placed the hot dish on a trivet and proudly set it on the table, completing the meal for you and Lovino.

Placing your hands on your waist, you apprehensively glanced at the clock. He had said he would be coming home early today during the phone call, and judging by his tone, you assumed his mood was sour. Lately, this had become quite common, and it always made you tense when he seemed to be brimming with anger. The anticipation of his arrival weighed on you, adding an underlying tension to the otherwise peaceful atmosphere in the house.

There was a reason, you were trapped in the house he had bought for the both of you. Could you escape? Quite easily, but only physically for a short amount of time. Being a family woman, with close ties with other people, it put everything and everyone you loved at a dangerous risk.

You loved too deep, too passionately, too traditionally, and that love of yours kept you in shackles. That love which Lovino was possessive of. Lovino would easily find you, and he had already proved that your family and friends would pay the price if you stepped out of line. Heavily, and you couldn't bear that.

After all, how could you escape the grasps of a man who had been here for centuries? He knew every nook and corner, had legal and illegal ties which would be fatal.

The door opens with a thud, causing you to rise on your toes in startlement. You see your lover stumble in, clearly heavily intoxicated. His unsteady gait and slurred speech confirm your suspicions. Soon after, the sound of a car starting up can be heard, gradually fading as it drives away from the house, leaving behind an uneasy silence.

You wished you were in that car, far away from this isolated place. Perhaps, you could ask Lovino to take you out, once he is stable enough of course.

Nonetheless, pulling up your dress slightly to hasten your steps, you briskly walk towards him in concern. Your hands instinctively reach out to steady the stumbling man as he gives you a lopsided smirk, his eyes glazed and unfocused.

Lovino places his hands on your waist, pulling you closer to his intoxicated form. His shirt is disheveled, and you tug on it to help balance him properly, feeling the warmth of his breath and the weight of his body leaning against you.

Both of you stumble awkwardly after hastily closing the door. Before you can react further, Lovino pushes you up against the counter, causing your breath to hitch in surprise. You give him a level-headed stare, trying to convey your concern and irritation. However, he places a finger on your lips as you attempt to speak, effectively silencing you and adding to the tension between you two.

"Lovi, this—" your tone biting, you gesture sharply with your hands, fingers fiddling with the hem of his shirt, "is enough. Dinner is ready, and you are beyond drunk." Your eyes dart around, searching his face for answers.

All you find is overflowing love and a sense of lust swimming around his eyes. "Where have you been? Didn't you have some work today?" You finish with a sigh, placing a hand on his arm, furrowing your brows in concern.

God, you cared for this man so deeply. How could you not? You doubted you could ever stop caring for him, but sometimes you just didn't know what to do with him.

A flinch escapes you when you feel his fingers trace your jawline, skimming through the strands of your hair. His touch lingers for a moment, a slight frown forming on his lips. You wondered what was he thinking of.

"What's the matter, darling? Didn't you miss me, huh?" he mumbles incoherently, the furrows between his brows deepening along with his frown.

His eyes narrow as he bends closer to your neck, taking in your scent slowly. His hands, initially tentative, find their place around your shoulders, gripping slightly as he breathes deeply for a moment. He seems to be seeking comfort, trying to find solace in your presence.

But you can't seem to give him that, something in you doesn't know where to even start. Your fingers start to grip his shoulders as you let out a shudder, your lips almost ghost over his, hesitant and unsure.

"Mio amore, you have no idea how much I wanted to be with you today," Lovino starts, his voice carrying a hint of weariness. He grimaces disdainfully as he recalls his day, "After such a long day with a room full of idiotic bastards."

You couldn't help but grow more concerned, but chose to remain silent about it. As Lovino, had never liked you defending them, even if it was fair enough, given his attitude. There was always some drama at his workplace, especially regarding his personal relationships.

Pausing for a moment, he takes a deep breath, his eyes softening as they meet yours. "All the time, I was thinking of you," he confesses, reaching out to gently brush a strand of hair from your face.

His hands, with an urgency you haven't felt in a while, snake around your waist with firm grip, drawing you irresistibly close to him. "Tesoro," he murmurs softly, the term of endearment rolling off his tongue, filled with affection. The weight of his desire is palpable, and you find yourself pressed tightly against his chest.

He breathes heavily, his warm breath brushing against your skin as he leans down, capturing your lips with an intensity that leaves you breathless. "Amore mio," he whispers against your lips, his voice husky with emotion. The world seems to fade away, leaving just the two of you in this passionate moment.

A startled noise escapes you, surprised by the suddenness and strength of his grip. As he deepens the kiss, his arms tighten around you, lifting you slightly off your feet. "Bella," he murmurs, pulling you even closer, the intensity of his emotions leaving you breathless. You could taste the alcohol on his lips.

"Wait, dinner is--", you start to say, your voice trailing off as Lovino emits an annoyed grunt. He pulls back slightly, his eyes narrowing as they lock onto yours, covered in a haze.

His hands grip yours, which remain on his chest, bringing them to his lips. He messily pecks every inch of your delicate skin, affectionately raw.

"Dinner can wait, I cannot," he declares firmly, his voice laced with urgency and unmistakable desire. The atmosphere between you two thickens, the dim light casts soft shadows on his face, highlighting the longing in his eyes. His fingers gently trace your jawline, a silent plea for you to stay in this intimate moment just a little longer.

He had always been drawn to your argumentative nature; he liked his women confident, assertive, yet elegant and romantic. The intoxicating affection between you was often mixed with passionate disputes and petty fights. That was just how he liked it. He wanted to see you angry with him, and then to have you care for him, let him take care of you, picking up the pieces both of you had scarred and kiss it right.

But now. He didn't have the patience for that, he had always been selfish, possessive when it came to you. He needed your love, a reminder marked onto his skin.

He needed to feel your unwavering love, even with all his flaws, trusting that you wouldn't forsake him, like everyone else always had, just as he would never dream of leaving you behind. He sought to drown his insecurities in the depths of your love and trust. By loving you, he hoped to discover his worth and find a place of significance in your heart. He wanted to be everything you would ever need. To be enough.

And never be cast aside once again.

Lovino needed you. Right at this moment, dinner left at the table to be eaten later right after both of you have devoured each other and Lovino had forgotten the outside world.

Instead, curses erupted from his lips as a kick was aimed at his shin, causing him to stumble back from the force of your push. He hissed and gripped the place where you had hit him, rubbing it and breathing harshly through gritted teeth. You took the opportunity to slip past him, your steps hurried and uneven as you moved toward the staircase.

For a moment, he stood there, his chest rising and falling with each ragged breath, the anger in his eyes simmering just below the surface. But it didn’t take him long to regain his momentum. His gaze followed you, and his expression darkened as he saw you with your back pressed against the wall near the staircase, your eyes peering at him through your lashes—a look filled with defiance and a hint of fear.

It made his chest ache, a sharp pang that twisted deep within him. You weren't supposed to look at him like that. You were supposed to be different. His lady. His treasure. His will to live. And yet, here you were, pushing him away when he needed you most. His frustration grew, an unspoken plea in his eyes, silently begging you to come back, to understand.

For a moment, he went blank, his hazy stare fixed on your disheveled form. Your hair was tousled, a wild halo framing your flushed face, a blush creeping across your skin. Even in your attempt at a glare, there was something undeniably alluring about you—the way your chest rose and fell with each breath, the fire in your eyes still burning. He found himself lost in the sight, his thoughts wandering back to the bar he had just left.

The memories were blurred, clouded by the haze of alcohol, but one thing was certain: he had been thinking of you the entire time. He thought of the faces around him, of meaningless conversations and laughter that left him hollow. None of it mattered, not when the only thing he wanted was to be here, with you, where every emotion, every moment felt real and raw.

But there was more to it, always more. The familiar feeling of being lost crept in, like a dark shadow lurking in the corner of his mind. He felt empty, hollow, as if his own sense of self was slipping away. Insecurity crawled under his skin, a sickly sensation, and tension coiled around his veins like barbed wire, cutting deeper with every thought. Fear gripped him—a fear that seemed to grow stronger every day. Fear of losing himself, of losing you.

He was terrified, the idea of being abandoned haunting him like a specter. Today, Antonio had managed to piss him off more than usual. The bastard had somehow found out about your existence. His former mentor, acting as if he had the right to give advice. But all Lovino felt was cold anger simmering in his veins, a rage he could barely contain. No one should know about you. No one had the right. What if someone tried to steal you away? What if he lost you because he wasn’t good enough?

The thought tormented him. Antonio could easily sweep you away with his charm. Francis could woo you with his words, his elegance. Even Gilbert, with his reckless charm and sharp wit, could draw you away. The fear felt like a hand tightening around his throat, suffocating him with the sheer terror of losing you. You, his only solace, his anchor in a world that always seemed to be against him. Forgot him.

You were his rose, prickled with thorns but ever blooming and vibrant. No other person could ever compare to the way you made him feel. Unlike the others, you didn’t irritate him or make him feel small; you didn’t belittle him with words or make him feel unimportant, discardable. With you, he felt seen, understood, cherished.

You were the one who didn't mock his insecurities or laugh at his temper. Instead, you stood by him, firm but gentle, seeing past his rough edges to the man beneath. With you, he could breathe, truly breathe, without the constant fear of being judged or cast aside. Every smile you gave him was a balm to his soul, every touch a reassurance that he wasn't alone, that he was worth something more.

But now, those very thoughts—the ones that lifted him from his darkest moments—were twisting into knots of doubt and fear. The possibility of losing you was tearing at him, the mere idea of it ripping open old wounds that never seemed to heal. And that thought, the cold reality of it, terrified him more than anything else in the world.

Because he wasn’t—and never would be—enough. For anyone. He was filled with faults, weighed down by his mistakes, and always fell short. Never just enough, always the second choice. Always.

That gnawing fear haunted him, creeping into the corners of his mind like a shadow that wouldn't dissipate. It told him he wasn't worth loving, that he could never hold on to anything good, that even you—his precious rose—would eventually see through him and slip away. The fear clawed at his insides, twisting his heart with every breath he took.

His hands clenched into fists, his jaw set tight as he fought against the growing panic. He couldn't lose you, not when you were the only one who made him feel alive, who made the world seem a little less empty. Not when you were the only person who saw something in him worth saving.

“Lovino—” you began, your voice wavering as you pressed yourself further against the wall, your hands searching for something—anything—to steady your trembling form. His name escaped your lips like a fragile whisper.

He took a step forward, unsteady but determined. His gaze never wavered from you, eyes dark with frustration, longing, and something more—something deeper and more unsettling. His breath was ragged, the scent of alcohol lingering in the air as he closed the distance between you, each step causing your heartbeat to quicken, your chest tightening with fear and something else you couldn’t quite place.

"Don't... don't come any closer," you managed to choke out, but your words seemed to fall on deaf ears as he continued, his stare locking you in place, making you feel both trapped and exposed.

He gives off an unsettling grin, mostly lopsided, as he inches even closer. "What's the matter, bella? Don’t I make you feel so good?" His voice is low and mocking, dripping with a twisted sort of affection. Sultry, enough to make you melt.

Heat rushes to your cheeks at the memories his words conjure, flashes of nights filled with soft murmurs and tangled sheets, moments when his touch was all-consuming and left you breathless. Lovino knew how to please his women. But now, that same touch feels different—possessive and heavy, like a storm cloud hanging overhead.

Fear still rests cold and lumpy in your stomach, winding tighter with each of his steps. You swallow hard, trying to keep your composure, but the grin on his face only widens, sensing the effect he has on you. His eyes trail over your flushed skin, every flicker of emotion you can’t hide.

He leans in closer, his breath hot against your ear as his hand presses firmly beside your head, trapping you against the wall. His eyes are locked on yours, watching every flicker of emotion like a predator stalking its prey. As you try to inch away, he matches your movement, trailing you step for step, making escape up the stairs impossible.

His other hand slowly moves to the hem of your dress near your neck, fingers brushing the fabric with an infuriating slowness, savouring each nervous gulp and the way your thighs shift uneasily He seems to drink in your reaction, his grin widening with every twitch and squirm. There’s a knowing look in his eyes, one that seems to say he understands you more than you understand yourself. Your expressions are open to him, revealing every thought, every emotion like a movie playing out just for his viewing.

Soon enough, you gasp as his hands curl around your thighs, lifting you slightly, pressing his body firmly between them. His lips trail along your neck, planting fervent kisses, each one more desperate than the last. Your head tilts back instinctively, exposing the soft skin to his hungry mouth. Soft, vulnerable moans escape your lips, betraying the conflicted feelings simmering within you, while your hands find his shoulders, gripping tightly as if to anchor yourself amidst the whirlwind of sensations.

"Tell me, mia cara," he murmurs, voice thick with need, his breath hot against your skin, "tell me how good I make you feel." His words are almost a growl, laced with a desperate need to settle down his hunger.

"Lovi— I can't ri—" you begin, but your words are abruptly cut off as a sharp cry escapes your lips. Lovino bites down on the exposed skin of your neck, his teeth grazing just enough to send a jolt through your body. A low groan rumbles from his chest as he pulls back slightly, his breaths heavy, and his hand creeps toward the neckline of your dress, fingers tracing along the fabric with a deliberate slowness. His face inches back, frustration evident in the furrow of his brows.

"Why… why aren't you wearing the dress I gave you, huh?" he mutters, his voice tinged with irritation, his eyes searching yours for an answer. His hand tightens its grip on your waist as he leans in to kiss you, but you turn your head to the side, denying him.

A flicker of hurt flashes across his face, quickly replaced by a deeper frown. "Che diavolo, why won't you look at me?" His voice trembles with a mix of anger and insecurity, his hands trembling slightly as they hover near your cheek, longing to pull you back in, to have you only for himself.

You can't.

You feel him pull away, only to grab your hands again, a rough grip as he drags you up the stairs, His grip tightens around your wrist, knuckles white, dragging you up the winding stairs, each step echoing like the drumbeat of your heart as you stumble, half-carried, half-pulled into the darkness of the bedroom.

Your heart pounds in your chest, a storm of conflicting emotions. You love him — desperately, hopelessly — but you can't.

You can't keep on giving, not when he's already taken so much from you, threatening to consume your very soul with his burning need for love, for your love. How much more could you give? How much until you weren't enough for him anymore?

He yanks you into the bedroom, his movements hurried, almost frantic, as he begins to tug at the fabric of your dress. His eyes are wild, his lips twisted into a scowl. "You know... I never liked that damn cousin of yours," he mutters darkly, voice dripping with disdain. "The color doesn’t even suit your beauty."

You flinch at the venom in his tone, your glare meeting his. "It was given with love, Lovi," you retort, voice firmer than you feel. "He’s like a brother to me."

The word "brother" seems to pierce him like a knife. You see his expression darken, his jaw clenching tightly. You know he despises that word, especially after the disastrous encounter you had with his own brother, holding nothing but a deep-seated disdain for him. His grip tightens on the fabric of your dress, and you can feel the anger radiating from him, a hot, intense wave that seems to make the room feel smaller, the air heavier.

Lovino's breath is ragged as he looms over you, his hand curling around your waist possessively. "Don’t speak of him," he hisses, eyes narrowing into slits. "He won't love you like I do. No one does. And I won’t let anyone think they can even think of you that way."

Confusion grips you as Lovino's slurred words tumble out, his meaning obscured by the fog of alcohol. What is he talking about?The realization hits you suddenly — he’s drunk, and his mind is weaving together unrelated memories. it's clear he's thinking of his brother or that former mentor you've never even met.

He starts tugging at your dress, his movements frantic and almost clumsy. The fabric slips from your shoulders, pooling around your feet. A flash of panic surges through you — your heart pounds as you instinctively cross your arms over your chest, trying to cover yourself. But Lovino’s hands are quick, his fingers hot against your skin as they grip your waist, yanking you back toward him.

“Non farlo,” he growls, voice taut with frustration. “Don’t. I’m just trying to love you... Why do you keep pulling away?” There’s a raw edge to his tone, a strain that makes you shiver. His grip tightens on your sides, and you feel trapped by his intensity, his overwhelming need.

You try to back away, but your knees give out, and you stumble to the floor. The carpet cushions your fall, but Lovino is already there, closing in with a feverish look in his eyes. His breath fans against your face, and you see the desperation — a wild, almost feral determination that makes your stomach clench in fear. His presence feels suffocating, his gaze locked onto you as if you’re the only thing keeping him sane.

"Mi sei mancata così tanto," he whispers, a slight tremor in his voice, his fingers digging into your skin like he’s afraid you’ll vanish. "Every minute I'm away from you, I feel like I'm losing my mind." His hands move, fingers tracing the thin straps of your bra. You flinch, trying to twist away, but he catches your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze.

“Guardami,” he orders, his voice thick with emotion. “Look at me, amore mio. Why won’t you just let me love you? Why do you keep running away?” His lips are close, so close, and you can feel his breath against your skin, warm and insistent.

Your chest tightens with anxiety. You feel tears sting at the corners of your eyes, your mind a whirl of conflicted emotions. You should push him away, should scream or shove him back — but your body is frozen, caught in the intensity of his desire, the raw, unfiltered need in his eyes.

Lovino’s fingers are trembling, tugging at your bra with an urgency that feels like it might break you. “Why can’t you see that no one will love you like I do?” he mutters, his voice cracking. “Nessuno... not Antonio, not Francis. No one.”

He surges forward, capturing your lips with a force that knocks the breath from your lungs, his kiss rough and demanding. His body presses against yours, almost crushing, as if he’s trying to merge with you, to ensure you can never escape.

You gasp against his mouth, your hands bracing against his chest, and for a moment, all you feel is the racing of his heart against your palm, the heavy beat of it matching your own. His hands are everywhere, pulling at you, holding you close, and there's a desperate edge to his touch, a frantic, aching need that makes your head spin.

And beneath him, you feel the weight of his obsession, his unrelenting desire. You're left trembling, torn between the instinct to fight and the growing realization that nothing will make him let go.

Your back arches as his knee presses against your core, forcing a soft, broken whimper from your lips, "Lovi~" The sound slips out despite the creeping dread that tightens like a vice around your ribs. You feel his pleased hum vibrate against your skin, resonating deep in your bones.

His grip tightens on your neck, and he gasps, a low, needy growl, "Sì, say my name again, bella, please... Tell me how good I make you feel."

Tears spill down your cheeks, your hands finding purchase on his shoulders, fingers curling into the fabric as if it could save you from the intensity of his gaze. You can’t meet his eyes — those dark, wild eyes where hunger and desperation mix, his Adam’s apple bobbing with every ragged breath. You remain silent, unwilling to feed the fever burning in his chest. His hands move, cupping your breasts with a possessive tenderness, as if holding the fragile pieces of your heart, ready to tear them from your chest and devour them, bit by agonizing bit, until he’s full — or until you’re emptied.

You would give and give and give... because even now, a twisted, agonizing love still clings to your heart, beating for him.

His fingers fumble with the buckle of his belt, urgency trembling in his movements as he presses himself further between your legs, trapping you beneath the weight of his need. "Oh, mia farfalla," he murmurs, a dark promise coating his words, "I’m going to make your wings flutter tonight."

He would take and take and take, driven by the insatiable hunger he couldn’t stifle, the self-loathing he couldn’t escape. His breath hitches, and his eyes bore into yours with a maddening obsession.

"No other man could ever be perfect for you. You are too perfect to belong to anyone else."

And maybe, just maybe, when your chest has been carved open, your ribs stretched to their breaking point, and your heart ruthlessly torn apart and devoured, when every piece of you has been laid bare and consumed, maybe then,

Perhaps, in that moment of ultimate surrender, you might finally be perfectly enough for your precious amore— your Lovino.

When you open your eyes with a flutter, it feels as if the events of last night were nothing more than a fleeting dream. Yet, the ache in your body betrays the truth. You find yourself dressed in a satin yellow nightgown, your hair brushed and your skin clean — all clearly the work of Lovino's careful hands.

Groggy and disoriented, you stumble down the stairs. The house may be vast, but thankfully, Lovino's impatience meant the bedroom was close to the main areas. He couldn’t wait for you to be within arm’s reach.

In the kitchen, you see Lovino meticulously reheating last night's dinner and adding a touch of his own culinary flair. His back is turned to you, but you sense his awareness in the subtle, deliberate movements of his hands.

“Did I hurt you?” His voice cuts through the silence, thick with an unexpected vulnerability that catches you off guard. You watch him for a moment, your fingers absently running through your hair, trying to steady yourself.

"No, amore mio," you whisper, your voice steady, but your chest tightens with each word. You see the flicker of doubt in his eyes, the hesitation, and you know he can sense the lie—he always does. Yet, you keep repeating it, hoping maybe this time, it will be true.

You gaze out the window, observing how summer's golden warmth will soon yield to the crisp embrace of autumn. As the leaves fall and the world prepares for winter's silent stillness, the cycle of seasons will continue its eternal dance, ever turning, ever renewing.

Perfectly.

[littlesistersti]

The book trailer to my fanfic that I may or may not ever get around to write it. I started writing it ages ago then started over from scratch and well, it’s still a work in progress. Anyways, “28 Month Pirate” / “28 Month Hai Tac” is a platonic Piratalia x F! Viet! Reader or a Hetalia x F! Viet! OC fanfic. For the keywords: Piratalia, Hetalia x Female, Vietnamese Reader or Original Character. The main character can be identified as either Y/N or Thuy. 

Even if the fanfic may never come to life, at least making this movie trailer was fun. Yes, there will be a majority of Pirate! Portugal, Spain, and England. Later on, France and Netherlands and select number of your fave Hetalia characters will show up, including a surprise appearance of someone that you might guess?? Wink wink nudge nudge? 

Technically, Vietnam and reader/Thuy are not Vietnamese since the story takes place during the Le Dynasty and the Dutch maps reads either Tonkin or Cochinechina. Historical things. 

⊹ ࣪ ﹏𓊝﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ࣪ ˖

☆彡 See my edits in full size on my Tumblr and VK. 

Credits below! Not in chronological order. 

Solo Portugal: World ☆ Stars manga - Chapter 428 https://www.tumblr.com/hetascanlations/685296012116508672/hetalia-world-stars-chapter-428-original?source=share, Art by @kuraudiart on Tumblr, commission for on Causitav on DeviantArt / mylofall on Instagram https://kuraudiart.tumblr.com/post/644874259259424768/pirate-portugal-this-is-a-colored-doodle

Solo England: Ayaka＠nico3a on Pixiv https://www.pixiv.net/en/artworks/23311273, https://www.pixiv.net/en/artworks/28768714 

Solo Spain: espino on Pixiv https://www.pixiv.net/en/artworks/92309156, @yaqamole Tumblr https://www.tumblr.com/yaqamole/677621542377701376/insert-the-pirates-who-dont-do-anythingfrom?source=share

Duo P+E: @rosesandalfazemas on Tumblr https://www.tumblr.com/rosesandalfazemas/757839423262031872/your-eyes-have-the-color-of-the-seas-lad-same?source=share

Duo E+S: Himaruya’s blob, 2009 Dec 31

Duo S+P: Spain art by tumblr vampelune (now dead link, refer to @porcellune) ; Portugal art by @romatito on tumblr

Trio: Hima-san’s blog, 2014 Nov 25

Scotland: @pyrokitten-284 on tumblr, shared on Hetalia community https://www.tumblr.com/communities/hetalia-community/post/773673675238080512/inspiration-struck-and-i-drew-this-man-last-night?source=share

Romano: @lore-55 on Tumblr https://www.tumblr.com/lore-55/755189282070740992/wtf-is-this-quality-day-one-spamanoweek2024?source=share

Ned: Hima’s blog, 2013 Nov 30 

Vietnam, sea: @bighugelargebig on Tumblr https://www.tumblr.com/bighugelargebig/749013324601196544/jai-entendu-la-mer?source=share

VN, pink: Chimco0k (current username @0ndaybia) on Tumblr https://www.tumblr.com/0ndaybia/760488993176584192/its-her-day?source=share | @chimco0k

V, duo: Hima’s blog, 2013 Nov 08

[Backgrounds]

Solo Portugal: Photo by Daniel Burka on Unsplash 

Solo Spain: Photo by Tahir Osman from Pexels: https://www.pexels.com/photo/a-round-glass-window-on-wooden-wall-11724841/, Photo by Martin Martz on Unsplash 

Duo E+S: Photo by Fabian Wiktor from Pexels: https://www.pexels.com/photo/seaside-994605/

Duo S+P: https://pixabay.com/photos/sailing-ship-port-summer-mast-7725132/ Image by WinterSa on Pixabay; Image by <a href="https://pixabay.com/users/wintersa-32922768/?utm_source=link-attribution&utm_medium=referral&utm_campaign=image&utm_content=7725132">Sascha Winter</a> from <a href="https://pixabay.com//?utm_source=link-attribution&utm_medium=referral&utm_campaign=image&utm_content=7725132">Pixabay</a>

Trio: Photo by Everett Bowes on Unsplash 

> Hat: Photo by Nick Karvounis on Unsplash 

[Stock videos]

Waves crashing – Video by Mario Krimer: https://www.pexels.com/video/a-sea-wave-crashing-against-a-rock-in-slow-motion-14902912/

Boat wake – Video by Kelly  from Pexels: https://www.pexels.com/video/wooden-boat-traversing-a-river-3978645/

Bubbles 🫧 – Video via Videvo https://www.videvo.net/video/scuba-bubbles/2715/#rs=video-box

Brush pen – Video by C ay: https://www.pexels.com/video/focused-woman-writing-with-traditional-brush-29955520/

Ship, ride – Video by ArtHouse Studio from Pexels: https://www.pexels.com/video/ships-sailing-in-the-ocean-4571675/

Ship, aerial – Video by Arpan Bhatia: https://www.pexels.com/video/aerial-footage-of-a-pirate-boat-in-the-sea-10094924/

Post-credit: “Pirate Goes To The Fog” by Grey_Coast_Media https://mixkit.co/free-stock-video/pirate-walking-through-fog-22460/ < https://elements.envato.com/pirate-goes-to-the-fog-7GDLFTX?utm_source=mixkit&utm_medium=referral&utm_campaign=elements_mixkit_referral_31JULY2024

[Stock photos]

Crow’s nest: Image by Michael K from Pixabay – https://pixabay.com/photos/pirate-ship-sail-masts-sea-ship-2254096/ 

Helm: Photo by Dmitrii Eliuseev on Unsplash 

Banister, maybe taffrail: Photo by Olga Nayda on Unsplash

Shrouds: Photo by Tanner Mardis on Unsplash

Hook: “Swordfight between Peter and Captain Hook.” Illustration by Francis D. Bedford for the 1911 edition of J.M. Barrie's 'Peter Pan.' https://fineartamerica.com/featured/8-barrie-peter-pan-1911-granger.html 

[Title card] Photo by Ylanite Koppens: https://www.pexels.com/photo/rope-on-a-map-14436274/

Song: Chikyuu Marugoto Hug Shitainda \ Let’s Hug the Earth  https://www.tumblr.com/hetalia-music/652288051110985728/song-chikyuu-marugoto-hug-shitainda-short-version?source=share

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓇼 ⋆.˚ 𓆉 𓆝 𓆡⋆.˚ 𓇼

(｡･ω･｡) thanks for making it to the bottom

[capricorn-writes1]

Feliciano Vargas, Lovino Vargas, Ludwig Beilschmidt, and Yao Wang with S/O Who are Serious Most Of The Time Until They Received Their Affection and Get Shy

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A/N: Hey @thekitsuneyokumoku! I knew you requested Hetalia Headcanons in the chat and I let it slide this time because I prefer if you request me in the Ask Button instead of in the chat. Anyway, thank you so much for your idea for this headcanon and I hope you like the final result.

Warning: None

Gender: Neutral

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Feliciano Vargas - North Italy

Feliciano is very cuddly and he likes to hug people around him so it wasn't really a surprise if he tries to hug you as his S/O. Then rubbing his cheeks on your face.

Not only cuddly but Feliciano would kiss your cheeks just out of nowhere because he is affectionate to everyone. If you watch the anime, you would see hugs from Lovino to Kiku. He also tried to hug Ludwig.

You are serious most of the time? I would be not surprised if Feliciano is trying to break your guard just to fluster you with his little affection.

Also, he is also a great cook so he would make perfect pasta for you just to show his love to you when you are hungry but really busy because of your work.

Despite his innocent smile and closed eyes. He enjoys when you are getting flustered when you get shy as you receive his affection but he won't show it.

He is still trying to play this innocently while hugging, kissing, and making pasta for you when you try to talk about how shy you are with his affection. "Huh, what's wrong with it mi amor? I'm just being There's nothing wrong about it, right?"

He thinks you are very adorable when you are getting shy because you receive his kisses and his hugs as your face is burning because of him. He won't stop even if you ask him.

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(Y/N) sat in front of their computer, their/her/his eyes fixed on the screen, fingers dancing across the keyboard. The soft glow of the monitor illuminated their focused expression, casting a warm hue on their determined features. The room was quiet, save for the gentle hum of the computer and the occasional tapping of keys.

A mug of hot, steaming coffee sat on (Y/N)'s table. The comforting aroma enveloped the air around them, creating a room filled with a warm coffee scent. As (Y/N) worked diligently, their/her/his hand occasionally reached out to grasp the mug's handle, the porcelain radiating a soothing heat that travelled up their fingers and took a sip of the bitter yet sweet beverage.

Feliciano peered out from behind the slightly ajar door, he couldn't help but feel a pang of concern as he observed your relentless dedication to the task at hand. He wanted to step in, to offer his warm and comforting hugs so you two could just cuddle together and forget all of the burdens.

Aware that interrupting (Y/N)'s focused work would make you pissed off and receive silent treatment from you. Feliciano decided he could do something sweet for you instead of bothering you and ending up annoying the hell out of you.

An idea sparked in his mind, and a bright smile spread across his face. He quietly retreated from behind the door and headed to the kitchen. With his experience in the kitchen, he gathered the ingredients needed for a comforting meal: fresh basil leaves, pine nuts, garlic, Parmesan cheese, and a box of spaghetti.

Feliciano's heart warmed at the thought of surprising you with a delicious homemade meal, something that would surely bring a smile to your face amidst your demanding workload. He couldn't wait to see the surprise and happiness in your eyes when he presented the plate of fragrant pesto spaghetti, a small gesture of love to remind them that taking a moment for themselves was just as important as their dedication to their tasks.

With the pesto spaghetti prepared to perfection, Feliciano held the dish in his hands. He gently knocked on the door before slowly pushing it open. (Y/N) glanced up from their/her/his work, surprised by the unexpected interruption. Feliciano's warm smile greeted them as he entered, holding the plate of steaming pasta. "Mi Amor!!! I thought you might need a break, so I made some Pesto Spaghetti for you," He skips in happily before putting the plate on your table.

With a soft, affectionate smile, he leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss on each of their cheeks. (Y/N)'s surprise was evident, your cheeks warming even more as you blinked in astonishment. You glance at the floor, not expecting a kiss from your boyfriend. "T-thank you, Feliciano," (Y/N) stutters.

Feliciano couldn't resist a playful glint in his eyes as he noticed the pink tint spreading across (Y/N)'s cheeks after the gentle kisses. He leaned against the doorway, his smile dancing with mischief. "Oh, I didn't know a simple kiss on the cheeks would turn you into such a blushing masterpiece, Mi Amor" he teased, his tone light and affectionate. Y/N's shyness deepened, and they tried to suppress a smile as they playfully rolled their eyes.

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Lovino Vargas - South Italy

Unlike Feliciano, Lovino is much more Tsundere when he is trying to show his affection around his crush. You know how he treats Spain so don't expect him to be as cuddly as Feliciano.

However, he does see his other side with his pickup lines so I could see that he would try to make you blush with his Italian pickup lines to try to make you blush.

This can be a little bit awkward though because mostly you are serious and he's not really teasing as much as Feliciano but he can be quite romantic.

Lovino does hug you or kiss you but not in public because he does not want to be teased so he would only be doing it in the bedroom where you two are cosy.

He does think you look cute though when you are blushing but he is not going to admit it as loud as Feliciano unless he does plan to fluster you.

Would also whisper sweet nothing just to fluster you when the two of you are not in public. He's Italian, so he's as experienced as Feliciano in the art of flirting and romance.

Also, he would surprisingly make pizza for you instead of Pasta. His special pizza and he would be pissed if you decide to eat those fake pizza from convenient store.

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As the sun began its descent on a Friday evening, (Y/N) and Lovino. They had been looking forward to this movie night all week long. The living room was adorned with cosy blankets, and a couple of sodas chilling in the ice bucket but it was not complete with the snacks for the movie night.

Lovino arrived first, his trademark scowl softened by the upcoming evening's prospect. He kicked off his shoes and settled onto the couch, sending a quick text to Y/N that he was there. Soon enough, (Y/N) joined him from Kitchen once you place the ice bucket filled with cold drinks next to the couch, your smile infectious as they entered the room.

"Hey, Lovino! Ready for another movie night?" Y/N asked with a soft smile on her/his/their face.

"Yeah, yeah, I guess so," he muttered, trying to mask his own anticipation.

Lovino Vargas leaned back on the couch, his attention divided between the Netflix menu and the movie selection. He shifted slightly, glancing at (Y/N) seated beside him. With a bashful smile that he tried to hide, he wrapped his arm around you. As he pretended to scroll through the movie options, his fingers brushed against (Y/N)'s arm, a subtle way of conveying his affection.

Lovino's heart raced as he felt a mixture of nerves and excitement, his arm wrapped around (Y/N). Just as he was beginning to feel more at ease, the distant sound of the doorbell pierced the air. He quickly pulled his arm away, the sudden movement accompanied by a muttered grumble under his breath. His cheeks tinged with a faint blush as he tried to regain his composure, cursing his own awkwardness.

As the doorbell rang, (Y/N) sprang up from the couch. (Y/N) hurried to the door, their/her/his steps quick but controlled. Opening the door revealed the pizza delivery person with a frown on the delivery man face. "Here's your pizza," the guy hands the pizza box. "Alright and here's the cash and the tip too," (Y/N) mutters before pulling out a few bucks and giving it to the delivery man.

As (Y/N) reentered the room, pizza box in hand, Lovino's eyes flickered towards the delicious prize they held. However, Lovino glances at the pizza box. The box is written 'American Express Pizza' and he puffs his cheeks together. "Mi amor. Did you buy that Horrible American Pizza?" he asks. "They are not horrible and yes, I did," (Y/N) looks at Lovino.

Lovino's nose wrinkled ever so slightly at the mention of American Express Pizza, his preference for Italian cuisine evident in his expression. "Ugh, American Express Pizza? You know I can't stand that stuff," he quipped. "Hey, how about this? Since I can actually make a proper Italian pizza, why don't we make one together? I'll show you the real deal, and then we can enjoy it while watching the movie," He held one of your hands and drag you to the kitchen.

A light blush painted (Y/N)'s cheeks as Lovino gently took your hand, his touch sending a subtle thrill through you. His actions were unexpectedly tender, and they followed him willingly as he led them to the kitchen. The scent of ingredients and the warmth of the oven filled the air, creating a cosy atmosphere that matched their fluttering emotions.

Lovino turned towards them, his gaze meeting theirs. Before (Y/N) could say anything, he leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss on each of (Y/N) cheeks, his affectionate gesture momentarily leaving her/him/them breathless. The surprise of his kiss deepened your blush, (Y/N) heart beating a little faster.

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Ludwig Beilschmidt - Germany

Unlike Feliciano, he is much more shy with showing affection so it is going to be awkward between the two of you. He does love you but it takes a long time for him to hold your hand or to give a kiss on your cheeks.

To show his affection to you how much he loves you mostly from his chocolate cake since he could bake the best chocolate cake since we know he doe love baking.

Other than baking chocolate cake for you. Ludwig would be most likely show his affection to you through Act service. It would be like cleaning your room, teaching you the subjects you did not understand, or protecting you.

Nevertheless, Ludwig does try to be affectionate to you. Each time he goes home from the world meeting. He would give a little kiss on the crown on your head but he doesn't always do it often because he would get a bit shy when giving you a kiss.

Sometimes he would try to make himself brave by kissing you on the lips even though it ended up causing him to blush madly and things getting even a bit more awkward than before.

Ludwig might be not affectionate in public but he does give you some little kisses when in the house and no one is watching. He's aware that his brother are going to tease him so he only being affectionate when no one is there too.

Also, he does think when you blush are endearing byt just like Lovino. He is not going to admit it out loud when you are blushing because of his kisses.

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On a tranquil afternoon, (Y/N) found themselves immersed in the company of Ludwig's Dogs, Arter, Berlitz and Blackie. The soft glow of the TV illuminated their faces as they all settled in for a movie night. Blackie lay by (Y/N)'s feet, a comforting presence emitting a quiet warmth. Berlitz perched excitedly on the cushion next to (Y/N), occasionally tilting their head in response to the flickering images on the screen.

Lastly, Aster occupied the space by the window, as if keeping a watchful eye on the world outside and waiting for her master to go home just like (Y/N) too. Despite sitting together with the triple furbabies, (Y/N) could not help but feel lonely as Ludwig had been staying in another country for the world meeting.

Despite the movie playing on the TV screen, (Y/N) found their/her/his thoughts wandering elsewhere, unable to focus on the storyline. Ludwig had been away in America for a week. (Y/N)'s mind was fixated on the front door. Every distant sound, every creak in the house stirred a spark of hope that it might be Ludwig's arrival.

As the minutes stretched into the night, (Y/N)'s gaze shifted from the TV to the clock on the wall. The hands of time seemed to be moving at an excruciatingly slow pace, reminding you that it was growing late. With a sigh, (Y/N) reluctantly tore their attention away from the door and decided to head to the kitchen. The dogs followed closely, their/her/his presence a comforting reminder of the waiting they were all engaged in.

In the warm glow of the kitchen lights, (Y/N) set about preparing a simple meal. They gathered ingredients, chopped vegetables and seasoned the chicken. The dogs sat nearby, their attentive eyes fixed on every movement, their tails occasionally thumping against the floor in anticipation. As the scent of food filled the air, (Y/N) couldn't help but smile at the three dogs' excitement.

For Blackie, Aster and Berlitz, diced some leftover chicken that you had used and some scrambled eggs for the extra since she did not want them to get bored with only chicken. The dogs, their tails wagging in excitement, gathered around their designated bowls, ready to devour their given food.

A sudden hush fell over the kitchen as the distinct sound of boots echoed from outside. The dogs, their ears perked up in unison, froze in their tracks, their meals momentarily forgotten. Blackie, Berlitz, and Aster exchanged knowing glances, their instincts alert to the approaching presence.

The triplets moved in unison towards the living room, their sensitive noses catching the scent of someone familiar. Ludwig had finally returned. The kitchen fell silent but the sounds of the dogs barking from the living room reached out to (Y/N)'s ears. This causes (Y/N) to stand up from the chair, following Balckie, Berlitz and Aster together.

The door swung open, revealing Ludwig's figure framed by the warm light spilling in from the outside. (Y/N)'s heart leapt at the sight, a mixture of relief and excitement flooding your senses. Without hesitation, Ludwig closed the distance between them. As he reached (Y/N), a shy yet affectionate smile curved his lips.

With a gentle gesture, he reached out, cupping (Y/N)'s face in his hands, his eyes never leaving theirs. And then, in a moment that felt like a whisper of time, he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead and then placed his lips on top of your lips. The tender kiss from Ludwig left (Y/N) feeling a rush of emotions that spread like wildfire across your cheeks. A delicate blush crept up, tinting their skin with a rosy hue.

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Yao Wang - China

Yao Wang is shameless when he is showing his love so it was not surprising that he would latch out on you out of nowhere when he feels cuddly.

Yao wang is just as affectionate as Feliciano but a little bit more stern when he is taking care of you when you are sick, scolding you and feeding you hot soup.

When you are blushing. he would squeal as he thinks you look really adorable when you are getting shy as he is showing his affection to you.

You could expect him glomping on you and telling you how much adorable you are when you are blushing madly. Also, not going to let go of you even though you told him to get away.

Does not mind PDA at all and does not even realize that he is really embarrassed as everyone watches him being lovey-dovey to you. Would hug and kiss you everywhere and anywhere but not kiss on the lips. He's surprisingly a little bit shy when it comes to kissing on the lips.

Also, would even smush your cheeks when you are getting shy when he sees you getting embarrassed after he kisses you or hugs you.

Another guy who would be willingly try to break your guard and your serious face just to see you blush and giggles when he is being cuddly to you.

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In the midst of her/his/their daily routine, (Y/N) settled into a virtual Zoom meeting, connecting with your manager and fellow colleagues scattered across different locations. As faces appeared on the screen in the computer screen, the manager greeted their teammates with a smile on his face. "Good afternoon everyone. Let's discuss our project with our upcoming plan for a drink," he places his arms on the table.

Yao Wang found himself reclining on the bed, his patience gradually waning as he awaited (Y/N)'s meeting to come to an end. The passing minutes seemed to stretch, and he couldn't help but sigh softly, his expressive eyes reflecting a mix of anticipation and restlessness. As the voices from the virtual meeting continued to emanate from (Y/N)'s device, Yao Wang shifted his position, starting at the bald glasses men.

Yao Wang's eyes began to droop as the minutes dragged on, the monotony of waiting causing drowsiness to creep over him. The hum of the meeting had transformed into a distant buzz, and he stifled a yawn, his eyelids feeling heavier with each passing moment. Until suddenly a spark of inspiration lit up in his mind.

With renewed energy, Yao Wang pushed himself up from the bed, his boredom momentarily forgotten as he had tons of ideas about what to do to take your attention away from the bald manager. The man decides to surprise (Y/N) with a homemade culinary extravaganza as he dove into the culinary world.

With determination in his eyes, he gathered the necessary ingredients and set about recreating a trio of beloved Chinese dishes. The kitchen came alive with activity as Yao Wang skillfully chopped vegetables, marinated meats, and orchestrated the symphony of sizzling pans. The aroma of sizzling meats and the mingling scents of various sauces filled the air, promising a mouthwatering feast in the making.

With unwavering focus, he whipped up a sumptuous Kung Pao Chicken, the marriage of spices, peanuts, and succulent chicken pieces tantalizing his senses. Lastly, Yao Wang decides to create an Orange Chicken as the chicken fried until perfectly golden-brown and coated with Orange Sauce.

Strutting inside the bedroom with pride, Yao Wang entered the room where (Y/N) is still talking with the other workers and their/her/his manager with the tray in his hand inside there are rice along with the chicken that he made and a pair of chopsticks. Yao Wang set the plates and the bowl on the table, arranging them thoughtfully as he sets them on the table.

A delightful and enticing aroma wafted through the air, drawing (Y/N)'s attention away from the meeting. As you turned around, your eyes met the scene before them, a beautifully laid-out lunch spread that showcased Yao Wang's meals and Chinese food specialities. With a mix of surprise and appreciation, (Y/N) couldn't help but smile a little bit with a blush on (Y/N)'s face.

Yao Wang's observant eyes caught the flush that graced (Y/N)'s cheeks as (Y/N) realizes the meal that he had prepared. A small smile played at his lips, his heart warming at the sight of your reaction. He closed the distance between them with a soft yet purposeful step. As he reached (Y/N), placing a gentle kiss on your cheeks.

"我爱你，你害羞的时候真可爱." (Wǒ ài nǐ, nǐ hàixiū de shíhòu zhēn kě'ài - I love you, you're really cute when you blush.)

Ⰶ║ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ║Ⰶ

❀

❀

❀

❀

❀

[apple---cider---vinegar]

Lovino and Rain

It was a rainy evening.

You stood with your back flush against his chest; cradled in Lovino's arms as he gently swayed the two of you to the sound of the rain outside.

You were focused on the pattering against the window when he kissed your shoulder and lifted his head.

"Did you take your medication, amore?"

He could be such a mother-hen.

You nodded " You reminded me in the afternoon, Lovi"

He hums and lays his head back to your shoulder.

You continue to sway.

"I worry about you"

"I know"

It takes you a minute to gather your courage but you do - "I love you"

"I love you too"

[lilac-amethyst-skies]

(If you do multiples or please choose one you like best) Romano, Italy, and Denmark walking in on their gf fast asleep on the couch or bay window having been reading. Stormy night outside, candles or fireplace lit, her book on her lap and glasses slightly askew. Plus size again please? You are truly amazing!! ❤️❤️❤️😍😍😍

Romano, Italy, Denmark X Plus-sized!Reader on a stormy night

Romano; Lovino had had a terribly long day. The stresses from work and life seemed to wear him down a little more than usual today. And now, as if to top it all off, it was absolutely pouring rain outside. Not even the weather would give him a break and the moment he got out of the car, Lovino became pelted with the ongoing rainstorm, leaving him soaked to the bone.

Lovino cursed under his breath.

He was sure this day really couldn’t get any worse.

Trudging up to the entrance of his home, he ripped open the door and slipped inside. Never had he been more thankful for the respite of his house. Lovino hopped a bit clumsily toward the bathroom, attempting to spare the hardwood flooring with little luck. He snatched a towel and did his best to dry himself off but couldn’t find himself trying too hard. His clothes would be coming off to be thrown into the wash anyhow.

With that idea in mind, he set off down the hallway. Lovino made a passing glance at the study on his way and stopped his brisk walk when he caught sight of you. Lovino hardly felt his wet clothes anymore when his eyes drank you in. Stepping further into the room, he found you fast asleep in that little nook in the window. You loved that bay window. To the point that Lovino had bought cushions to make it more comfortable for you to sit in—or, in this case, sleep in.

Your glasses were endearingly askew on your face, and it made Lovino chuckle out a breath. You made it easy for a smile to find his lips, and for that he was so thankful. Here, you looked so gentle and soft and entirely peaceful. So unaware of the world around you as the weather crashed outside.

Lovino found himself right beside you and couldn’t stop the urge to brush a few pieces of hair away from your face.

As cute as this was, he figured you would be terribly sore if you slept like this all night. The window was good for a nap, but not for a full night’s sleep. So, regretfully, Lovino decided to wake you.

He pressed a kiss to your forehead, and still leaning over you whispered, “Sweetheart?”

You mumbled a bit in response, and he could only smile.

“You should move to the bed. It’s not good for you to sleep here all night.”

Finally, you opened your eyes to look at him. After fixing your glasses and a deep yawn, you nodded and sleepily found yourself on your feet, swaying a little too much in the process. Lovino was quick to steady you, but his proximity had you accidentally bumping into him. Your brow furrowed in confusion.

“Why are your clothes all wet?”

“Probably because it’s raining outside,” Lovino talked a bit too smartly and nodded toward the bay window to further drive his point. You shot him a look. Typically, you looked more ferocious, but due to you being so tired you were hardly a threat.

Lovino only laughed as you found your way to the bedroom.

Italy; These nights felt so easy. It was entirely too lucky how the storm started on your cozy night in. The wind howled and the rain hit harshly against the paned window, but here, Feliciano’s arms were wrapped around you just right and everything was as warm and comfortable as it could ever be. The two of you had leaned back on the couch. With your head rested on his chest, you could feel the rhythmic beating of his heart stirring. At first, his heartbeat was racing at a rampant pace, but the more you settled into the evening the more it calmed. Comfortable just as you were.

You had to admit, Feliciano providing his body heat was the least he could do, considering he was the one that had woken you up. Sometime earlier Feliciano had found you fast asleep on the living room couch. You’d started the fireplace, and after having wrapped yourself in blankets it seemed as though you couldn’t stay awake any longer.

Even now, Feliciano saw you struggling to hang onto your consciousness. The ambience of flickering candles you’d lit prior was hardly helping either. Your hair was charmingly messy, and your glasses were clumsily hung askew on your face. Feliciano pressed a smile to the back of your head, hugging you a little tighter. He closed his eyes taking in the scent of your hair.

He loved you like this.

Your breaths became slower and slower, and eventually they were steady and easy. You had fallen back asleep. Just as you were before, but this time you both were able to enjoy this rest together.

You nestled your face into his chest, and your glasses would have fallen off if Feliciano hadn’t grabbed them in time. As silently and carefully as possible, he placed them on the nearby end table. He knew you wouldn’t forgive him if he woke you up twice in one day. Though the thought did make him laugh a bit.

Feliciano allowed himself to sink into the cushions. No stress, no work—just the warmth of the fireplace and most importantly, you.

Denmark; Matthias gently closed the front door to your shared home. The warmth of the house kissed his face, and he already felt his chilled skin begin to soothe from the bite of the wintery, wet storm. He began to shed his gloves, his coat, his boots. All the while, Matthias was being uncharacteristically quiet while the wind howled outside. He had noticed the lack of lights the moment he drove in. Though, you had graciously left the lamp on in the entryway so that he would be able see what he was doing.

Odds are, you were already fast asleep. Curled up in the bed—warmly inviting.

Matthias let out a deep, relaxed sigh at the thought. It’d been a long day, and he wanted nothing more than to find his place right next to you. Without further ado, Matthias easily started his way up the stairs. In reaching the second floor, he had intended to make it all the way down the hall to the bedroom, but his eyes were drawn to the flickering light coming from the reading room instead.

It was then that he could also hear soft music playing. The corners of his mouth twitched into a smile.

Maybe you were still awake?

Matthias quickly learned that this assumption was not the case. Leaning against the frame of the doorway, he took you in fondly. The light from the fireplace danced across your skin in a lovely dance as you slept comfortably on the couch. You had even gone so far as to light a few extra candles that left a delightful scent to the room.

After a moment, Matthias left his spot in the doorframe to make his way over to you. Upon further inspection, the book you had been reading was still loosely held in your hands resting against your lap. Your breath was easy and deep, and with the way your head tilted in your slumber, Matthias was impressed that your glasses hadn’t fallen off and onto the floor below.

Matthias held back a laugh as he snuck up beside you at the foot of the couch. Gently crouching down to your level, Matthias rested on his knees. Slowly and carefully, he attempted to readjust your glasses so that they would sit on your face right. Unfortunately, the tickle at your face was undeniable and you drew a quick breath in.

Matthias froze. His hand still hovering by your glasses.

Upon opening your eyes, you jolted a bit, obviously not expecting anyone to be there. You sleepily took in Matthias’ face and his hand right next to your face.

“…What are you doing?”

“Fixing…your glasses?”

You huffed out a laugh in response, sitting up a bit and putting a little distance between you both.

“What time is it?”

“Late.”

You could hear the fondness in his tone. So much so that you leaned in to press a kiss to his lips. Matthias hummed sweetly.

“We should probably get to bed then…” your reasonable tone quickly shifted into childishness as you dramatically stretched out your arms, whining, “Carry me.”

Matthias dramatically rolled his eyes as he all too easily bundled you into his arms and lifted you off the couch. Playful laughter fell out of you as he brought you down the hallway and to the bedroom.

[generational-atrophy]

helloooo can i humbly request the s/o liking their accent + voice but with romano and iceland? :) loved your other post with it!! good luck with exams by the way

hetalia romano and iceland with a s/o who loves their voice

0.3k words ~ gender neutral headcanons

tw: none!

a/n: this is a short one BCS I didn't have that much to say and I'm about t o pass out hi I love u guys

Romano

It's a good thing you're a sucker for Italian accents because Romano loves when girls swoon over his voice (Whenever a pretty tourist is around, he sounds like it's his first time speaking his English.) So, if he has the same effect on you, he abuses that privilege greatly.

“Qualcuno ti ha mai detto che hai un sorriso meraviglioso?”

“What?”

“Nothing, Bella~”

Anything he says to you is followed immediately by some random off-handed phrase in Italian, just because he knows how hot you find his voice. That habit keeps your attention, as well as his patience with the English language.

Plus, he's Italian, so he loves the sound of his own voice. Give him a good enough topic and he can rant for hours without you saying even a single word to encourage him.

He prefers S/Os that are a lot quieter than he is, so it's not uncommon for him to have a whole conversation with himself while you just listen. And when he knows he has an audience, even if it's you, his voice becomes painfully smooth and attractive. So, win-win, right?

Iceland

Wait, really? He... never expected anyone to tell him that. It seems like only yesterday that he sounded completely different, and he hasn't gotten used to having a more mature voice yet. That's partly why he's so quiet, he still finds his voice awkward and childish.

But really, his voice is perfectly soft. He's accidentally sent you to sleep more than once, but he assumed that was actually just an indication that he bored you.

“If me speaking bothers you that much... I will be quiet.”

“It doesn't bother me!”

“... I will be quiet anyway.”

He doesn't like talking. It's hard to get a more than 3-word text out of him, much less ramble; even if you beg. He doesn't really believe you when you say you like his voice.

Though, like with every compliment you give him, it makes him blush every time you bring it up. Plus, it does stay in the back of his mind... even if he won't indulge you.

[mellifluouaamor]

⍣ | MOON EMBRACES THE SUN: NAVIGATION

synopsis. ( gangsta au ) one day, when you are cleaning the italian brothers' house, you suddenly remember your past life. this is the world of the manga hetalia, except it's a dystopian pangea where instead of countries, there are districts ruled by mobsters. as you try to grasp your new reality, you find that the memories of your current life have become fragmented, leaving you no choice but to seek ways to remember. to make matters worse, the representatives of the other districts are beginning to catch onto the fact that you're different, and it'll only be a matter of time before the big 5 hears of you.

pairing. italy x fem!reader x romano

warnings. canon divergent (will add more along the way)

chapter 1 : remember

chapter 2 : mosaic

[mxlovinovargas]

ORDINARY MAN — ROMANO x READER

Synopsis: He's alone, but not with you.

Ordinary Man

CW: Stalker Behavior, Obsessive Themes, Allusions to Obsession, Use of Country Names, Reader-Insert.

Word Count: .700

Rome is warm. And the sun shines down, but there’s a subtle breeze that keeps the day chilly enough that Romano shivers a little and crosses his arms over his chest. A thump in his chest is a dull pain, but he ignores it as he stalks down the winding and narrow streets of the city. Cracked sidewalks are like slaps to the soles of his feet, but he doesn’t care. It doesn’t matter. 

In the city of cold hearts—

Romano finds himself so absolutely desolate and isolated. He glances left and right. There are no familiar faces, no familiar smiles. No oceanic, bright, and stormy eyes to look upon him like he really did belong. They just walk forward, quiet and brisk, and they don’t offer solace as Romano pauses in his place. The people just split and walk around him like second nature. 

That’s okay. Romano might be alone, but it’s better to be alone than to be surrounded by fakes. By people who really don’t care about him or care that he doesn’t move or that doesn’t really see him for the man he really is. He doesn’t want to even try. There’s no olive branch to extend when the compromise is yourself, when the Cassandra Complex is nothing but prophetic and he’s meant to burn. Romano doesn't find the glory in trying to deflect that truth. He’s used to this. No point in trying to be someone that I’m not. 

But then there’s you. 

His little rites of passage. 

You’re the one who smiles that white-hot flame, and it licks at his soul like no other fire ever has, but Romano doesn’t mind because you’re so beautiful and so true and so righteous. You seem like you know the real Romano, the real him, and you don’t skirt around that fact. You face it with a brazen fury and you take him on like you need him, too, and Romano just knows that you’re more than you seem. 

And you seem like someone who could appreciate the fact, 

He knows that he’s different. 

That I’m no ordinary man. 

And he may seem like an asshole, a douchebag, and some lazy bum who doesn’t do anything but curse those he cares about and apathetically dismisses him. They’re just rumors, and Romano may be explosive and a wildfire that destroys the mountain side of Italy—but he’s just rough around the edges, like a diamond in the rocky shores of Nice. He would tell you this a million times over, no matter how much a shadow of a doubt stretches and grows and you grimace at him grimly before changing the subject. But you just don’t realize that no one understands. They just see the book for its cover. 

Until they’ve fought my fight

They won’t understand the way Romano thinks, acts, or feels. Not a single person. Because it’s that attitude that brings him to your doorstep, weak and weary, and you just don’t realize that he’s doing this for your own good. That he’s no longer alone whenever you’re there and that you make the sun just a little warmer than before. Exactly as I am. You just don’t see it right now. 

Though Rome is warm with its temperate breeze, it ends before it starts. He’s found you. Romano knows where you are and where to find you. Always and forever, he can see that smile in his mind as he raises his fist to rap his knuckles against your doorframe. 

It rattles. And Romano knows that you can hear him, that you know it’s him. You’re nothing like the vipers of this rusty city. You know where to find him, too. The only rules you follow are your own. 

So he knows that you’ll accept him this time. No matter how many times he has to convince you. Over and over, day by day, Rome’s sunlight beats down against his back and shoulders. The door opens. And Romano is ready; because, well, 

I’m no ordinary man.

[merbear25]

Hello again! I had a fun idea:

How would Italy, Romano, and Spain respond to seeing their girlfriend wearing a shirt that said: I'm not clumsy. Just the floor hates me, the tables and chairs are BULLIES and the walls get in my way. (I'm wearing this shirt today and had a good laugh)

Hey, hey! I know this ask is old, so I appreciate your patience! That sounds like a shirt that accurately describes my relationship with furniture. Love it 😂

Italy, Romano, and Spain reacting to their s/o wearing a quirky shirt

CW: SFW, fluff, fem!reader in mind but nothing specific mentioned.

Italy

The first time you wear it around him, he stops you so he can read it properly.

He laughs and says that it suits you so well.

Wouldn't mind in the slightest if you decide to wear it often. He finds the shirt funny and it reminds him of all your cute clumsy behavior.

If you end up running into any furniture, he'd tell you to add it to the list of bullies.

Playful teasing would be one of his favorite ways of commenting on the shirt.

Romano

He's slightly embarrassed by how specific your shirt is.

Dating you, he knows it's all too accurate.

Would hide his face when you come into the room wearing it in hopes of concealing his burning cheeks.

This being said, he would never tell you not to wear it. It's yours, it makes you giggle, but just know he's rolling his eyes at your silliness.

If you're ever clumsy when wearing that shirt, he'll tell you that it's bad luck.

Sure, he's just joking...maybe

Spain

When he first sees you in the shirt he can't help but laugh. Of course, he's not laughing at you. He's just recalling all of those 'bullies' you've run into.

He jokes that wearing it might bring you some trouble, making the furniture and walls want to sneak up on you.

If any clumsiness occurs when you wear it, he'd tease that he warned you that you were making yourself a target.

Of course, he adores you and will leave a soft kiss on your forehead after the chuckles subside.

He'd probably buy you some other quirky shirts or mugs that seem to have been made specifically for you.

[crimson-kisses]

Hi, um, so I LOVE your writings on Prussia and Germany. Glad to know there are people out here still blessing us with yandere hetalia content. I find it interesting how you mention in Germany's oneshot that Prussia told him he should be harsher with you from day one... So, the morbid curiosity wants to know, pretty please, what that would look like in detail?

Thank you very for such lovely compliments, warms my heart, it keeps me going and pumped up for writing more! 🌻 I would love delve deeper into such concepts although it will be rather short and simple. Gilbert is a bastard when it comes to giving advices, it’s always a clean cut which he’s aiming for. 🐝✨

Warning: Contains usual yandere themes, mentions of violence and drinking.

🇩🇪

Beratung

The aroma of coffee permeates the air as he is pulled back by his shoulders, his head meeting a solid, sturdy chest while his brother playfully ruffles his hair. In that moment, he feels like a mischievous teenager caught in the act, rather than a towering young man he has become.

A small cough escapes his lips, accompanied by specks of blood staining the pristine white shirt, drawing a disapproving glance from his older brother. However, his brother remains silent for a while, taking deep drags from his cigarette as they both stand beneath the glow of a streetlight.

Ludwig winces as he wipes his bruised nose, attempting to compose himself and maintain a semblance of dignity. He is already embarrassed about being forcibly removed from the bar by his brother.

"Eine ziemliche Schlägerei, aye junge?" his brother remarks, exhaling smoke that twists and weaves into intricate patterns as it ascends, Ludwig pointedly disregards the accusatory taunt. Both of them hear a crashing sound coming from inside the bar, followed by the slamming of a door.

They catch a fleeting glimpse of Lovino supporting a drunken Florentyna, their figures visible for a moment before disappearing around a corner. 

"Was it him?"

Ludwig offers a slight nod, opting not to elaborate further, although he knows his brother wasn’t known to let such incidents slide so easily. It could work in his favor or against him.

The cigarette beneath Gilbert's polished boots is crushed, his gaze scrutinizing Ludwig until their eyes finally meet. 

"Well? I expect more than just a nod from you," Gilbert presses, his disappointment evident. It was far from ideal that his older brother had been urgently summoned due to a bar brawl. Damn it, that cantankerous bartender should have kept his nose out of it.

"Don't curse that old man in your thoughts," Ludwig winces audibly at the retort, confirming Gilbert's suspicion that Ludwig had indeed cursed out the elderly man for doing precisely what Gilbert had instructed him to do in such situations.

"Francis— that French Arschficker— was the one who started it all",

Ludwig's attempt to shift the blame onto Francis, earns him nothing more than an exaggerated eye roll and an indifferent look, further dampening his mood.

"I'm not here for a game of blame, Ludwig. What I witnessed was you nearly tearing Feliciano’s head off with a shard from a broken bottle."

In response, Ludwig merely huffs with pride, which promptly results in a firm smack to his head.

"Just tell me what caused all of this and who was involved. And don't you dare feed me some bullshit, you hear me, junge?" Gilbert's voice carries a stern warning.

Ludwig rubs the back of his head and his neck, his embarrassment growing by the minute. Here he is, being scolded by his brother in the dead of night. He wonders if Gilbert had been sleeping or simply lounging around, which would explain the presence of the cigarette.

When Gilbert made his entrance into the bar, there was a contemplative air about him. Swiftly, he had landed a powerful punch on Antonio, knocking him down, and forcefully slammed Francis' face against the wall. It appeared that he had been suppressing his frustrations and had finally found a way to release them.

"They were making comments about her," Ludwig admitted, studying Gilbert's expression closely. In response, Gilbert simply shrugged and let out a deep sigh.

"So what? They insulted your manhood? Is that what this was all about? Antonio is going to whine like a little bitch about his broken nose, you know."

"That would be Francis," Ludwig spat out the name as if it were burning his tongue, causing Gilbert to raise an eyebrow.

"He was... well, he kept going on about how I wasn’t experienced enough and how I couldn't handle her if it came down to it. He was insulting me, Brüder, and then he just HAD TO BRING UP SOME BURIED SHIT!! And then Lovino... that damn bitch had a lot to say about love and pleasure and shit”,

Gilbert simply let Ludwig vent out his frustrations in a stream of jumbled and incomprehensible sentences, while he attempted to wipe away the previous droplets of blood off his shirt. His efforts were futile, sadly.

"I just hate that I feel so inferior compared to them. I….. I don't know what to do anymore. Even she makes me feel that way, as if I'm just pathetic. I try to be patient, but Verdammt!"

"You let her think that, holding yourself back and all, don't you?" Gilbert interjects.

Ludwig runs his hand through his hair, smoothing it down after nearly tearing it out in frustration. He closes his eyes, admitting that yes, he does let her think that way. He holds himself back, afraid of scaring her or confirming the doubts others have about him. He nods in agreement.

"Well, then you're a dumbfuck. Stop caring about what others say and handle her directly. Put your foot down instead of tiptoeing around like an uncertain school kid," Gilbert asserts.

Ludwig groans in response, ignoring the intense stare from Gilbert. He knows deep down that it shouldn't matter what others say, but he can't help replaying their demeaning words in his mind. It becomes too much, especially when they start speaking about you, insinuating that he can't please you or even handle you. That's when he lost control.

When they began to critique your relationship with him.

"Lutz, it's not going to be easy to handle a fully grown woman if you continue down this path," Ludwig's hand descends slightly to his cheek as he attentively listens to Gilbert's words. "You have to be tough, be patient if you want that, but if you fold so easily, then you're in for a difficult time."

"It's not about them demeaning or underestimating you, shit."

Gilbert's lips purse as he opens a soda can with a resounding clang, swiftly followed by a massive gulp. His gaze fixates on the empty streets ahead, his eyes narrowing as he mutters, "It's you belittling and underestimating yourself."

Ludwig raises a brow as Gilbert grabs him by the shoulders again, both of them stumbling along the sidewalk. A couple of minutes pass as Gilbert empties the soda can and effortlessly crushes it in his fist.

"Some women require a bit of building, some require a bit of molding, and others a bit of breaking. Not everyone is made the same."

"I'm not... uh, I'm not quite sure about that," Ludwig responds, voicing his uncertainty.

Gilbert pays no heed to his comment as he continues, seemingly pondering how to ensure his brother doesn't mess things up too badly, or else he would have to intervene himself.

"That's the issue, you're not sure about yourself in the first place. Buckle up, Bruder. Your woman isn't going to be a walk in the park. She's bursting with passionate fire, and she'll end up stinging your ass if you don't get yourself together."

Ludwig remained silent for a while, his brows furrowing slightly as he walked alongside his brother. Gilbert's gaze was fixed on the moon, which hung in the sky above them. 

"We don't get to love so easily, Ludwig," Gilbert spoke softly, his voice tinged with a hint of melancholy. "We never had that privilege. For beings like us, humans have always been transient beings, fleeting like dust that settles for a few brief years."

Ludwig's gaze shifted to his brother, his features reflecting a mix of understanding and sadness. He knew that all too well. 

"You remember your pretty little Snow White?" Gilbert's voice took on a nostalgic tone, breaking the previous melancholy atmosphere. Ludwig turned to him with a bewildered expression, caught off guard by the sudden shift in topic.

"Bruder! That was different. I was a child!" Ludwig replied, his tone laced with exasperation.

"Well, you sucked at wooing a lady back then, and it seems you haven't improved much, maybe those cunts do have a point" Gilbert remarked, his words laced with a hint of mockery. Ludwig shot him an offended glare, but Gilbert responded with a half-hearted smirk.

"If I hadn't caught you being so captivated by that young Mädchen, I wouldn't have even known she was your type," Gilbert continued. Ludwig let out a frustrated sigh, 

"Okay, that's enough," he interjected, his voice firm. "Let's just go home."

"I even considered arranging a marriage between the two of you, you know, get you a wife," Gilbert added, his tone filled with reminiscence. "Do you have any idea how proud this old man was? to see his young boy finally muster some manly balls?"

Ludwig stared at him with a nonchalant expression, a look of surprise on his face. 

"What?"

His confusion is ignored once again.

Gilbert's grip only tightened on Ludwig's forearm, who had a hint of embarrassment coloring his expression. "My point is, it's alright to chase your romantic dreams and indulge in all that teenage shenanigan bullshit," he began, his voice tinged with sarcasm and sincerity.

"But now you're dealing with a strong-headed woman, not some delicate Victorian-era Snow White. It's okay to have lovey dovey expectations, but as a man, you need to stand your ground and make your intentions clear," Gilbert continued, his tone firm. "Don't play around or mess things up, Ludwig. Tread carefully, or you'll end up with a tangled mess of threads."

Ludwig hummed, his expression growing more grounded as he narrowed his eyes in deep thought. He absorbed Gilbert's words, carefully considering their implications.

"So, you're suggesting that I should be more assertive and dominant," Ludwig started with a thoughtful tone.

“I am suggesting that you don’t fuck around too much, don’t be too arrogant-minded or violent like that Danish imbecile or that Russian brute”.

The blond shifted awkwardly with his boots, gaze fixated on the beer stains which he grimaced at. His brother better not see that unless he wanted to hear another lecture.

He had heard Mathias bragging about his darling, apparently a daring young woman herself. Although his comments were, uh, quite something.

“And also, don’t think too much with your dick”,

Ludwig roughly choked on his own spit, taken aback by the unexpected comment.

Gilbert, however, responded with a dismissive eye roll. He casually took out the car keys from his pocket and opened the passenger door, signaling for Ludwig to get in, even though it was Ludwig's own car. Reluctantly, he made his way to the passenger seat.

With a smooth purr, the car’s engine roared to life and soon they were on their way to wherever Gilbert wanted to go.

“You gotta wait for the right moment to strike, bide your time patiently, you would be surprised what France goes through with his Dame or any other nation”,

“What did she do?”

Ludwig's curiosity got the better of him and couldn't help but ask eagerly, for someone who was commenting on his lack of experiences, it was amusing to know the Frenchman had issues of his own when it came to his darling.

Gilbert smirked, his eyes glimmering with amusement. "Turns out she's quite the escape artist. She's resourceful and has a way with words and her cunning mind."

Ludwig raised a brow in interest as his brother continued,

"The last I heard, she caused the poor man to have flashbacks when she decided to reenact the events of the French Revolution using a butcher knife."

The blond snorted, well that’s what he gets, as he turned on the radio to some shitty pop song.

“Really?”,

“Ja”.

The romantic man had gone on and on about how to treat a woman, wooing them and intending to jab at Ludwig's lack of experience when it came to such things.

That’s where the Italian brothers had joined in, with their unwanted advices which turned into passive insults. Soon enough, Antonio retorted how Lovino was like a neutered cat when it came to his bella. Which resulted in a furious bar fight which others joined in.

It hadn’t taken long after that, when Feliciano in his drunken confidence commented on Ludwig's misfortune with women. And how his darling would be better off with someone else.

This led to Ludwig's attempt to send him to the heaven above using a piece of broken glass shard, after punching the shit out of him.

A serene atmosphere filled the car as both brothers listened to the radio, only one of them was cringing with disdain at some of the lyrics. After a while, Gilbert started again, turning down the volume of the radio.

“That’s the issue with these so-called romantic nations, they don’t think critically when they need to. Diving head first into situations with a bleeding heart only leaves you vulnerable and not to mention, with a fucking mess to clean up after”.

“You gotta be careful and tactical, don’t let emotions and feelings cloud your judgment and think with a straight mind about how to tackle the situation”.

He gets a firm nod with a determined resolve.

The radio's volume increased again. Neither Ludwig nor Gilbert had spoken for a while, and the world seemed to be at a standstill in the late hours of the night.

As the car slows down to a crawl, Ludwig blinks in confusion, taken aback by the sudden change in pace.

Then, an overwhelming surge of boiling anger courses through Ludwig's veins, threatening to consume him. 

The frustration within him intensifies, and he clenches his fist tightly, wanting to shatter the noisy radio into pieces.

Ludwig quickly realizes that his dear older brother had carefully arranged for someone to monitor her every action, collecting any possible information and meticulously organizing every aspect beforehand.

“Consider this a tutorial, huh?”,

Even though it is late, he observes that you radiate a lively energy, your laughter echoing loudly. A rosy hue adorns your cheeks, overflowing with an infectious joy that fills his heart with warmth, you looked so beautiful, even with tired eyes and wild, messy hair.

He doesn’t register his brother’s words. No, his eyes are on you. And some piece of swine who’s holding you so intimately, brown hair and judging by the light, he had gray eyes. Both of you looked like a youthful couple after a casual date. He didn’t know who he was, was he your date or just some random cousin?

Nonetheless, he had to go. Cut out of the picture, burnt, for all he cared.

“Was für eine Schönheit”

Ludwig’s eye twitches with barely contained jealousy.

[littlesistersti]

Here is a deleted scene :)

Photo by Alonso Reyes on Unsplash 

Marigalante pirate boat. Puerto Vallarta, Mexico

The book trailer to my fanfic that I may or may not ever get around to write it. I started writing it ages ago then started over from scratch and well, it’s still a work in progress. Anyways, “28 Month Pirate” / “28 Month Hai Tac” is a platonic Piratalia x F! Viet! Reader or a Hetalia x F! Viet! OC fanfic. For the keywords: Piratalia, Hetalia x Female, Vietnamese Reader or Original Character. The main character can be identified as either Y/N or Thuy. 

Even if the fanfic may never come to life, at least making this movie trailer was fun. Yes, there will be a majority of Pirate! Portugal, Spain, and England. Later on, France and Netherlands and select number of your fave Hetalia characters will show up, including a surprise appearance of someone that you might guess?? Wink wink nudge nudge? 

Technically, Vietnam and reader/Thuy are not Vietnamese since the story takes place during the Le Dynasty and the Dutch maps reads either Tonkin or Cochinechina. Historical things. 

⊹ ࣪ ﹏𓊝﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ࣪ ˖

☆彡 See my edits in full size on my Tumblr and VK. 

Credits below! Not in chronological order. 

Solo Portugal: World ☆ Stars manga - Chapter 428 https://www.tumblr.com/hetascanlations/685296012116508672/hetalia-world-stars-chapter-428-original?source=share, Art by @kuraudiart on Tumblr, commission for on Causitav on DeviantArt / mylofall on Instagram https://kuraudiart.tumblr.com/post/644874259259424768/pirate-portugal-this-is-a-colored-doodle

Solo England: Ayaka＠nico3a on Pixiv https://www.pixiv.net/en/artworks/23311273, https://www.pixiv.net/en/artworks/28768714 

Solo Spain: espino on Pixiv https://www.pixiv.net/en/artworks/92309156, @yaqamole Tumblr https://www.tumblr.com/yaqamole/677621542377701376/insert-the-pirates-who-dont-do-anythingfrom?source=share

Duo P+E: @rosesandalfazemas on Tumblr https://www.tumblr.com/rosesandalfazemas/757839423262031872/your-eyes-have-the-color-of-the-seas-lad-same?source=share

Duo E+S: Himaruya’s blob, 2009 Dec 31

Duo S+P: Spain art by tumblr vampelune (now dead link, refer to @porcellune) ; Portugal art by @romatito on tumblr

Trio: Hima-san’s blog, 2014 Nov 25

Scotland: @pyrokitten-284 on tumblr, shared on Hetalia community https://www.tumblr.com/communities/hetalia-community/post/773673675238080512/inspiration-struck-and-i-drew-this-man-last-night?source=share

Romano: @lore-55 on Tumblr https://www.tumblr.com/lore-55/755189282070740992/wtf-is-this-quality-day-one-spamanoweek2024?source=share

Ned: Hima’s blog, 2013 Nov 30 

Vietnam, sea: @bighugelargebig on Tumblr https://www.tumblr.com/bighugelargebig/749013324601196544/jai-entendu-la-mer?source=share

VN, pink: Chimco0k (current username @0ndaybia) on Tumblr https://www.tumblr.com/0ndaybia/760488993176584192/its-her-day?source=share | @chimco0k

V, duo: Hima’s blog, 2013 Nov 08

[Backgrounds]

Solo Portugal: Photo by Daniel Burka on Unsplash 

Solo Spain: Photo by Tahir Osman from Pexels: https://www.pexels.com/photo/a-round-glass-window-on-wooden-wall-11724841/, Photo by Martin Martz on Unsplash 

Duo E+S: Photo by Fabian Wiktor from Pexels: https://www.pexels.com/photo/seaside-994605/

Duo S+P: https://pixabay.com/photos/sailing-ship-port-summer-mast-7725132/ Image by WinterSa on Pixabay; Image by <a href="https://pixabay.com/users/wintersa-32922768/?utm_source=link-attribution&utm_medium=referral&utm_campaign=image&utm_content=7725132">Sascha Winter</a> from <a href="https://pixabay.com//?utm_source=link-attribution&utm_medium=referral&utm_campaign=image&utm_content=7725132">Pixabay</a>

Trio: Photo by Everett Bowes on Unsplash 

> Hat: Photo by Nick Karvounis on Unsplash 

[Stock videos]

Waves crashing – Video by Mario Krimer: https://www.pexels.com/video/a-sea-wave-crashing-against-a-rock-in-slow-motion-14902912/

Boat wake – Video by Kelly  from Pexels: https://www.pexels.com/video/wooden-boat-traversing-a-river-3978645/

Bubbles 🫧 – Video via Videvo https://www.videvo.net/video/scuba-bubbles/2715/#rs=video-box

Brush pen – Video by C ay: https://www.pexels.com/video/focused-woman-writing-with-traditional-brush-29955520/

Ship, ride – Video by ArtHouse Studio from Pexels: https://www.pexels.com/video/ships-sailing-in-the-ocean-4571675/

Ship, aerial – Video by Arpan Bhatia: https://www.pexels.com/video/aerial-footage-of-a-pirate-boat-in-the-sea-10094924/

Post-credit: “Pirate Goes To The Fog” by Grey_Coast_Media https://mixkit.co/free-stock-video/pirate-walking-through-fog-22460/ < https://elements.envato.com/pirate-goes-to-the-fog-7GDLFTX?utm_source=mixkit&utm_medium=referral&utm_campaign=elements_mixkit_referral_31JULY2024

[Stock photos]

Crow’s nest: Image by Michael K from Pixabay – https://pixabay.com/photos/pirate-ship-sail-masts-sea-ship-2254096/ 

Helm: Photo by Dmitrii Eliuseev on Unsplash 

Banister, maybe taffrail: Photo by Olga Nayda on Unsplash

Shrouds: Photo by Tanner Mardis on Unsplash

Hook: “Swordfight between Peter and Captain Hook.” Illustration by Francis D. Bedford for the 1911 edition of J.M. Barrie's 'Peter Pan.' https://fineartamerica.com/featured/8-barrie-peter-pan-1911-granger.html 

[Title card] Photo by Ylanite Koppens: https://www.pexels.com/photo/rope-on-a-map-14436274/

Song: Chikyuu Marugoto Hug Shitainda \ Let’s Hug the Earth  https://www.tumblr.com/hetalia-music/652288051110985728/song-chikyuu-marugoto-hug-shitainda-short-version?source=share

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓇼 ⋆.˚ 𓆉 𓆝 𓆡⋆.˚ 𓇼

(｡･ω･｡) thanks for making it to the bottom

[generational-atrophy]

HAIII could you write the heta men of your choice with a gn s/o who acts like a cat?? (rubbing their head in their arm while cuddling, BITING (affectionate), knocking shit over to get attention, and most catlike of all LAYING ON/CUDDLING THEM RIGHT WHEN THEY NEED TO GET UP)

hetalia romano, prussia, canada, russia, england, and america with a catlike s/o

1.1k words ~ gender neutral headcanons

tw: a couple suggestive implications, but thats it!

a/n: people who let me do guys of my choice i am hopelessly in love with you. thank you.

Romano

Romano is such a cat boyfriend, so good luck with that. Absolutely nothing is getting down in your household, I guess.

He finds your catlike affection cute for a bit, but it's definitely not his favourite. He'll happily cuddle whenever you want, just don't bite him! it's weird...

But he'd love how you always lay on him when he needs to do something. He didn't want to do it anyway. Now he has an adorable excuse!

When you push things off counters, he just doesn't care. Sure, he'll give you attention, but only briefly. His house is a mess, a broken glass is nothing new. Plus, he does the exact thing to you all the time.

Basically, he's fine with it. Would prefer a more... mature S/O, but internally he knows he's just as bad as you when it comes to that. Maybe that's why you get along so well!

Prussia

Gilbert will never let anyone know this... but he's secretly a cat person. His massive dog army would make you think differently, but trust me on this (;

He'd just think you're SO cute! It doesn't even register to him that what you're doing is weird. He's just like, “Oh, you're headbutting me? I'll headbutt you back.”

His intense touch starved-ness makes your clingy and cuddly nature a perfect fit for what he wants.

Knocking stuff off counters would also work crazy well on him. As soon as you do that, he's running over and desperately cleaning everything up. You've got his full attention. First, he'll ask if you're ok, and then he'll get pissed. He promises to “punish” you later too...

(By “punishment,” he means he's gonna make you watch his terrible nerd shows.)

If you tried laying on him to get him to stay, he's just pushing you off. If he's in a particularly affectionate mood, he'll stay for a few more moments, but generally, you're just gonna end up on the floor. He's got stuff to do!

Canada

Matthew just... really doesn't know how to handle your affection. He hasn't had any romantic partners in a long time, so his only real reference for modern love is TV shows. And... they definitely don't act like cats in those. Are you weird, or is he?

He'll be super awkwardly accepting of it. Ok, you're curled up in his lap... so he pets your hair, right? When he wakes up to you laid flat over his body like a blanket, he just... doesn't know what to do. Where does he put his hand? Does he push you off?

Eventually, he'll get it. Then he's gonna go full cat owner mode. Constantly checking in with you, making sure you're always entertained, and cuddling you constantly.

He doesn't appreciate you breaking things to get his attention though... like, he's always willing to give it to you! No questions asked! You don't have to go to such drastic measures to get a hug.

If you flop on his lap when he's about to get up, he's just gonna accept his fate. You'll get no protests from him. Just... let him know when you're done, k?

Russia

Ivan doesn't even question anything you do. He just finds your cat-like behaviours super cute! It just makes him want to indulge you more.

Whenever you force him to continue cuddling, he just laughs and concedes. He's never had such a clingy S/O, and it makes him want to protect you even more.

However, this kind of thing does make him infantilize you even more. But on the bright side, expect him to buy you lots of cute clothes and build pillow forts for you two often (He might buy you a collar too ;)

He really doesn't mind you biting him. Once he knows you're alright with it, he'll probably bite you back! It's a weird point of pride for him to be covered in your little teeth marks.

Surprisingly, he also doesn't mind you breaking things to get his attention! He finds it... oddly romantic. Like, oh, you care about me enough to cause damage to things? Wow, you're so dedicated! (He has... problems.)

Basically, a S/O that acts like a cat would be great. He's such a dog boyfriend anyway.

England

Arthur doesn't see this as “acting like a cat” as much as he sees it as “immaturity.” Surprisingly, unlike how he feels normally about childish S/O, your behaviour could really grow on him. Of course, he'll always huff and sigh when you rub yourself against his arm anyway, but still!

He WILL get very annoyed by you sitting on his lap while he's busy though. Like, if he's just reading, whatever. But if you interrupt him when he's about to do something, he's just forcing you off his lap and walking away.

Also, do NOT break his glasses. Pissing him off like that will only make him ignore you more. Besides, if you wanted a super attentive partner, you really shouldn't go for Arthur anyway.

But despite all that, he really adores your habit of biting him. As long as it's not too painful, he does get a kick out of it, weirdly. When he bites you, it's always in a more... sensual way, but he adores how you do it so affectionately.

Basically, yeah, he thinks you're cute. But it's easy for you to get on his nerves if you act like that.

America

Alfred... doesn't really mind. But he thinks it's more entertaining than cute. He definitely realizes what you're doing early on in the relationship, and loves to tease you about it.

But... he also can't help the urge to take care of you because of it. He makes sure to always leave cute little snacks in your bag in case of emergency, and he NEVER misses a call from you. He gets a little paranoid about you getting taken advantage of because of how immature you can be.

You can bite him. He probably wouldn't even notice you did so.

However you show affection, he'll reciprocate. He's not much into the headbutting thing himself, he's a lot more uh... traditional? But he loves it when you do it!

He has to resist squeezing your cheeks every day that he wakes up next to you. It keeps getting harder.

You pushing stuff off every surface doesn't make him mad per se, but he definitely doesn't enjoy that habit. (Specifically, he would buy a bell that means you want attention. It's much cuter that way, and also you aren't breaking his things.)

In conclusion: it would be a very sweet relationship (: