#💫 / alfred jones

[mimicmimikyuwrites]

Giving Him Head - (W/ America, England, Canada) x GN!Reader SMUT

Summary: Smutty little scenarios where you go down on some (America, England, Canada) of the nations. Yup. 💕

Contents/Possible Warnings: Oral sex (male receiving), Hair Pulling, praise kink (kinda), implication of multiple orgasms, SMUT, MDNI

America (Alfred F. Jones)

Alfred had always been fond of throwing large parties, a firm believer in "go big, or go home." The biggest one he threw each year had to be his birthday party. He could go all out with fireworks, cookouts, and every red-white-and-blue-colored food he could ever ask for or dream of having. The presents were a nice thing to get too, but you always gave him his favorites.

Usually, he'd receive it after everyone had left and gone home, leaving only the two of you, but today he wanted one a bit earlier, leading you to sneak off with him to a secluded area of the house while everyone remained outside.

"Fuckfuckfuck," he groaned, tugging at the locks of your hair while you sucked on his cock, stroking what you couldn't fit with your hand. He had been pent up all day, especially after seeing you dressed in the stars and stripes of his nation's flag. You looked irresistible to him for the entire day, so much so that he didn't think he'd make it this long without either of you touching each other.

"That's it, you're doing such a good fucking job," He praised, throwing his head back with a loud moan as you paid extra attention to the tip, swirling your tongue around it as the salty taste of pre-cum filled your mouth. He was being loud like he always did. It was his day today, and he'd be damned if he didn't enjoy every last bit of it.

He began to lightly thrust upwards, hips meeting the up-and-down bobbing of your head. You looked so beautiful like this, lips wrapped around his thick length while you looked up at him with half-lidded eyes filled with wanton desire. Oh, he was going to wreck you later after all the guests outside had returned home. You were his favorite birthday present, after all.

England (Arthur Kirkland)

Arthur was a composed man who did his best to act like a true gentleman to those around him, especially to you. He kept his words and actions proper, but no one can maintain their composure every moment of their life. Especially not when they have their partner on their knees for them and ready to please.

"Fuck," He cursed, the sound drawn-out and a lewd cross between a moan and a whine. He was rarely ever this vocal, but with your lips wrapped perfectly around his cock as you managed to take the whole of it inside your warm, wet mouth, he thinks he could forgive himself for being a little too loud. When you look up at him through eyes that look too innocent for the act you're doing, his composure slips even more.

"Just like that, love," he manages to get out shakily, already close from how well you're taking him. "You're going to make me cum." He moans, hands finding themselves buried in your hair, light pulling at your soft locks as you manage to take him in even deeper, your bobbing up and down with an increased speed.

The delicious, almost pathetic noise that escapes him makes something click inside if you, and you know things aren't finished here until he's a broken, babbling mess of the gentleman he portrays himself as. He was yours to ruin, after all.

Canada (Matthew Williams)

Matthew had always been a people-pleaser, more ready to do things for others than he was for others to do for him. He was a sweet man in every aspect, and you believed that type of good needed to be paid back double, even if he insisted that it didn't. It took a decent amount of coaxing and reassurance to get him in the position you were in now.

"P-Please–" He stuttered out, only to let out a loud gasp that turned into a whiny moan as you swallowed his cock whole. He didn't know what he was begging for; was it more? Was it less? He didn't know anything other than that the warm wetness of your mouth around him felt overwhelmingly good. He had already cum once, but you showed no intent on stopping.

He was already close again; the sight of you on your knees in front of him, combined with the way you were taking him, was growing to be too much for him to handle. His hands found themselves grabbing at the bedsheets below as he tried to delay what was to come and enjoy the moment a little longer, but you grabbed them, moving them to your hair.

"Pull it, be as rough as you want, I won't break." You told him quickly before your mouth returned back to his cock. He let out a soft moan, experimentally tugging on your locks, pleasantly surprised when a moan of your own left you while you continued to bring your head up and down. Maybe, just maybe, getting rewarded for his good deeds wasn't so bad after all.

[shootmevalentine]

Personal Blinkies

If any of them fit you, you're free to use them, too.

[mimicmimikyuwrites]

I Love You's - (W/ America, Russia, England, Canada) x GN!Reader

Summary: Little fluffy scenarios where some of my favorite nations tell a gn!reader "I love you" 💕

Contents/Possible Warnings: Lots of fluff, kinda angsty tho for a lot of them, hurt with comfort, gn!reader

America (Alfred F. Jones)

He never thought he'd fall in love. It wasn't something Alfred avoided, but it also wasn't something he ever sought out. He had accomplished a lot in the relatively short period he had been around, he was still young and had opportunities to chase, and with that, he never imagined he'd have the time for romance. Still, things happened and now you were here with him, and there wasn't a happier man in the entirety of the world. With you beside him, he couldn't ask for anything better.

You were beautiful, so beautiful; both inside and out. Your hair was soft, your eyes captivated him, you understood him entirely, you loved him! He could go on forever, gushing about his awesome partner. You were the definition of perfection to him, flawed or not. He was head over heels.

"Love attack!" He nearly shouted while you were watching a movie with him in the living room one night, cupping your face in his hands as he began to pepper it with kisses. It startled you, but you loved it. One thing you adored about him was how he never tried to hide his affections. He was in love, and he'd be damned if he didn't show it.

You giggled, lightly pushing on his chest as he kissed every part of your face he could, now laughing himself. He kissed your forehead, your now reddened cheeks, your nose, and your cheeks again. When he was done he pulled back, grinning at the sight of your flustered, but happy expression.

"You missed, silly," you smiled playfully, pulling him back in before kissing him sweetly, satisfied hums escaping you both. You loved him, and you made sure to convey that with every movement of your lips together.

"I love you," He said between kisses. "My honey, my love, my baby, my sweetheart, my everything." It was true, you were his everything. He didn't want to live fast anymore, jumping at every opportunity, not when his most important one was right in front of him, and had such kissable lips, too.

Russia (Ivan Braginsky)

It was a well-known fact to those who had ever visited that Russia's house was more than just cold. It was freezing, something which you still weren't used to, even after all the years you had spent living with him. It got even colder during the night, and blankets could only do so much.

Ivan always hated the cold, the connection between it and the isolation he had endured throughout his life unable to be undone. Things were different now, though. He had you with him, someone to warm his heart, especially during those frigid nights he had dreaded so much.

"Ivan," you called out to him from the bed, wrapped up in multiple thick blankets that seemed to do nothing to keep you from shivering. "Come to bed, дорогой" You spoke with a tired smile, the last word making him melt as it left your mouth. 'Darling,' you had called him in his native tongue. He was your darling.

As he slipped into your shared bed with you he wrapped his arms around you, holding you close, his eyes closed in relaxation and bliss as he nuzzled his face into your hair. You made him feel warm, and that's all he ever truly wanted out of life. Someone to love, and someone to love him back.

"я тебя люблю." He mumbled against you, smiling softly. "мое солнышко." You were his sunshine, a ray of light shining through despite the clouds. He moved his head out of your hair and leaned down, capturing your lips in a sweet kiss. "Promise me you'll never leave," he told you, caressing your cheek gently. To anyone else, that would've sounded like a demand, but to you it was a request for comfort.

"I'm not going anywhere," You reassured him, kissing his cheek. "I love you, Ivan. With all of my heart. я тебя люблю."

England (Arthur Kirkland)

Having done so much throughout his history, Arthur savored quiet moments, even if they were little ones. The moments when he wasn't busy, and the moments when he wasn't plagued with the harsh realities of the world. His favorite moments, however, involved you.

You were kinder than anyone else he had ever met in his centuries of being alive, a true angel. You were his everything, the love of his life, so much so that he wondered how he had gone so long without you. When you were with him he didn't feel so distant from everyone else; he felt wanted.

You were curled up next to him on the couch, your arms wrapped around him as you leaned your head against his shoulder, simply enjoying his company while a television show neither of you were paying much attention to played in the background.

The one bad thing about these quiet moments was the rare opportunity for his mind to drift into places, or more so memories, that he'd rather not think about. He had fought with so many people throughout his life, some of which he had cherished. In the end, everyone left him, sooner or later, a distance soon growing. Were you the next one to leave...? What if you two had an argument one day, and you decided you couldn't stand being around him anymore? What if he—

"Arthur," your voice reached his ears, tone gentle and soft. Then, your hand came forward to cup his face, carefully turning his head towards you. "You're overthinking again, love." You frowned, making an observation. "Do you want to talk about it?" He shook his head.

"No. It's nothing we haven't already discussed." He replied, smiling at you sadly. "It's my own insecurities, nothing you need to worry about, dear." With this, your frown grew before you leaned in, kissing him lovingly.

"I love you," He muttered against your lips, emerald green eyes looking into yours with an adoration reserved only for you. "I love you so much." He meant it with every part of his being. Even with his fears, deep down, he knew you wouldn't abandon him, because you loved him with every part of your being, too.

Canada (Matthew Williams)

He was used to being forgotten. Always the quiet one, he was easily overlooked, even by those closest to him. Honestly, he didn't know how he managed to start dating you, or get you to notice he was there. To him, he wasn't anything special, just maple leaves and the friend of a bear who barely knew who he was. He didn't deserve you.

"Matthew," You smiled at him one morning over breakfast. "I've been practicing my French recently, thought it'd be useful, y'know? Can I speak to you a bit and get your feedback? I'm not too good at it yet..."

He nodded, returning your smile. You were so smart, so clever, so cute. You were always trying to learn new things, especially when it came to him and his nation. You never forget about him, you were so sweet, so unique, and he was just... himself.

"Hmm..." You hummed in faux contemplation, acting like you were trying to remember what you were going to say. You knew exactly what was on your mind. "Why don't I start with a pretty common phrase? Je t'iame." He blushed at your words. You told him that every day without fail, but hearing it in French felt different somehow, more meaningful in a way.

"Y-You said it excellently." He stuttered out, heart racing as you looked into his amethyst eyes, a gleam of admiration for him in your own.

"Ooh! Let me try out another phrase, then," You grinned, leaning forward slightly over the table. "These ones are a bit more complicated. Tu es l’amour de ma vie. Tu es mon âme sœur," the words poured out from your lips, the sound like music to his ears. You said it perfectly, how long had you been practicing? You must've put in a lot of effort...

"Woah!" You gasped, standing up from your seat at the sight of small tears welling up in his eyes. You rushed over to him, holding his face gently in your hands as your thumbs wiped away his tears. "I didn't mean to make you cry—"

He sniffled, standing up to wrap you in a tight embrace. "I don't deserve you," He whispered, voice shaky. He was happy, so happy. He loved you, and he'd never stop. "Je t’aime de tout mon cœur," he told you with love, pressing a kiss to your forehead as he did so. "I love you with all my heart," he clarified with a small chuckle after you shot him a confused look.

"How do I say that, but back to you?" You questioned, tilting your head slightly in curiosity. Adorable, you were beyond adorable. He chuckled again, answering you only but kissing you lovingly. He'd teach you soon enough, but for now, he was focused on expressing his love for you in ways that involved less French.

[mimicmimikyuwrites]

Cooking Together - (W/ America, England, Canada, Russia, France) x GN!Reader

Summary: Cute little scenarios where you cook together with some of the nations. 💕

Contents/Possible Warnings: A lot of food mentions, fluff, like a ton of fluff, slightly suggestive/flirty dialogue and implications (nothing outright not sfw), major emphasis on how England cannot cook

America (Alfred F. Jones)

There were both pros and cons to the situation you found yourself in. The pros were that the kitchen smelled nicely of apples and cinnamon, but the cons were that the flour had only been out for a few minutes and it was already everywhere. Still, the smell of cinnamon was nice; so you had that going for you.

Despite the state of the room around you, your boyfriend was not deterred in the slightest. In fact, he was practically bursting with excitement, humming a song as he formed the dough that the flour had been used for into a pie crust. A fresh apple pie was the end goal, and he couldn't be more thrilled. The way those handsome, baby blue eyes of his were shining with pure glee had you melting.

"I haven't baked in so long!" He exclaimed, grinning at you while you worked on the pie filling in the bowl in front of you, the scent of nutmeg in the air now joining the smell of cinnamon. "Hold on," He told you suddenly, reaching out to cup your face in his hands. "You've got something on your lips." With that, he kissed you sweetly, smiling into the kiss as his lips moved against yours.

"There we go," He spoke, pulling away once he was done, looking satisfied with himself. "All taken care of." You chuckled, your cheeks a light shade of red. "Did I really have something on my lips, or did you just want to kiss me, Alfred?"

"Both. You tasted like sugar, literally." He laughed, kissing you again, much quicker this time. "It isn't even done yet, but you might be sweeter than the apple pie is, babe." He teased with a small smirk.

"If we hurry up you can have both, you know."

You didn't need to say that twice. He did go fast when he was motivated, after all, especially with an awesome two-for-one deal. Needless to say, you both shared a lot of kisses that tasted like sugary, cinnamony apples that day.

England (Arthur Kirkland)

As much as you didn't want to admit it because it sounded harsh, Arthur Kirkland could not cook or bake anything without it going horribly wrong, even when it came to the dishes he had been 'perfecting' for years now. Fish and chips? That would burn. Beef wellington? Overcooked and inedible. His infamous scones? Ash. If you weren't used to it by now, the results of his cooking would scare you.

Speaking of scones, he tried to make them at least once every month or two, and surprisingly, nothing had yet to catch on fire. It made your heart break without fail every time you saw him look at his failed attempts, though.

"Arthur? Love?" You approached him one night, having already gone out to the store and bought every ingredient you'd need from the scone recipe you'd found online (you weren't going to risk using his. It might very well have been cursed.) "Do you want to bake with me? It could be an unplanned date night." You smiled at him warmly. You were his biggest soft spot, and he always gave in to those smiles of yours.

"Of course, dear." He smiled back, placing the book he had been reading down. "Oh! We should bake scones, I haven't made any in a while, and you love my scones, don't you?" You nodded, your smile faltering a bit as you remember the last time you tried his scones. They were burnt, of course, but you still managed to put on a smile and tell him how good it was in a little white lie.

"I was thinking the same thing." You responded, leading him to the kitchen to show him that you had already prepared everything. Every measurement was made and ready, all he had to do now was put it in a bowl, mix, and then bake. Easy as that. Or you hoped.

"This must've taken you a while, love." He observed, smile widening at the sight. You were so sweet to him! He never liked the whole measuring part, and here you had done it all for him. He could swoon over just how much he loved you. "Let's get started!" He exclaimed, overflowing with excitement.

With you guiding him along, things came out more than edible, they looked delicious! Instead of a hardened, blackened mess, the scones looked almost exactly like the picture in the recipe as you pulled them out of the oven.

"Look, Arthur!" You grinned, showing him the tray before setting it down. "You did it! These look bakery-worthy—" You let out a surprised gasp as he pulled you into a celebratory kiss, soon melting into it.

"Aha! Now France can't say I don't know how to cook!" He beamed, causing you to begin laughing. If he was happy, then so were you.

Canada (Matthew Williams)

Mornings with Matthew were always something you looked forward to. Waking up in his arms, combing your fingers through his soft, messy blond hair, and giving him his well-deserved 'good morning' kisses. It was a pure domestic bliss that you wouldn't trade for anything else in the world.

"What do you want for breakfast, hon?" He asked softly, still cuddled up next to you in bed. Another great thing about mornings with him was his cooking. Every day without fail he made you something mouth-watering good. Whether it was something simple or more complex, everything he made showed his love for you, even if cooking seemed to be a bit mundane to some people.

"Pancakes? Ooh! Blueberry pancakes." You replied happily, a small laugh leaving him in response. He blushed slightly, finding your enthusiasm both endearing and adorably cute. "Let me help you make 'em," you insisted with a grin. He laughed again before leaning into you, unable to resist kissing you when you were this adorable.

It didn't take long for you to find yourselves in the kitchen, hugging him from the side as you watched him cook. The blueberry-filled batter you had made turned out amazingly, and you were eager to see the results of your work in the form of masterly crafted pancakes.

When they were all done and covered in Matthew's favorite maple syrup you both sat down to eat, talking about whatever crossed your minds as you ate your breakfasts and sipped your coffee. It was moments like this why you savored and enjoyed your mornings with him, these moments where you two engaged in quality time and you were reminded just why you had fallen in love with him.

Oh, not to mention you also liked how his lips tasted like maple syrup when you were kissing him afterward, too.

Russia (Ivan Braginsky)

Before he met you he was used to doing everything alone, including having meals. He had no one to share his favorite dishes with, and eating was always a lonely activity when the seat next to him at the dinner table was empty. When you came along things weren't so isolating anymore.

Cooking dinner together had become a staple in your relationship early on, the act being used as a way to spend some quality time together in a simpler fashion. It was something that you two used to bond when you were still getting used to each other. Cooking wasn't just making a meal for you, it was a display of priceless non-physical intimacy.

"That tickles, Ivan," you giggled, feeling him nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck as you sauteed the meat and stirred the sauce you'd need for the meal you were making, the tall Russian towering over you from behind as he held you gently. "You're really affectionate today, дорогой."

He let out a happy hum in reply, pressing a soft kiss to your neck. "You're cute today, мое солнышко. How could I not be?" You smiled at his compliment before grabbing a spoon and scooping a bit of the sauce inside of the pot in front of you, turning around to face him. "Open up," you said, moving the spoonful toward his mouth and letting him taste what you had made.

"Very good," He told you after tasting the sauce. "You're starting to cook like a professional, дорогой. I don't think I've ever had a better beef stroganoff sauce." You blushed, tilting your head to the side. "Really?" It really must've been good if he hadn't tasted a better version of a dish he had eaten countless times over the decades.

"You're being cute again," He chuckled, a warmth growing in his chest at the sight of you. He loved you and these moments together so, so much.

France (Francis Bonnefoy)

French cuisine wasn't known for being regarded as some of the best in the world for no reason. Living in Paris with your boyfriend who was fond of dinner dates led you to witness firsthand why France was seen as a leader in the culinary arts. As much as you loved going to a fancy restaurant and sipping wine while you ate with Francis, you wanted tonight's date to be a bit less extravagant.

All you wanted was to cook with him at home and share a simple night over a home-cooked meal. Luckily, your boyfriend wasn't opposed to the idea in the slightest.

"This is romantic, oui?" He questioned with a pleased smile as he poured you a glass of wine (nothing too expensive, per your own request). "A night in with mon amour. What could be better?" He smiled, handing you your glass. "I'm a chef magnifique, so you'll be served food better than any restaurant can offer."

He wasn't exaggerating, either. As your date commenced, you were pleasantly surprised to see how talented he was when it came to both cooking the main course and baking the dessert of raspberry macarons. The only downside was that the macarons were harder to make than they looked.

"Mine look weird compared to yours," you observed, looking over to see his work. "I think I keep piping in too much jam..." He looked over at yours, nodding in agreement. "Oui. But they'll still taste good, non?" His gaze then traveled to your lips, and he smirked. "You have jam on your face, mon amour."

He leaned in, kissing you lovingly, making sure to get rid of that raspberry jam he was talking about. You tasted beyond sweet, and that wasn't just because of the macaron filling. "You know, I wouldn't mind tasting something else tonight other than the food we made, chérie~"

"Let's eat first, Francis," you replied with a playful roll of your eyes. He was a flirt, but he was still yours.

[mimicmimikyuwrites]

America (Alfred F. Jones) x Fem!Reader Smut Headcanons

Summary: Another one of my short, smut-filled rambles in the form of headcanons. 💕

Contents/Possible Warnings: Cunnilingus, Rough sex, degradation, praise kink, creampie, unprotected sex, SMUT, MDNI

First things first, this man is the opposite of submissive. Whether he's on top of you or below you, this man is not surrendering his control easily. He's one of the world's most powerful nations, and he's going to act cocky and assertive enough to portray that.

He likes a mixture of degradation and praise when it comes to you. Letting you know just how much of a slut you are for him is something he finds beyond hot, but he still wants you to know how good you're doing for him.

"Good girl." & "You're taking me so well." Are some of his favorites.

This man is either rough and fast or soft and sweet with you, there is no in-between. While he's outgoing, young, and attractive, he's still not that experienced when it comes to things, so he struggles to find a middle ground. Depending on how you like things, you're probably going to have to communicate what you want with him a lot; whether it be a simple "faster," or "slow down!"

He's still a caring partner regardless of his inexperience. Sex is supposed to feel amazing, so he's going to make sure you're both feeling good, but your pleasure always comes first.

Alfred LOVES to eat pussy. He will devour you if given the chance. He's messy and eager, but skilled. His end goal when eating you out is to make sure you're a broken, fucked-out mess, with no room for negotiation.

He's got stamina, expect him to be able to go multiple rounds if you're up for it. He's making you cum as many times as possible, too. It's like a reward for him that has bonus points if your legs are shaking afterward.

He's a thigh man. He likes to grab at your thighs and hold them while he fucks you, and after he's cum inside of you he likes to watch it drip down your thighs. The sight makes him feral.

He's also not opposed to just cumming on your thighs outright.

All in all, Alfred is someone whose eagerness and willingness to please makes up for any lack of experience he may have. I love him so much, thank you for reading my ramble.

[mimicmimikyuwrites]

Bomber Jacket - America (Alfred F. Jones) x Fem!Reader SMUT

Summary: Cleaning out your shared closet with your boyfriend leads to the discovery of his old bomber jacket, a jacket that you think looks a bit too good on him. So good that you can't keep your hands to yourself and one thing leads to another.

Contents/Possible Warnings: Uniform kink (?), P in V sex, small choking mention/implication, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex, creampie, cunnilingus, clothed sex, degradation, orgasm denial, Dom!America, SMUT, MDNI

It had been ages since you had cleaned out your closet. While it was still organized enough to fulfill its purpose, what wasn't organized properly was starting to get a bit on your nerves. So, on a day that was free for both you and Alfred you decided to spend it cleaning out the closet in question and moving what wasn't needed elsewhere. You just weren't expecting to find piece after piece of clothing that was so old it could probably be donated to a museum, even if it was his closet before it also became yours.

"Is this an authentic cowboy hat, Alfred?" You asked, holding up the hat and showing it to him, having found it in a box shoved to the back of the closet. "This feels way too high quality to be part of one of your Halloween costumes. How old is this?" Even though it was kinda weird finding all of these historical items just sitting in your closet, you had to admit you were intrigued.

"Hmm..." He took the hat from you, examining it closely as he thought, and then he grinned widely. "Oh! I remember now. I used to wear this a lot back when the 'Wild West' really earned its name. So that would've been about... 1870? 1880? It was an awesome time to explore!" He put the hat on, moving over to the nearby mirror so he could adjust it.

You had to admit that there was something about it that made him handsome as he wore it. You blushed lightly, looking away from him ad you felt the beginnings of a heat begin to pool between your legs. You were here to clean, you reminded yourself, you had to get things done first. You took a deep breath before returning back to your sorting, grabbing another box deep in the closet.

By now America had joined you again where you were, looking over your shoulder to see what this new box contained. You reached in, your hands coming in contact with a thick, somewhat soft fabric. Pulling it out, you found it to be a brown bomber jacket that looked decently old, and slightly familiar, almost like you had seen it or something similar in a documentary somewhere.

"Dude!" He exclaimed, watching as you took it out. "That's my old jacket! They had me wear that back during World War Two when they had me go to a lot of places!" He grabbed the box from you, shuffling through it and pulling out the rest of the outfit; a white dress shirt, an olive green tie, a tan jacket and pants, and finally a pair of black gloves. He motioned for you to hand him the bomber jacket and you did so.

"I'm gonna go change into this! Take care of my hat for me, babe!" He exclaimed with a grin, handing you his cowboy hat before running into the bathroom, eager to try on his old uniform for the first time in decades. When he came out you swore you were about to faint from how fast your heart began to beat in your chest.

If you had thought the hat made him look handsome, then this ensemble of his must've made him the definition of it. The uniform gave him a certain air of authority that had you growing wet from the sight alone, the arousal from not too long ago returning, but much stronger this time around. It was the first time you had ever seen him in any of the old uniforms he owned.

"Are you blushing, baby?" He teased, approaching you, a gloved hand coming out to caress your now-flushed cheek. You took a shaky breath as you felt the material of the glove touch your skin, your mind instantly jumping to ideas of how that same material would feel against much more intimate areas of your body, or even wrapped around your neck.

"N-Need you," you stuttered out, pushing yourself closer to him so your bodies were touching, your breasts pushed up against his chest. "Need you now." You said clearer, pulling at his tie. "I want you to fuck me in that jacket." He chuckled, a smirk on his face and lustful desire in his eyes before he leaned forward, bringing you into a kiss that didn't take long to grow heated.

His hands roamed your body as he kissed you with fervor, grabbing at whatever he could, an action that pulled out a moan from you as you led him over to the bed; the two of you falling onto it with you beneath him. You let out a small gasp against his lìps as you felt his hardened cock poking against your thigh through his tan slacks, surprised but delighted to know he was just as turned on as you were, even during the short duration.

"I may be keeping these clothes on, but you aren't keeping on yours. Take 'em off." He demanded, looking down at you with darkened, baby-blue eyes. You obeyed, tugging off your shirt and pants, throwing them to the floor at the side of the bed. Next, you undid the clasp of your bra, letting it slide down your shoulders and off of you before the garment also joined your other clothing on the floor.

You moaned softly as he kneaded at one of your exposed breasts, the texture of the glove on his hand adding to your pleasure as he ran a thumb over one of your erect nipples. "You've got a perfect body, baby," he praised, taking in the sight of your almost completely naked form. "And it's all for me, isn't it? You wouldn't dare let anyone else touch you, would you?"

His hands moved down to your thighs, and you spread them on instinct, giving him more access to the part of you that badly needed him. He didn't even have to touch you to know that you were soaking. You were already shaking slightly, your eyes glazed over in desperation as you bit your lip, eagerly waiting to see what he'd do to you next. With one quick movement, he pulled off your panties, showing that his assumption was right; you were extremely wet.

His head dipped down, blond locks brushing against your inner thighs as he brought his tongue to taste you, your hands burying themselves into his hair as he did so. Your back arched and your eyes screwed shut in pleasure at the feeling of him lapping at your pussy, moaning against you as he did.

"Alfred—Fuck, yes," You praised, pulling at his hair to guide him where you needed him. "Just like that." His mouth moved to suck at your clit, his arms holding your legs in place as they began to shake from the new level of intense pleasure. He continued his movements, eating you out like a man starved.

"Gonna cum!" You announced, gripping his hair harder as your orgasm neared. "Alfred! Fuck, I'm gonna—" You let out a whine as his mouth left your clit abruptly. "Don't you fucking dare," he growled in a warning, looking up at you from between your legs. "You wanted to be fucked so bad, so that's how you're going to cum. Now, be a good girl instead of a brat, and let me finish what I started."

You bit your lip, taking in deep breaths in an attempt to delay the inevitable as he continued lapping and sucking at your wet cunt. He was going to break you before he was even inside of you, and he knew it. You tried to hold on, but with every movement of his tongue against you your restraint slipped. Before you knew it you were cumming on his tongue, the American greedily slurping up your release despite the fact you had gone against his orders.

"'M sorry," you panted out, eyes watering from the intensity of your orgasm and the knowledge you had disobeyed him. "It felt too good."

He moved out from between your legs, kissing you. "Don't apologize, I didn't expect you to last anyway. Dumb little things like you don't listen, do they? That's okay, you're still mine at the end of the day." He spoke in a sweet tone laced heavy with condescension.

He unzipped his pants, pulling his cock out; thick, hard, and dripping with precum at the tip. One of his hands rested on your hip while the other lined himself up with your pussy, a singular sharp thrust forward putting him inside of you, a breathy moan of your name leaving his lips at the feeling of your tight heat.

"Fuck," he cursed, setting off with a quick pace that did nothing to hide just how desperate he was for you, too. You could feel him pulsing inside of you with each thrust, and hear the symphony of groans and other pleasure-filled noises that left him as he fucked you. You had always been irresistible to him in more ways than one; every single thing about you was captivating.

Your breasts bounced with each movement of hips against yours, the bed creaking beneath you as he got faster with each passing moment; the lewd sounds of your exchange filling the room. Each thrust of his cock inside of you sent ecstasy coursing through your body and you were struggling to keep yourself grounded. He was fucking you stupid.

You gripped at his bomber jacket, the same thing that led you to this moment, unable to do anything but that and look into his eyes with your own, glazed-over ones. He pressed a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss to your lips, groaning as he did so, the pleasure starting to get to him as well.

"S-So good– So fucking good for me," he managed to get out, grabbing you by the hips to wrap your legs around his waist, a position that made go deeper into you. This change led to him hitting your sweet spot head-on with the tip of his cock, making you let out a loud cry.

"Right there! Alfred!" You exclaimed, throwing your head back, your grip on his jacket tightening. He let out a long moan as your cunt clenched around him, signaling that your second orgasm of the night was close. His hand moved down to rub your clit as his thrusts began to lose rhythm, his own orgasm nearing.

"You're gonna cum for me, yeah? Be a good fucking girl and cum on my cock," he growled out, hips snapping against yours. Your orgasm overtook you like a tidal wave as you came around him, your release triggering his as he came deep inside of you, filling you to the brim.

He struggled to keep himself from collapsing on top of you as he pulled out, watching as his cum leaked out of your pussy and onto the bedsheets underneath. He laid down next to you, both of you catching your breaths and coming down from your orgasmic highs.

"Damn," He let out a small chuckle. "That was intense. Didn't know this old uniform would lead me to have some pretty awesome sex when I first got it, but I'm not complaining. You let out a small, tired laugh, laying your head on his chest and cuddling up next to him.

"Maybe we could find some other uniforms? I'm sure I have a few more lying around." He suggested with a smug grin. You didn't respond, instead, you closed your eyes, exhaustion seeping it's way through your body.

"That's for another day. If we go another round, I'll pass out, hon." You half-joked as he began to comb his fingers through your messy hair. "Maybe you're onto something, though. Who knows, I might save a horse and ride a cowboy with that hat of yours one day."

[shootmevalentine]

F/Os List

Romantic:

🌱 Tilly Green (Big City Greens)

🐸 Cricket Green (Big City Greens)

🌳 Bill Green (Big City Greens)

🌼 Dot Warner (Animaniacs)

🪤 Julia (Animaniacs)

🧼 Bloberta (Moral Orel)

☔️ Envy (Inside Out)

🔪 Himiko Toga (Boku No Hero Academia)

🔥 Touya Todoroki (Boku No Hero Academia)*

💫 Alfred Jones (Hetalia)

🧤 Kyle Broflovski (South Park)

❓ Kenny McCormick (South Park)

🐈 Karen McCormick (South Park)

🐾 Bandit Heeler (Bluey)

🏹 Kyborg (Tales From The Stinky Dragon)

🪡 Mirabel Madrigal (Encanto)

🎭 Bruno Madrigal (Encanto)

🌹 Dolores Madrigal (Encanto)

🌦️ Pepa Madrigal (Encanto)

🌈 Molly McGee (The Ghost And Molly McGee)

🐦 Dick Grayson (DC)

🪺 Damian Wayne (DC)

🍩 Homer Simpson (The Simpsons)

*I only selfship with the child version of Touya.