#hetalia prussia headcanon

[artist-kili]

Prussia's handwriting is illegible by today's standards. He writes in a mashed up mess of Sütterlin, Kurrent, and nerve-damaged muscle weakness. (Examples under the cut)

Sütterlin (1924 - 1941 in Germany) Example:

Kurrentschrift (12th/13th century until the mid of the 20th century):

[yawujin]

uggh i genuinely can't remember if you've done this already (ignore if so!) buuuut could i req with allies and axis seeing their s/o wear their clothes? i absolutely love these type of scenarios i could never get tired of em lol

heyy !! i really love these scenarios too! i think they're adorable, so thanks for the request 🤍

{ request } allies & axis | wearing their clothes ♥︎

type • established relationship , romantic relationship , cute , light hearted , scenarios , imagines , china is RICHH , england is a little intimidated(?)

❥ allies

america/alfred f. jones

he takes one look at them and smiles. who knew that his bomber jacket could look so cute─and stylish ─on his love?

a thought pops into his mind; he should get them a matching jacket! now wouldn't that look nice?

"stay right there!" he exclaims, going on to grab his phone to take a quick photo. "...and pose!" he jokes. he needed to capture how darling they looked in his clothing <3

england/arthur kirkland

they call his name, to which he just replies with a "yes?"

barely looking up from an article in the papers that has caught his attention, england sees his love wearing his very own forest green uniform blazer. he takes a double take and just stares.

he wants to say they look fantastic, elegant, stunning, distinguished. all those wonderful discriptors of how great they look in this moment.

he blinks, looking away. england is clearing his throat and swallows hard before speaking: "you look nice," he kicks himself for not speaking up. "come sit." which is subtle wording for 'oh god, come sit next to me so i can be in your presense for a little while longer'

france/francis bonnefoy

france is not one to hide his feelings. he lets them manifest however he sees fit, which usually is on his face.

his eyes go wide when he sees that his love is wearing his clothes, rushing towards them to get a better look.

france give them compliment after compliment , admiring how it looks while they're wearing it, to commenting how the colors bring out their eyes.

"you already look good in whatever you wear, so it's only natural you look good in my clothes."

canada/matthieu williams

when they joke around with the idea of them "stealing" his clothes, canada welcomes them to dig through his closet anytime to find more clothes that they think will fit and/or look good on themselves

he didn't know what he was expecting them to find, but he didn't expect them to look this adorable while wearing them

"maybe you should wear sweatshirts more often, eh?"

russia/ivan braginski

he's confused on why they would want to wear his clothes since they are so big they'll just end up not fitting them.

"if you need to be warmer, just come to me for hugs, yes?"

he's not going to admit how much he adores seeing them wear clothes that big in size 🫢 nope

china/yao wang

he takes one look at them and figures 'no, this won't do' and takes them shopping immediately

they want to tell him that they weren't implying that they wanted a new wardrobe 😭 but all the beautiful expensive clothing inside the store was so captivating

"there, see? now you don't have to wear mine"

they kind of just wanted to see if china would think they were cute or not, but new clothes works good too ദ്ദി´▽`)

❥ axis

n. italy/feliciano vargas

"ve...since when do you look so stylish?" italy flirts with them

he thinks they look really cute in his clothes, although they are only slightly bigger on them

nevertheless, he invites them to borrow any of his clothes from his closet anytime <3

germany/ludwig beilschmidt

he's kind of just staring in awe. he hadn't realized that his clothes could look that big on somebody else.

in typical germany fashion, he asks for them to fold his clothing neatly after they are done wearing them

he steps away for a while with the image of them in his clothes stuck in his head. he can feel his own heartbeat speed up. verdammt. he thinks to himself. that was so cute. they're so cute...

japan/kiku honda

similar to china, japan sees this act as a subtle hint that his love wants to buy clothing just like his

"if you wanted to match shirts with me , you could have just asked..."

he thinks about it a second more and a visible flush of pale red appears on his face. japan begins to blush at the thought of you two wearing matching clothes/pyjamas 🫣

prussia/gilbert beilschmidt

doesn't think much of it other than the fact that of course they would want to wear his clothes...they're awesome, he's awesome

"are they comfy?"

he asks half jokingly. when they say yes, his smile widens and he tells them that they're welcome to wear his clothes all they want. maybe his awesomeness will rub off on them too

s. italy/lovino vargas

he wants to tell them that they look funny, dorky, and just outright ridiculous while wearing his clothes

oh, but he can't...he thinks that them wearing his own clothes is actually pretty adorable

"yeah, you're cute. now give them back." he huffs

that image of them will now replay in his head for the rest of the week day

[shtibididopdopyesyes]

Hetalia characters I HC as smokers

• England: cigarette smoker • Russia: cigarette smoker • Canada: week smoker • Romano: cigarette smoker • Prussia: vape smoker • Austria: cigarette smoker • Latvia: cigarette smoker • Liechtenstein: vape smoker, she also has tried cigarettes, hookah and weed (plz don't tell Switzerland) • Nethetlands: weed smoker • Turkey: cigarette and hookah smoker • Greece: cigarette smoker • Bulgaria: cigarette smoker • Cuba: cigar smoker

[forsoobado137]

Hetalia characters when a baby stares at them

[foolilazuli]

Do you think Germany has a lot anxiety about his brother dying one day, since the country of Prussia doesn’t exist anymore

Prussia: It might rain soon, I can feel it in my knees (or whatever other things old people say)

Germany, trying to hold back tears: Stop that, you’re not old. You still have more years in you!

[despairgal2312]

Headcanon:

Would nations take notes or not during class?

Germany: Yes. Neat and precise notes organized by topic to make it easier to study.

Italy: No. If you asked for his notes, he’d show you a series of pretty and artist-like drawings of Germany.

Japan: Yes, but only until he notices Italy (who I’ve now decided will be his desk mate) drawing Germany. He gets inspired and starts drawing GerIta and passing his drawings to Hungary.

America: Yes, but it’s just a bunch of notes scribbled around his book, probably surrounded by doodles of himself with a hero cape.

England: Yes, but he only jots down what he finds important, the rest of the time he draws various magical creatures on a sketchbook.

France: No. He’d much rather write stuff on paper planes and send them to Spain and Prussia (who I suppose are desk mates).

Prussia: Yes, surprisingly. Like England, he only writes the important part ‘cause he’s busy writing stuff on France’s paper planes and sending them back.

Spain: No. He’s busy making paper planes and sending them to France, but his paper planes are actually empty and he only makes them to kill time. This often upsets the other two.

Romano: Yes. He’s actually very good at taking notes. If you read them, though, you would find parts where he summarized the point with something like “and then the king fucked up and lost a lot of the land”.

Hungary: No. She waits for Japan to pass her his drawings and then starts writing headcanons behind them.

These are all those which I could clearly see in my head. Sorry if I didn’t put all of the allies.

To make up for it, here’s my idea of how the classroom could look like. (Again, this is not everyone, sorry).

If you have any other opinion or want to add characters, I’d be happy to read it!

[goldenstarprincesses]

Imagine nations having something really embarrassing happen to them. It could result in a death or simply be a whacky dare that they are forced to do.

They go on with their life thinking "wow, sure am glad no one saw that happen!"

Only to be flipping through the channels one night, some years or even decades later, to find out an entire Unsolved Mysteries episode about it. In horror, they quickly Google it. Only to find out an entire Reddit page dedicated to it, hundreds of YouTube videos, and TikTok's with millions of views.

[crimson-kisses]

Duetsche Zunge

Characters/Fandoms/Pairings: Yandere! Gilbert Beilschmeidt || Prussia [Hetalia] x Fem!reader Warning: This story will contain xplicit yandere themes, proceed with caution [includes non consensual acts, toxic relationship, physical violence & the like] Author's notes: I honestly took some inspiration from @shini--chan 's works. Her every piece is marvellous, especially Gilbert's character. She has made me mad and intrigued over that man, I say. Also, remember that lot has been going around the world lately, and try to educate yourself and contribute as much as you can.

Gilbert would be absolutely thrilled and intrigued if his darling already knew German—it would spare him the frustration of teaching her everything from scratch. He would be amused and think the way she spoke. Her pronunciation or tone was absolutely adorable.

But of course, being who he is, that wouldn’t necessarily stop him from challenging her, testing the level of her knowledge and fluency. He’d be curious to know what her taste would be in German literature, music, or cinema. Would she favour Goethe’s romanticism, or perhaps the darker allure of Kafka’s surrealism? Would she hum along to Beethoven or lose herself in the melancholic strains of Schubert?

He would likely discover these preferences by observing (read: stalking) her, a brow arched up elegantly as he leaned back on the walls of the library. There, he would watch her conversing with others academically, seeming more like a statue of a scholar or a professor with his disguise of black-rimmed glasses and dark eyes, watching the way her lips curved around sweetly spoken words.

However, being a perfectionist, he could quickly identify any gaps in her knowledge—a slip of grammar, a wrong word here and there, or even a misstep in interpretation. Perhaps she’d confuse a complex construction for a simpler one or misuse an idiomatic expression.

Noting down the mistakes with a stern frown and a disappointed click of his tongue, Gilbert would sigh, unable to tolerate even the smallest errors. He’d push her relentlessly, unwilling to accept anything less than perfection. Papers, after papers, books after books, would pile up around her as he corrected her trembling attempts, his calligraphic writing starkly perfect beside her shaky efforts.

For someone who appeared so rugged, he was surprisingly methodical, almost reverent, when it came to written words, as evidenced by the piles of his ancient diaries filled with neat, precise entries.

It was definitely a cruel mixture of his ego and intense love toward her that drove him to hone her fluency to a level of perfection he alone could crave. Writing, reading, speaking, and even singing—he demanded mastery in every form of expression, shaping her abilities into something he could both admire and control.

But he wouldn’t stop at just German. This rigorous approach extended to other languages in which he excelled, such as French, Italian, and even Russian (though his dislike for a certain Russian man might make things a bit more complicated).

Each session would become a gruelling trial that demanded discipline, focus, and sheer willpower. He’d test her French with its elegant nuances, pushing her to appreciate the subtleties of verb conjugations and melodic flow. Italian, with its passionate rhythm, would become another challenge, the sharp sounds of “c” and “g” perfectly flowing from her lips, just as he demanded. And then, of course, there was Russian—harsh, guttural, and complex—he would revel in hearing her stumble over its sharp consonants, unable to help himself as he smirked with a mix of ego and possessiveness.

Whether it was the elegance of French, the flow of Italian, or the intensity of Russian, Gilbert would make sure she mastered every word, every subtle difference in accent, every cultural nuance, until she spoke each language with an expertise that reflected his possessive influence.

Gilbert would also push her to master ancient languages like Latin and Greek. His admiration for the roots of Western civilization would bleed into his obsessive teaching, as he demanded perfect fluency in these classical tongues.

He’d make her translate passages from Cicero or Horace, test her knowledge of Homer’s epics, and measure her understanding of Plato’s philosophy. Every misstep in conjugation or syntax would be met with sharp reprimands. Yet, at the same time, he would find immense satisfaction in hearing her articulate the beauty of ancient prose, especially when she finally grasped the elegance of Latin’s rhythm or the precision of Greek’s structure.

It would be a sight to watch the man who seemed so restless—always planning, calculating, and never stopping—suddenly appear like a scholar carved from marble. His focus was unwavering, his attention to detail sharp as a blade, whether it was through his quiet admiration or relentless demands, Gilbert made it clear that he wouldn’t stop until she was flawless—not just in language but as a reflection of his obsession with her.

The words on the paper danced as your eyes blurred, hesitant gasps escaping your quivering lips. Each tap of the thick ruler against the desk matched the frantic rhythm of your racing heartbeat. A deep sigh reached your ears, making you tense as a tear dropped, blotting the writing beneath it.

“Wrong. Do it again,” he said, his voice steady but firm, just above a whisper. You could feel the heat of his breath against your ear as he leaned in closer, his words curling into your senses like a soft yet dangerous caress. His forearms, toned and defined, flexed with each controlled motion as he tapped the ruler once more against the wood.

The veins on his arms stood out, a clear testament to the power that lay beneath his skin. His shirt, rolled up to his elbows, emphasized the muscular tone of his arms, the fabric taut as he moved with practiced precision.

“Your knuckles must be throbbing, don’t you think so?” His voice was low, almost velvety, though the slight edge in it made your skin prickle with a sense of haunting despair.

Of course, German would always be Gilbert's top priority. Whether it was the ancient words from his old Teutonic Knight days, the forgotten Prussian of his youth, or the more modern German that had evolved, he would be relentless in teaching you.

He would smirk, watching your hesitant expression, those furrowed brows and strands of hair sticking to your flushed face as you tried to keep up with his rapid-fire lessons. Every time you stumbled, he’d feel a rush of satisfaction, knowing he was pushing you—testing your limits.

And just as you began to feel like you might grasp it, he would pull you further, introducing an even more archaic form of the language. You'd be faced with Prussian words, forgotten phrases from the past, or the formal German of his time as a powerful state, and he'd watch as you struggled to keep up.

But Gilbert never took pity. To him, this wasn’t just about learning words—it was about learning what they meant, what they represented, about becoming part of a deeper history that only he understood intimately.

Naturally, he expected you to speak German at all times when addressing him. After all, he was Prussia—the proud embodiment of his nation's strength and culture, and to him, the language was not merely a means of communication, but a symbol of power, authority, and legacy. He found the way you spoke it utterly captivating—the way your lips shaped the words, how your expression would soften or harden depending on the tone.

Every mistake, every mispronunciation, only seemed to drive him further. He would often reply to you in German despite your slipping into another language— he would become cold, refusing to acknowledge you fully. His childish spite would rise, and he'd deliberately turn his back, offering you nothing but a sharp glance.

"Are you even listening to me?" you snapped, frustration mounting as you tugged at your hair, your words coming out in a burst. The tension in your chest was unbearable, and yet, Gilbert didn’t even flinch. He leaned back in his plush leather chair, the soft creak of the leather under his weight barely audible. The corners of his lips twitched upwards, curling into a satisfied smirk. His eyes, gleaming with amusement, never left you as he observed your growing frustration, watching you unravel with quiet delight. He loved seeing you like this—on the edge, teetering between control and chaos, and utterly at his mercy.

He didn’t respond immediately, letting the silence stretch between you. It was as if your words were meaningless to him. He had no intention of addressing your frustration, no intention of actually listening to what you were saying. He was too busy savoring the sight of you. The sharp tone in his voice, when he finally spoke, was smooth, effortless—teasing, almost mocking, a rhythm he knew all too well. Of an ancient German dialect that almost made his words hard to understand.

"Careful with the bread," he murmured, his voice low and cutting through the silence like a blade. "Don’t make it too tough."

You froze for a moment, the absurdity of his words washing over you. He wasn’t listening. Not to you. Not to the frustration in your voice, not to the growing anger burning in your chest. His gaze never wavered, still fixed on you with that predatory calm, like a cat watching its prey squirm. And all the while, you could feel the weight of his attention, suffocating and demanding, making your blood boil even hotter.

Your hands, already trembling from the intensity of the situation, clenched into fists. You turned away quickly, trying to regain some semblance of control, but it was too late. Your mind raced, and you felt the overwhelming need to take out your frustration on something—anything. The dough in front of you.

You slammed your hands into it, pressing harder than necessary, your fingers digging into the soft dough with surprising force. It was as though you could feel his presence behind you, even though he said nothing more, watching you knead the dough with a strange, mocking stillness in the air. You wished it was his neck beneath your hands instead, the pressure of your palms imagining the crushing sensation of him being the one to break under the weight. The thought alone made you grit your teeth.

Gilbert’s smirk never faltered, his eyes still on you, studying every move you made. He had already won, and you both knew it. You were powerless against his presence, against his control. His lessons weren’t games. They were training. And you were exactly where he wanted you.

Though he often found amusement in the banter between you, even encouraging it at times, Gilbert wouldn’t take kindly to any attempts to push things beyond their limits. Swear words or throwing personalized insults his way would undoubtedly irritate him. He thrived on the playful back-and-forth, enjoying the challenge of testing boundaries, seeing just how far he could push you before you snapped.

But as much as he revelled in this dynamic, there were unspoken rules that, if broken, would have severe consequences. Gilbert was not one to tolerate disrespect, not even in jest. His pride, especially when it came to how others viewed his authority, was something you learned to tread lightly around.

He had a way of making you feel small when you crossed that invisible line. It wasn’t outright aggression, no—it was more subtle, calculated. His silence, his smirk, the way he’d cock his head and stare at you with those piercing eyes—each glance felt like a silent reprimand. His lessons weren’t games. This was training. And training wasn’t just about learning skills or techniques—it was about understanding power dynamics, submission, and control. For Gilbert, discipline was an art. You had to earn his approval, prove you were worthy of the lessons he would give. Disrupting that delicate balance, however, meant harsh consequences.

The playful back-and-forth, while it could go on for hours, was never just for fun. He was sharpening you, moulding you into something he could admire, something that would never question his authority again. When you got too comfortable, too confident, Gilbert would make sure to remind you that this was his world and you were merely a participant in it. A slip of the tongue, a crass word, a sharp insult—that was all it took for him to remind you who was truly in charge.

And when you crossed that line? He’d make sure you knew it wasn’t something to be taken lightly. Gilbert would drop his usual teasing tone and replace it with something colder, something darker. He didn’t need to shout. He didn’t need to raise his voice. The shift in his demeanor alone was enough to make the air feel thick with tension. You’d find yourself walking the thin line between fear and desire, unsure of where one ended and the other began, but knowing that if you made the wrong move, there would be consequences.

The toothbrush and the mouthful of toothpaste threatened to choke you, your mouth wide open as a strong grip held your head in place by the hair. Gilbert probed the depths of your mouth with firm, deliberate strokes, bringing you to the brink of nausea. Foamy spit dripped from your lips, guttural moans of pain echoing through the washroom as tears framed your face. Your attempts to reason with Gilbert fell on deaf ears. All it took was one bad day for him (you couldn’t really tell with the man), and your profanity-laced outburst had earned you this punishment. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he slightly relaxed his grip on your hair, allowing you to violently spit out the bitter toothpaste that had been building up in your mouth. You instinctively reached for the tap, desperate to rinse the foul taste away, but were met with a firm hand that stopped you short. “No water for that filthy mouth of yours,” Gilbert sneered, his eyes glinting with malice. “Next time, I won’t hesitate to feed you a bar of soap and using the toilet brush.” You almost threw up.

While he didn’t outright disdain other languages, Gilbert was quick to show his disapproval if you focused on them too much. A subtle sneer or dismissive remark would betray his jealousy. In his eyes, your enthusiasm or preference for another tongue was a challenge to his authority, a dilution of the bond he sought to forge.

He wanted German to be your priority because it was his, and he needed to hear it from your lips as proof of your connection. It wasn’t just about teaching—it was about domination, ensuring that his influence extended into every word you spoke and every thought you had. And, of course, his pride demanded it. After all, why would you need anything else when you had him?

Nonetheless, he adored your voice, no matter what language you spoke. Whether stumbling over unfamiliar words or weaving through proses, there was a softness in the way you sounded that captivated him. It wasn’t something he’d admit easily, but your voice was his favourite melody, one he could listen to for hours without growing tired.

Of course, German is sacred to him—a reflection of his very being. It wasn’t just a language; it was his legacy, his culture, and the soul of the people he had once represented. The language of warriors and poets, of triumph and despair, it was a thread connecting him to his past. He expected you to embrace it—not out of mere interest, but as a testament to your devotion to him. And he always cherished it hearing from you.

You sat beside Gilbert, stiff and uneasy, as he delved into a thick book titled 'Geodesics in Curved Spacetime'. The topic was so far beyond your comprehension that you couldn’t help but think, What the fuck even is this?

It was one of those days when he insisted you sit close, your hands folded on his thigh, while one of his palms gripped it firmly, the other flipping through the velvet pages of the Russian text. His hold on you was both grounding and possessive, the weight of it reminding you that there was no escape from his whims.

The subject seemed to irritate him more than intrigue him; his brows furrowed, and the occasional sharp exhale signaled his growing frustration. He’d call you over at times like this, either to steady his nerves or to force you into reading it aloud, despite your stumbling attempts.

Sometimes, he would pause to explain a concept in German, his voice steady and commanding, expecting you to follow his train of thought no matter how lost you felt. On other occasions, his enthusiasm would bubble over, and he would yip and yap, his words spilling in rapid, fervent analysis that left your head spinning. You could only nod along, hoping he didn’t notice your bewilderment.

Most often, though, his focus shifted to something more intimate. He would pass you a well-loved novel—its pages slightly worn, its binding soft to the touch—and order you to read aloud. His fingers would trail lazily along your arm as he leaned back in his chair, eyes closed, the tension leaving his features with every word that left your lips. In those moments, you felt like an extension of him, your voice the tool that brought his favorite stories to life. His grip on you would loosen, his breaths growing deeper and steadier.

Those were his calmest days, and your beautiful voice, the rhythm to his immortal heartbeat, seemed to be the only thing capable of soothing his restless spirit.

Refusal—or any form of misbehavior—when he asks you to speak his language would never be tolerated. Utter refusal would be met with the coldest of glares, a silent warning that would send a shiver down your spine. Testing him with silent treatment or petty acts of defiance would only irritate him more.

His expectations are simple but non-negotiable: learn the proper German etiquette. Speak clearly, directly, and without hesitation. Your words must be precise—no unnecessary embellishments or mindless chatter. He values sincerity, respect, and most of all, discipline.

When spoken to, you are expected to answer promptly, politely, and with the right tone. You must use Bitte (please) and Danke (thank you) when appropriate— if you don’t, he’ll remind you, and the lesson will be harder than you anticipate. There is no room for laziness in his world, especially when it comes to how you communicate.

Gilbert tapped his fingers on his forearms as he stared at you from across the table, his piercing gaze unwavering. You sat with an unsightly scowl, arms crossed tightly, eyes fixed on the food in front of you. The tension in the air was thick—your earlier attempt to escape had been swiftly thwarted by his firm grip on your arm.

"And what do we say?" he asked, his voice smooth but laced with impatience.

You shot him a defiant glare, the sting of your pride burning brighter than your hunger. Your teeth gound together as you glared at the plate of Sauerbraten, the tender beef marinated in rich spices paired with the tang of red cabbage and potato dumplings. The smell alone made your stomach growl, but you weren’t going to give him the satisfaction.

"D..." You grit your teeth, barely able to utter the word. His unblinking stare burned into you as if daring you to try him. "Danke."

"Ah ah," Gilbert bent forward, the gleam of satisfaction in his eyes. "Full sentence."

You clenched your fists, the taste of defeat sour in your mouth. There was no escaping him now. "Danke... für das Essen."

"Good girl." Gilbert’s voice was soft, but the approval in it was unmistakable. He straightened in his chair, his lips curling into a smirk.

"Jetzt können wir essen!"

Of course, being the rather egoistical individual he is, Gilbert would revel in hearing you address him with titles in German. Whether it was Herr or Mein König, the words rolled off your tongue like honey, fueling his insatiable desire for your complete submission. He would demand such titles not merely out of tradition but as a way to solidify his dominance over you-reminding you that he was the one in control, always.

And if you hesitated or refused, you'd soon find yourself either kneeling at his feet or bent over his knees, forced to beg in the very language he adored.

The sight of you, voice trembling and face flushed, was intoxicating to him. He couldn't help but feel a massive thrill corroding his bones as your tone wavered with such an adorable desperation, the words escaping your pretty lips like a melody crafted just for him. Gilbert always loved the way you sounded, gasps, grunts or so, your voice like a finely tuned instrument only he could master.

You were his little songbird, and sometimes he liked to take that metaphor literally. He wouldn't mind having you sing as he played his flute, guiding you with gentle nods or sharp corrections if you didn't get it quite right. On calmer evenings, he'd rest his head on your lap, your soft hands threading through his silver hair as you hummed or sang him a lullaby. Those moments of quiet surrender were his personal heaven.

Every word you spoke in German was a delicacy he devoured straight from your lips. He also expected your words to reflect affection and politeness. Loving phrases, respectful tones, and perhaps even a few nicknames of your own design.

Nothing overly cheesy, of course, but Gilbert wouldn't hide his cheeky grin if you hyly called him something intimate. A soft Liebling (darling) murmured in the warmth of your shared bed would earn you a teasing remark right before he captured your lips in a sealing kiss.

In the bedroom, his expectations only deepened. He wanted to hear you whisper his name like a promise, gasping out mein Schatz as he thoroughly claimed you. Every word, every sound you made was proof of his hold over you, a mark of the loyalty he craved so desperately.

And in those moments, he'd remind you just how much he loved your voice - the voices that only he could truly bring out of you, the ones he wants to hear from you, the one thing that could ever bring peace to the storm within him.

Your dress spread around you like the petals of a flower, delicate yet trapping, as gilbert’s hands—rough and unyielding—skimmed over the bare skin of your legs. you shivered beneath his touch, every nerve on fire as you tried to suppress the sob rising in your throat.

“Was ist los, Maus?” (what's the matter, mouse?), his voice coiled around you like smoke, soft yet suffocating. his body leaned in, the weight of his presence making it impossible to move, let alone think. “Hast du etwa vergessen, wie man schön bittet?” (have you perhaps forgotten to ask nicely?).

your mind swirled, thoughts slipping through your fingers like sand. had he done something? the strange heaviness in your limbs, the faint haze clouding your senses—was this another one of his games?

“B-bitte,” you rasped, voice trembling as you fought to form the word, “bitte, G-Gilbert, ich—”

his grip on your hips tightened abruptly, the sharp press of his fingers stealing the rest of your sentence. his crimson eyes bore into yours, gleaming with a twisted mix of hunger and amusement.

“Das ist besser,” (That is better) he murmured, his lips curling into a cruel smile. “Nicht perfekt, aber es wird reichen.” (Not perfect, but it will do)

tears pricked at your eyes, your chest heaving as you forced out another plea, desperate to appease him. “gilbert… bitte… verzeih mir,” you choked out, your voice breaking as his thumb brushed against the curve of your waist, deceptively gentle.

“ah, Liebling,” he said, his tone laced with dark satisfaction. “Das ist mein gutes Mädchen.”

he pulled you closer then, his control as unrelenting as the heat radiating from him, leaving no room for escape. you were his—mind, body, and voice—and he made sure you understood it.

With every searing touch and word.

[nordickies]

Obsessed with thoughts about Prussia mentoring Finland during WW1, the last years of Finland seeking Independence from the Russian empire (-> Jäger Movement)

Gilbert refuses to believe this guy will ever become anything, he's just wasting his time teaching this runt. But Finny proves him wrong due to his borderline comical determination, and in the end, he softens Gil's heart of stone the tiniest bit to a point he can be proud. And it doesn't help that Finland vocally admires Gil and his achievements, genuinely thinking he's the best fighter there has ever been (which is probably how he got Gil to mentor him in the first place, let's be real)

[504py]

Yandere Prussia Relationship Headcanons

Gender neutral, no use of Y/N, NSFW, murder, kidnapping mention, stalking, long post ahead!

we're SO BACK JOE. i apologize in advance if i write him strangely 😭😭🙏 but here it is! come get y'all juice!! slowly coming back to hetalia, so my inbox is once again open!!! hope y'all like it!

┊͙✧˖*°࿐

How the relationship started...

Gilbert is a very competitive man, and he can't help but be attracted by challenges, even if those challenges are ones that he himself proposes and the other party is completely unaware. This is what has unfortunately happened between you two, and it all started when you rejected his advances towards you.

I apologize for saying this, but I feel that Gilbert is a bit of a "nice guy". He saw you initially as just some pretty person he could fool around and flirt with, but you, obviously, saw right through his act, and said something that stuck with him.

"Are you normally this pathetic?"

He's taken aback, and his red irises shake a little.

Of course, he's used to insults being flung his way, what with how he acts, but a shot to how cool he perceives himself to be would stick.

His white brows crease his previously smirking face, before snapping back.

"Well fuck you too!"

Gilbert wouldn't have any contact with you following this interaction for a long while, and while he tries to forget you and erase you from his memory, you and your words have been laser-burnt into the creases of his brain. You and your damned smile when you look at anyone other than him, the softer tone your voice takes when you talk to other people, versus how your voice seems to have been drained of all enthusiasm and feels like it's a knife dripping with venom when Gilbert talks to you. Why didn't he deserve that nice treatment, too? Was he not even deserving of a small smile from you? He wants you to like him, too. He wants to be the person you like the most; to be the best.

Which resulted in him showing up at your door one evening with flowers and your favorite takeout.

Why does he know your address and why does he know your favorite food and flowers, you ask? Don't worry about it (He was obsessively stalking your social media during the month he was gone).

Gilbert apologizes to you, he sounds sincere, and like the oh-so kind person you are, or maybe you just wanted the food and flowers, you let him into your home.

Expectations...

Gilbert is a very insecure man. His only expectation is for you to look at only him and to love him only. Perhaps he wants you to love him the same way he loves you, obsessively, but he does like the challenge.

He feels like, maybe, if he can fully prove himself to you one day and have your validation, only then can he truly see himself as worthy, as the best for you.

He would have a lot of tunnel vision when it comes to you. To Gilbert, the rest of the world doesn't matter, because you are his whole world. He does tend to look pretty stupid because of it sometimes, but he couldn't care less.

You want him to cook and clean around the house? He'll do it.

You want him to change up his style even if he doesn't really like it? Of course he will!

You want him to carry all the bags while you're out shopping? In a heartbeat. Plus, he gets to show off his strength too. He'd carry you too if you allowed it.

Even if he tries his best not to come off as cocky, he really does like showing off. Being with you has sort of domesticated him, so he'd be a lot more shy about making a show of himself.

I think he'd act like this irregardless on if you accepted him as your boyfriend or not, if anything, I think he'd be even more of a doormat if you refuse to accept him.

He'd get crazier and crazier with his attempts to prove himself to you, such as buying extravagant gifts, doing anything and everything under the sun and moon for you, hell, he'd even legally change his name if you didn't like it.

If you still don't accept him despite everything he's done, I think he'd snap and just take you. He'll keep you with him so you won't run away and he can have as many attempts as it takes to prove himself to you.

But I imagine you'd cave from the guilt and persistence, and eventually accept him. At which, he'd literally scream from relief and happiness and swing you around, before realizing how rough he's being with you and hurriedly putting you back down and apologizing.

Yet he still has that wide toothy grin the whole time, and he keeps petting your hair and holding your face in his hands adoringly. It feels that, from that moment on, there would never be a moment where he'd be unhappy ever again, and he'd never allow you to be unhappy either as long as he's around.

It is genuinely very hard to make this Gilbert upset, because there are very few things that do...

Punishments...

Gilbert really hates it when you express any sort of affection towards anyone or anything other than him.

Yes, anything. He gets jealous if you show too much affection over his dogs or fawn over them too much. I'm seriously saying this, I think he'd later show up with a collar around his neck, crawling on the ground and rubbing his head against your thigh like a mutt. This could either come off as comedic or attractive depending on you, but either is a win in Gilbert's book, since at least he's got your attention now.

If you have any personal toys of your own, he'd get kinda emotional and ask you to throw them away, then ask what they do that he can't. In some time (and by that I mean later that night, maybe even right away), he'd prove that he can provide you with so much more pleasure and relief than those toys ever could.

Probably even to a fault, he'd keep overstimulating you and forcing orgasms till he was satisfied, till he believed that it was drilled into your brain that only he could do these sorts of things to you. And, also, that if you make him jealous like this again, it'll be another one of these long, torturous, sweaty nights...

I guess these aren't really punishments to a lot of people, because in my book only one thing could make him so genuinely upset that he'd be anything other than doting towards you, and that would be flirting with someone else. He'd try to deny it, but then he'd be inconsolable and crying for weeks, having nights where he'd be begging you to say that it never happened, or that the other person meant nothing to you.

"They r-really mean nothing to you? You mean it, babe?"

Then an idea pops into Gilbert's head, one that makes his heart rate pick up and his pupils dilate.

He kisses you, says that he loves you, says goodnight, then he'd be eerily... calm for the next few days. Usually he'd be more skittish and closed-off following whatever you did, but now he's acting like nothing ever happened.

Until one day, he shows up with that other person, bound and gagged, and a gun.

"G-Gil, what is thi-"

"They mean nothing to you, right?"

"Y-Yes, but-"

Then the gun fires, and it happens so quickly that you can barely process it.

This is only a hypothetical scenario, if you were ever to do something like that. It'd be really easy for Gilbert to slip into a psychosis and believe he was doing the right thing by murdering someone.

If anything, he sees it as another means of proving himself.

"There's no one else who would kill for you like I could."

All in all, he isn't easy to anger, but unfortunately I can't say the same thing about him and murder...

Rewards...

Luckily, as long as you're fully loyal to him, all you'd have is a boyfriend who is doting to a total fault.

As long as you've got a good tolerance for cringe, being with Gilbert should be relatively stress-free.

Gilbert's love languages are words of affirmation and physical touch. You could imagine what the two combined would be... Yeah, he's got a huge praise kink.

But as for ways he shows his love towards you, it's definitely acts of service and gift giving. He lilkes gloating a lot, and that's especially true when it comes to the two of you.

He enjoys showing you off. He likes buying gaudy things for you and himself– a huge fan of matching outfits– and taking you out on flashy dates. If you're comfortable with being posted on his social media, best believe he'd be spamming his with you ALL the time. Even if you're not being physically being shown, he'd write about you in his tweets, captions, and stories constantly.

"CHECK OUT THIS EPIC BAG I GOT FOR MY BELOVED!!!!!!!!"

And around twenty-eight people respond like "Didn't you just get them one the other day??"

If you're one to hop between interests and hobbies a lot, or just have any hyperfixations in general, best believe Gilbert will be fueling them LOL.

Gilbert can be really overbearing with his affections, but to him it's just because you deserve it so much. Only the best for the best, right?

He can't help it either, the most rewarding thing he's ever felt is that feeling he gets after he gives you a gift or does something for you. You get this adorable look on your face, smiling at him like he was the stars in the sky and singing out the sweetest compliments and thanks. It's all so worth it.

Normally I'd delve into what Gilbert would love to receive from his partner in return, but in all seriousness, I really do think all he wants is praise and your sole affection.

Like Alfred in my last headcanon post, Gilbert is really noisy, but I think he'd willingly make an effort to change that for you. Not because you asked for it or anything, but just cause, this way, he can appreciate all the tiny little things about you even more.

He realized this, when, one day, he noticed you frown a little before you smile. He wonders why he's never noticed this, and he realizes it's because he closes his eyes right when he starts to laugh. He starts to wonder what other little details about you he's missing out on, so he watches you more carefully in that effort.

Inadvertently, this has made him more calm and quiet since he's so concentrated on you. He likes it, though.

I think, what punctuates Gilbert's character here, is his willingness to change and bend for love's sake.

He does say he loves you very often, to the point of it being annoying sometimes, but he sincerely does mean it. He doesn't say it as just fluff.

However, you'll feel it most with the way he looks at you.

"You have a mole on your back. Did you know that, babe?"

┊͙✧˖*°࿐

(art used is mine, so please do show it some love on my blog as well! thinking of starting a taglist?)

[merbear25]

Hi, can you make Russia, Germany and Prussia with a reader who's also a total simp for them? (Like in previous ask✨️)

Hello, hello! So much love for the Hetalia men, I love it! Thank you for sending in your request. I hope you like what I've written for you 💜💜

pt 1, pt 2

CW: gn!reader, fluff, headcanons

Meeting a simp reader (Russia, Germany, Prussia)

Russia

At first, he was a bit shocked, then that shifted into doubt before he eventually realized you were genuinely head over heels for him.

The more time you spent around each other, the more comfortable he became, eventually looking around for you when you weren’t by his side.

He’d adore cuddling with you, especially on cold nights when the winter wind was howling loudly. Whenever you drifted off to sleep in his arms, he melted and allowed himself to fall asleep soon after. Waking up to you still wrapped up in his embrace gave him the confirmation that you were there because you wanted to be.

He’d want to strengthen your bond by exploring your common interests. I’d even go as far to say he’d get out of his comfort zone: giving things a try that he may not have prior to meeting you. A deep and meaningful connection was all that he’d really want at the end of the day and if you were willing to give that to him, he’d never complain.

Germany

He’d be fairly hesitant to accept your praise and affection. He was far from the romantic or touchy-feely type and you always wanting to be around him was making him…flustered. 

Despite that, you appeared to be hard-working, dedicated to your ambitions, and an overall respectable person, eventually earning his good graces.

With you seeming more than one dimensional to him now, someone he felt like he might enjoy having around, he’d invite you to training sessions and maybe small outings with the others if he thought you’d like it. Affection would undoubtedly start out small, mostly through acts of service and sometimes words of affirmation.

The progression in your relationship would be slow yet gradual, leaving room for you to both explore who the other truly was. Quality time would increase the more comfortable he became around you, wanting to share peaceful moments with you or enjoying a nice walk in the park. Looking at you, he’d have a subtle smile pertaining to his gratitude for you.

Prussia

Everyone knew just how highly he thought of himself, so when you came into his life fawning over him, he couldn’t help but agree with you. He was the amazing Prussia afterall.

When your praise and adoration didn’t wear off the more time you spent with him and you expressed genuine interest in him, he started to wonder what your deal was—what you were all about.

You piqued his interest and now he wanted to know more about you. Inviting you out for drinks would be the easiest option for him. Getting more one-on-one time with you made everything easier for the two of you to bond properly. He came to really like you and suddenly your praise made him feel a bit differently—more affectionate.

Once you two got past the first hump with getting to know each other, he’d match your eagerness to see each other. He'd want to be around you all the time. Despite the chaotic energy he brought, he enjoyed the softer moments too. Whenever he got you smiling and laughing were times that he cherished, never wanting that feeling to fade.

[yawujin]

bwaaaah hetalia allies with s/o who's a virgin /// or, nsfw for their first time OUUUGGH!! also, what's ur limit for how many characters u write? I'd ask for both allies n axis but don't wanna bombard that many on u !! ^^

don't worry about that, i got youu ദ്ദി(ᵔᗜᵔ) enjoy!! 🤍

hetalia allies & axis | first time 💭 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔

type | nsfw , smut , they/them pronouns used , established relationship , light hearted , first time trope

author's note* part two is here 🤍

allies ♥︎

america/alfred f. jones

he's really excited and is prone to getting carried away.

it will take direct communication from his s/o to get him to calm down and take things slow. he can respect that, so he does.

he's making sure to be careful in everything he does, tracking his pace so he goes slow enough to not overwhelm them but fast enough to not bore them

he really really wants their approval...so he's doing the best he can (he wants that sweet praise after all is said and done)

england/arthur kirkland

he's like really anxious so if they're able to help him through that, that would be really great

he just has this fear that he'll hurt them so he is really gentle, it's an expectation that he's aware of so he just automatically does it

he's very encouraging and accepting towards mostly anything his s/o does during sex. he's the type to urge them to let it all out if they want to moan but are holding back. he also really wants them to grab onto anything of his, really. but only if they want to

he'll want to hurry and get them cleaned up as soon as they both finish, so they don't have to feel uncomfortable...especially after their first time

france/francis bonnefoy

he makes it very sweet, very loving, and makes sure that they feel comfortable before they even begin.

he'll give them words of affirmation, and letting them know they're free to back out at anytime. "if you want a break, just say the word and we'll have a break." france kisses their cheek

he's very vocal, complimenting them on their expressions, sounds and on their figure.

afterwards, he'll want to lie down and hold them. he'll tell them just how much he appreciates them and say what his favorite parts were. he'll ask them what theirs were, too.

canada/matthieu williams

he's shy but not anxious. being gentle is in his dna, so it comes to him automatically

"i never want you to feel uncomfortable..." he says. his voice is soft and sweet.

he's the type to guide them through it, putting his hand on theirs and placing it somewhere on his body. it's especially helpful if they're the type to not know where to touch.

i feel like he'd want to kiss them a lot, but he understands if they don't want to or get overwhelmed.

russia/ivan braginsky

first of all, he puts in effort to not look scary because he knows he can be intimidating

and since sex can be intimidating to some, he really tries to get them to have fun with it

he tries to do the same, and not take himself too seriously

he saves the sweet talk for after they both finish. for now, he wants to savor the moment with them and moan into their ear, watching how they react to all of it, all of him. he likes the fact that it's brand new to them, but he'll like it even more if he can please them...so he focuses on that.

china/yao wang

he's very well versed in helping people feel relaxed, especially during a moment that can be so overwhelming for some.

of course , it helps that he's experienced, too. that way he can reassure them and promise that he's going to make his s/o feel great

he's already prepared the essentials (i'll leave it up to the readers to guess what those are winkk)

he knows already that he's going to need to take things easy at first. it's really fortunate that he's good at tracking his pacing, and reading expressions. he keeps asking them if they feel alright, and if it's okay for him to continue. if they consent, he'll give them a quick kiss on the forehead before going back to what he was doing.

axis ♥︎

north italy/feliciano vargas

he's all smiles. he's just happy that he gets to be their first.

he's excited!! but he respects them completely, so he asks what exactly they want to happen.

italy is here to fufill their wishes. and that he does.

he can't help but hold them tightly in the heat of the moment, going in for a quick collection of kisses before pulling away for some air. he's getting desperate but he asks for permission before doing anything else.

germany/ludwig beilschmidt

he's nervous ngl but he knows what to do so he approaches this *situation* practically

he prolongs the foreplay just so he can give them a taste of what's to come also so he can get an idea of what they might like or dislike

he overthinks a lot of what people say and what their body language is so he takes that into account before they begin

he's the one to ask: "can i do this?" "is this okay with you?" before going any further. if they didn't know any better they'd think it's his first time with the hesistant way he goes about this (it's kind of sweet, since he's usually so direct)

japan/kiku honda

he's very sweet towards them, now more than ever

he says it's okay if they're nervous, but he really wants to know how they want to go about this

he urges them to talk about exactly what they want, so he can give it to them just as they prefer

he delivers; making them feel cared for from the very moment they start making out to the final moments where he's looking at them, even if they're too shy to maintain eye contact

prussia/gilbert beilschmidt

similar to his brother germany, prussia is direct and he uses this as a guide for them

he gently asks them if they can do a certain thing, letting them ease into it and letting them take the lead without so much pressure. he reminds them they can say no if he unknowingly asks too much of them

he does this because he'd rather not risk coming on too strong (he doesn't want to let his eccentricity get the better of him and overwhelm or scare his s/o ☹️)

he's happy with whatever they want to do and gives them a little bit of praise to encourage them further

south italy/lovino vargas

he tones down his usual blunt and outspoken demeanor just for them, reminding them that it's okay not to take themselves so seriously

he uses touch as a way to soothe their nerves, constantly holding any, and every part of them in one way or another

he goes ahead with touching them in the typical ways most people like, but tells them that they should let him know if they don't like something right away

as he gets accquainted with everything they do like though, he'll tell his s/o how amazing they feel, on almost every part of their body.

[hetalian-veteran]

Hetalia Headcanon #17

Prussia is one of those people who 100% has a wooden sign in his house all decked out with burlap and lace like it was made by a middle-aged 2010's mom with a Pinterest addiction. Which doesn't initially sound like him, but the sign says, "It's not a crack house. It's a crack home." In white, elegant cursive letters.

[forsoobado137]

It must be embarrassing for nations when humans find their old stuff. Imagine being a teenaged nation filled with hormones and keeping some kind of journal. After a couple of centuries being forgotten, it's suddenly in the national museum for all the world to see. I'm sure Prussia has some entries in his diaries that he would rather keep private.

I bet England loves showing off old 18th century paintings of himself with America and Canada. He thinks fondly of the memories, but they're both like "Oh my god, England! stop showing everyone our baby pictures!"

*Elegant oil painting of France* "Oh la la, that neck ruff is so tacky! What was I thinking? Why is this portrait in the Louvre?!"

[royaltea000]

Guy who never looks the same when I draw him

[foolilazuli]

I’ve said Germany would be scared of his brother dying, but you know what would hurt him even more?

Prussia getting dementia