disclaimer! NOT MIIIIIIINE. :/ Not even Denmark's name, I swear. (You can thank that to my RP buddy.)
a/n: Um... Okay, I haven't written sex--much less het!--in quite a while. Nor have I tried to do something from a) a girl's perspective and b) with bits of cuteness in it. Is this even IC? Oh, Gods. (also. fail title!)
Got this beta'd by my darling RP buddy, but if you find anything, please do say so.


Hungary was a yaoi fangirl. That was one thing she was certain about. Out of all the times she found herself doodling during meetings, or writing in her free time, or even just daydreaming whenever, it was always about yaoi.

Of course, she hadn't always used the term 'yaoi'. Back during and after the Renaissance, before she even heard about Japan, she just thought of herself as being oddly jealous—maybe even yearning—of Austria's contact with other nations, France in particular. Of course, she merely wrote that off as her still having lingering feelings for him, since their marriage had ended so badly and abruptly. Then, when she saw how Prussia and Germany treated each other, she slowly changed her mind and turned her attention that way. Before she knew it, any time any of her fellow nations even acted slightly interested in the same gender, she found herself turned on and attuned to what they were saying and doing to each other. England and America, Finland and Sweden, Russia and his Baltic nations. How on earth had she not realized before? How on earth would she be able to ignore it now? She was addicted.

And then she had a run-in with Japan. Purely by chance—she was going to speak with China, to see if negotiations for trade were possible—and she had accidentally bumped into him, causing him to spill all of what he was holding. How could she have known that he was, in fact, carrying a load of doujinshis? Yaoi doujinshis?

Well. The first cover caught her attention, with two lanky men holding each other tightly. She couldn't read the foreign characters written so carefully and beautifully on the cover, but she just knew that whatever that book was, it was right for her.

So, without anyone noticing or caring, she struck up a friendship with Japan, and her official yaoi addiction started.

However, how could she stay true to those feelings, she wondered. She was trying—oh, was she trying—to only approve of male-male relationships. Which is why she tried to turn homosexual herself, so that she could have someone and not have to worry about breaking up a yaoi relationship. Needless to say, it didn't work, and she could only stay as a bisexual nation, but she was still trying so hard, she really didn't want the birds and the bees to mix.

And then she had to fucking run into Denmark again.


Denmark, in Hungary's memory, was a happy jerk. She couldn't exactly remember any of the scary stories she had been told about how he was the ruler of all Vikings, maybe because she didn't think she was born yet, but as far back as she could remember of him, he was just a happy, stupid jerk who laughed and laughed at everything. Partially annoying, but too carefree and light-hearted to actually hate.

The first time they met was a simple, international, business-like exchange. And so were the next thousand times or so. No feelings, just paper. Then, she stopped seeing him for a while, as the second World War raged on—they both were much too busy with their own people, governments and fights, to try and deal with another nation's. Then, they saw each other again, and something seemed to either click or break, in both their minds.

Probably Denmark's more, though, seeing as he was the one who took three long strides down the hall, grabbed her by her waist, and pulled her in for a kiss.

Hungary, actually, had a feeling that Denmark had something going on with Norway. After all, whenever people used the terms 'best friend' or 'special' before the word 'relationship', they had to be screwing each other. And Norway was just so cute, how could someone as big and strong as Denmark not want to take him? Hell, Hungary wanted to take him. He was just so adorable and shy and tsundere like that.

But then Denmark had to kiss her like that. She hadn't been kissed like that since Austria left her. How the hell on earth was she going to say no and push him away?

And, damn, was he good at kissing.


Hungary didn't want to date Denmark. She hadn't wanted to, it wasn't in her plans, she'd never even wildly dreamed of it, it just wasn't going to happen in her headcanon. Denmark and Norway could happen. It probably was, even if Denmark denied it. Hungary wasn't going to be with anyone, she had decided a while back, when she and Ukraine had broken up silently, without anyone even noticing they were even together. No girls were right for her, and no guys should have to deal with a woman. Therefore, she just wasn't going to date anyone. She wasn't going to inflict any sort of pain on anyone.

But they were dating, she realized after their third dinner out together. Denmark had just made a causal comment, something simple, referring to her as his 'girlfriend', and she thought, ohh, that's right. When two people share a kiss, usually, that's an acceptance of feelings.

She then went on to obsess over why in hell Denmark would choose her. He answered the question later that night, in the car on the way home, because she was quiet. And a quiet Hungary was either a plotting Hungary or a worried Hungary; Denmark had noticed at least that.

"What's botherin' you, Liz?" he'd asked, glancing her way as he sped through a stoplight. "Too much wine?"

Hungary scowled at the last statement, but otherwise stayed silent, her mind too frazzled to answer properly.

He was noiseless for about eight more seconds before he bothered her again. "Okay, I know something's buggin' you. Just tell me what," He thought over it. "I won't be able to help you, anyway."

Hungary, never really having ever been good at holding in her thoughts, emotions, and urges, just went ahead and blurted out like what she thought was a huge idiot, "Why do you like me?"

Denmark wasn't used to having to explain himself, nor was he completely used to the whimsical thoughts, emotions or urges of a woman, so this threw him off. He even stopped at a stop sign, that's how confused he was. He stared at his knuckles on the steering wheel, looking for an answer that would insure Hungary's not-hate for him and still make him seem like the awesome dude he was. But he wasn't finding one.

"I mean," she was speaking again. "You don't have to like me. I just wanna—y'know—know. Why. Why did you kiss me? Why are you taking me out to dinner? Why am I your...girlfriend?"

The last question made Denmark nervous, he admits. "Well, y'know," he groaned, still not knowing what to say. God, he always had something to say. Why not now? "I just, uh... I like you, that's all."

She was still sitting, waiting, watching, all patiently.

"After all," he sighed, resting his head on his non-driving hand, pressing the side of his head to the cold glass of the window. "When I, uh, saw you—back then, you remember—I guess I just, y'know… I just thought how amazing you looked and how I wanted to kiss you, that's all." He let out another sigh, much rougher this time. "And, I like you. I didn't expect for you to kiss me back. And I didn't think about how cool and funny you were, either."

She didn't—no, couldn't—wait, wouldn't?—believe this. That kind of plotline only occurred in doujinshis, or fanfictions, or inside her mind, when she didn't know why two countries were together, but didn't mind making up stories as to how. And this was Denmark. The one country everyone seemed to forget, for whatever reason.

She looked down at her lap, and her hands seated there, thinking over his words. The last time someone said they liked her, and she'd believed them… Austria. He was always that one. Ukraine hadn't come close with her three-week long relationship, and neither had any other country Hungary had applied herself on with. Austria was the one with the lasting impression; he was the one who had made the standard, set the bar, thrown the gauntlet. And no one was matching up.

But, Denmark... Denmark...

"D'you... Uh, d'you, um... Like me, too?"

The amount of insecurity in his voice was miniscule, but enough for Hungary to make up her mind, look up and smile, "Yeah. I like you, too."


She especially liked him like this.

Her back was pressed so forcefully against her apartment wall, the weight on her torso making it difficult to struggle, as if she wanted to. Her leg was hitched up on Denmark's hips, his strong, calloused hand holding it there firmly, his other hand playing with her breasts as she moaned and kissed and licked his mouth, holding onto him as tightly as her hands could. He tasted like the wine they'd shared back at the restaurant, but still different, sweet and yet bitter in his own way. She snapped her hips to grind with his with every swirl of the tongue, her heart too fast and erratic to set a beat to. His other hand, tired of clothes being in the way, moved to swiftly unbutton her shirt, so as to pull down any sort of cloth and set to work on her naked breast.

She moaned again as he moved his mouth down, now, onto her neck, then collarbone, kissing and biting and licking the entire way, staking claims and sending jolts of pleasure through Hungary's body. A gasp tore through her swollen lips when she felt two rough fingers rubbing at her hard nipple, and then another, louder one, when teeth and lips and tongue descended upon it. Her hands were now in his hair, gripping at locks and forcing him to stay still, to prolong her pleasure.

"Neils," she groaned, her thighs twitching and chest heaving. Oh, god, how she just wanted him.

He chuckled, a deep and throaty sound, lust making it lower than normal. Once he had decided that just that one boob was enough, he went ahead and freed the other one, dropping Hungary's raised leg in favor of using both his hands, albeit not in the same spot. While his left rubbed and groped at her ample chest, the right one traveled a bit lower, beneath her skirt and to her already wet and trembling slit.

And Hungary gasped even louder than before, almost a scream, at the sudden sensation of his long, rough fingers, poking and rubbing and stroking at her womanhood. She was panting difficultly, her face flushed and body quivering with excitement. "Neils," she cried out again, her fingers tightening and twisting in his hair.

And then it was too much for Denmark—he had to have her, finally. "Oh, god, Liz," he moaned, lifting his head to kiss her again, to silence him and her. He kept his right hand at Hungary's crotch, playing away with her sensitivity there, but his other went down to his pants, to free his growing erection.

She moved to stop him, and he broke away from the kiss, completely confused. "Liz...?"

If Hungary could blush anymore, she might've. "I...want to do it," she breathed, trying to sound stubborn but just sounding oh, so, delicious.

So she—somehow, Denmark wasn't paying attention—flipped their positions so as Denmark was the one pressed so forcefully against the wall, and she dropped to her knees, trying to remember every detail from her past. First, slowly, she rubbed her hand over the bulge in his pants, stroking it, teasing it. When he let out a little groan, she went ahead and undid his buckle, popped the button and, slowly, pulled down the zipper, making it a horrible, prolonged deal for him. Then, with his erection liberated from the zipper metal, but not the cloth of his boxers, she wrapped her mouth around it, hot and damp.

The unexpected feeling of Hungary's mouth around his length almost made him come, despite the cloth still being in the way. His hand went straight to her head, gripping onto it, but trying not to force it anyhow, because then she would hate that and then she'd stop. She didn't make things any better for him when she rubbed her hand along the bottom side of it, still fucking teasing him. He had to bite his cheek as hard as he could, even drawing out blood, to keep his load still in him.

Finally—finally!—she seemed to had taken enough of the bothersome fabric, and she tugged at his waistband, bringing it down low enough for his cock to be released. He finally sighed, some sort of relief making his shoulders slack, but then tensed again when started licking the tip of it, tentative and knowing. God, just how much was she going to tease him? Denmark's other hand went to her head and she leaned in, starting to suck on him, actually trying to make him come. Which he complied to happily.

"Oh, fuck," he rasped, coming to his senses long enough to remember that he had just came inside her mouth. And—oh, god, she had swallowed? "I'm sorry, I should've warned you."

She shook her head and wiped her mouth with her sleeve, rising to her full height. "S'okay," she mumbled softly, her voice oddly high-pitched. She leaned in for another kiss, and he responded gladly, pulling her in closer with his long arms, tasting every perfect bit of her.

But then she pulled at his tie, and he broke away already knowing to follow her to her bedroom, pushing her down on the bed with a soft plop, and then landing on top of her, kissing her and tasting her and loving her all over again. Their hands worked quick magic, ridding every bit of stuff on them—clothes, jewelry, accessories, everything. Nothing was going to get in their way, not now.

They had both had enough of the teasing. Now, they were going straight to what they wanted. Denmark, poised over her, kissed her one last time before plunging his length into her, feeling how she went from tongues to moans in seconds at the invasion of her vital regions. At first, his rhythm was a little slow and clumsy, testing the waters carefully, so as not to hurt her, but then she wrapped her legs around his waist, crying out for "more, more!", and he went in harder and faster, making her take all of him.

She was thrashing on the bed, her nails going from clawing the bed sheets to the pillow to his back, all in seconds. The spikes of pleasure in her body were overwhelming, she couldn't remember feeling like this, and she didn't want to forget, either. All she was thinking was of how she wanted more, harder, deeper, and how she loved, how she just loved Denmark, and how she couldn't hold on any longer.

He felt like he wasn't going to take any longer, either. Gritting his teeth, holding Hungary's hips and thrusting into her was all he thought he could do. Anything else would be a miracle. It was a wonder he was even breathing.

And, with those thoughts and emotions in both their heads, they seemed to sync at last, nearing each other for another goddamn kiss, this time unbroken, even as they both came.


Hungary was still a yaoi fangirl. Nothing would—or could—stop that.

It wasn't like Denmark hadn't known that, of course. He'd watched her in those meeting, seen how she'd filled up scrap pieces of paper with doodles of men laughing, holding hands, kissing. Yeah, it was a little weird at first, but he still liked her. He still had wanted to date her, for a long time. It's just, y'know, you can't just exactly do that when you're in a worldwide war, yeah? So he waited for the next time to see her, so he could ravish her, make her forget about two men together and think about one man with her.

Too bad he hadn't realized that, by entering in that relationship, he would just then be asked to set up threesomes with Norway, just so that Hungary would decidedly not show up.