Summary: Due to a request on Fanfiction, America had to write a usuk smut. One-shot.

Warning: imaginary smut, inevitable masturbation, a rushed ending and a decent amount of grammar mistakes. English is not my first language and I have very, very little confidence in it.

Comments and constructive criticism are highly appreciated!

America needed to write a usuk fanfic with smut.

More exactly, it's not like he 'must' write this embarrassing thing. He could totally refuse it, ignoring the almost begging tone of his secret requester who he knew nothing about except the fact that she must be a crazy usuk shipper, while updating his profile and announcing that he wouldn't do any request involving male countries' sexual activities on bed. He always wrote serious historical fanfics, after all; so far he'd only post two fanfics on fanfiction, one about how incredibly fast American military forces developed during the recent decades, while the other mainly concentrating on the decrease of the average weight of Americans (It's totally true without any doubt, mind you. He was just recently given statistics about that in future by Tony.) and the influence it had on the persona of the country.

Anyway, back to the topic. He had to face the most challenging dilemma in his whole life, and thinking random things of course couldn't help in the slightest. There was no way he could ignore the request, after all; he was the one said he could do any request about hetalia, and only God know what he was thinking about when he typed those words. He shouldn't have said that in the first place-no, he shouldn't have said he shipped usuk (he was of course not blushing now) from the beginning of all this shit. But now it's already too late, and he had no one to blame except himself. WONDERFUL.

But now…knowing there was no way back, America began to try to think about the only possible way to deal with it. Of course he had no intentions to do that, it was all for that crazy shipper, who demanded he must do all this crap for her because his writing style was the best and she would be heart-broken if being refused; besides, he was the hero, and hero never ate their words! He just couldn't be irresponsible, that's all.

So here he was, sitting in front of his computer, a hamburger in hand and a cup of coffee lying on the table by his side, countless thoughts roaring in mind and a dark blush on his cheeks. Madly shaking hands hesitantly laid themselves on the keyboard before quickly returned to the sides of their owner. NO, HE CAN'T DO THIS. Yes he was a usuk shipper, and yes he actually had read some piece of usuk fanfics with an undoubted little amount of smut, and yes he totally knew how to write it though with very few examples to follow (he'd never read very much usuk lemon like some crazy fangirls did, only needing them on extreme situations, mostly when a certain Brit's face haunted him in some of his dreams and he had no better choices than reading some good fucks while solving his little problem.) But there was a HUGE different between enjoying reading you fucking your secret crush and actually writing it! Just thinking of it made him feel embarrassed as hell. What if England found out? How would he react to this? Yeah he knew there was little chance that stick in the mud would know about hetalia, and he probably didn't even know what fanfiction was, but it didn't mean possibilities don't exist. He couldn't afford to lose all the chances of winning England's heart.

He couldn't do that.

With severe determination, America opened his PM box, trying to come up with a proper and tactful reply to the requester, whose name was usuk5ever-it was not until then that he noticed a very, very important thing that he should have knew by heart but mysteriously neglected before.

How on earth would England know who was him just by sheer guess and imagination?

America froze on the spot, suddenly overwhelmed by the strangely too late knowledge. What an idiot he was. He should have known it way much earlier; maybe he was just too nervous to realize this obviously undoubted fact. There was definitely no way England would find it out-he didn't know anything about America's writing style, in fact he never showed him any of his fairly satisfying works about his love for him. Besides, there were hundreds of authors on this website writing him fucking England's brains out (which he was secretly proud of and satisfied with), who could possibly tell him from those 'normal' fangirls?

There was no fucking way he could find out. No. Fucking. Way. So why was he freaking out? He could totally just open his damn Word and write down those damn words with his damn imagination. Yeah.

Finally determined, America opened Word, blankly staring at the screen while pondering how the hell to do it. He could just begin with taking off clothes and quickly accomplish this embarrassing mission, preparing two guys' wonderful fuck for his requester's own satisfaction. This way he wouldn't feel so damn guilty for imaging and even writing him fucking England with the other having no idea about this whole thing. But now he thought further, a new idea came up and kept occupying his mind. How about taking reality into this, imaging this was what would happen in future? By that he meant maybe England actually would confess to him someday, and he could begin with the confession and the inevitable sex after that-oh come on wasn't it the perfect time for the two new becoming lovers losing their must-be virginity(Yeah England MUST BE a virgin without doubt, don't you dare disagree)? Emotional climax combined with sexual climax was definitely the best thing ever.

I must be the most imaginative authors in the whole history of fanfiction, America thought, smiling from ear to ear. With this new idea, the whole typing things seemed to be easier to much extent; he quickly began with England's definite purposive visit-the so-called 'come over' according to the biggest tsundere in the world-where England would be blushing like a teenager girl when accidentally met his gaze, and melting in his 'sweet, tender, lovely' azure eyes, looking him in the way Japanese girls did when their senpais noticed them-

Okay, okay. He was just kidding, alright? Although he really wanted England to adore him, to softly stare at him with the beautiful emerald eyes of his, he was retentive enough to know there was something called OOC, and in reality or not England was not a soft person, let alone behaving in omg-Alfred-senpai-noticed-me mode. As much as he secretly enjoyed this whole imagination, he couldn't write this down.

So instead he just made England come to visit him to talk about 'vital issues about green-or whatever house gases', like he always did. And after some simple but necessary talks, their topic had changed from whatever gases to the coming whatever American movie. Until then, England would finally find a chance and said:

"A-Alfred, actually…I don't think that low of your mo-movies…"

And there must be some specific descriptios for this epic scene. America pondered for a while, then quickly typed in his ultimate imagination of his wonderful beloved Brit.

America stared at the Englishman in front of him, not even bothering to try to hide his shocked face. He knew him too well to believe one day this Brit would actually admit the most undoubted fact in the world. The only words he received about his movie were always pure sarcasm, without exception. He even began to get used to his sarcasm, even secretly enjoying his cute face when making such comments. But now…he blankly stared at the Brit, who was definitely avoiding his gaze on purpose, a blush reddening itself on his flawless cheeks.

What did he mean by that?

"A-and there were other things of yours I-I did appreciate…"Another surprise. America just bewilderingly sat still, watching England stammered-which was seldom seen because he was usually known for impressive eloquence. Suddenly, an almost crazy thought occurred in his mind, which he quickly denied its possibility. It couldn't be…absolutely couldn't be.

"I mean, not only some things about your country, your citizens, but also your-uh-personalities." OH SHIT It's happening it's happening now what should I do- all of sudden, numerous thoughts appeared, filling his brain with emotions and doubts and options and everything he never ever imagined would appear.

In such a shocked situation, America could barely move; he just sat still, as if the gentle breeze of summer night having sent chill down his spine, making him frozen, paralyzed, whole body becoming numb except for his madly beating little heart which hadn't experience such fierce beats since his day of independence.

That's masterpiece. America looked at his typed words with a satisfied grin. Yeah maybe it's a bit rush, but given that all was for the ultimate sex they meant to make, that was actually long enough.

"Yes, I have to say that, I-I really appreciate them. You're…loud, obnoxious, and way too stupid sometimes"

Guys, that was definitely not his own opinions of himself. But it would make sense, judging by the fact that the speakerwas England. After all, that's the main thing he wanted to express of the endless chattering.

"…but…you're also very cheerful, tender, sweet, always here for me…I can't imagine what my life was like without you. Alfred, you're the best hero in the whole world, and…I want to-to become hero's dam-damsel in distress…"

Don't you dare disagree with the last sentence! It's epic! It's England's motto and he would remember each word with heart and soul!

Okay maybe not real England but who cares, anyway. America knew exactly what's going on in those crazy shippers' mind. They wanted not only a wonderful smut but a shy and cute Iggy with blush invading his eyebrows and tsundereness exploding like volcano. And as a responsible author, he would try his best to give them what they wanted.

"A-Artie…"

America was in a daze. How could he not be? His secret love was confessing to him. YES CONFESSING. He was surprised he hadn't died of heart attack.

"…and-and what I mean by that was…I-I love you."

And England had to be the one first confessed. Without doubt. Reasons? He was England and America was the one writing this and that's all.

A sudden surge of sheer happiness was exploding, spreading in his whole body, making his limbs shaking madly. When he was still too happy and too bewildered to snap out of his daze, a certain pair of lips had already on his own, sucking and licking the warm appendage, tenderly but eagerly at the same time. America immediately reacted to the Brit's bold action, stretching his arms to pull his love into a tight embrace.

It wasn't long before the lovers' chaste kisses quickly turned into something as hot as French kisses. Both mouths were widely opened, with both tongues eagerly beginning their adventures in the cavern of love. The two tongues, both as virgin as their owners, were gently exploring the other's teeth and cheeks, as if they were dancing to the silent music of love echoing in the room. Soon the growing desire overrode simple intentions to keep kissing, and America suddenly enlarged the space between them, before narrowed it by sucking and licking the Brit's collarbone. Surprised cries escaped from his throats, but soon being replaced by moans of pure pleasure, and the only thought echoing in England's mind was more, more-

Fuck. Even it was all written by himself, the sudden image of England begging for more was too much for him to handle. The most beautiful scenery he could think of was appearing in front of him. Creamy skin, slim torso, long eyelashes, red inviting lips and that damn sexy look.

There was hot. And he was too hot. It's definitely against the law.

Learning England's desperate urge, even feeling on fire because of this cute little thing in front of him, America still patiently whispered to his ears:

"Wanna go to bed Artie?"

America was satisfied to find his warm breath seemingly having sent a shiver down his lover's spine. The other blond was almost bewildered-he never imagined America, his secret little crush, could have such a deep and intriguing voice mixed with love and desire.

Nooooooooo doubt, it's true, America totally had that fucking sexy voice and no one in the world can outshine it. Don't believe? I suggest you watch that well-known usuk drama cd on Youtube. You would have the largest lady boner in your whole life for him. BE AWARE.

By the way, don't you dare ask why America had to be the seme. It was because he was America and that's how the things worked.

England shyly nodded a bit, cute blush reddening. America chuckled slightly at the Brit's almost unnoticeable nodding-such a tsundere-before suddenly carried England in bridal-style

Bridal-style. What would America not give to see England embarrassingly burying his head into his chest when he was doing so? Imagine that messy sandy blond hair of his accidentally brushing against his bare collarbone. And the sense would certainly bring a wave of pleasure to his vital regions.

Speaking of which, he had already felt hard. His groin was as if it was on fire, and all of a sudden his pants became tight as hell.

The pair quickly went to America's bedroom and locked the door, before America harshly threw England onto the mattress. Can't blame him, his wet dream where England voluntarily laid on his bed would come true and all he needed to do was to peel off that annoying clothes of his and pull down that unnecessary pants of his and put his cock into-

Wait he couldn't type this! This was perverted! They had just confessed and there was no way America would behave so impatiently. At least not in this fanfic. And England should be the one more desperate-after all he planned this confession. Although in real life America knew he was the one more likely to kidnap the other and tie him up and do whatever he wanted, he couldn't write this down. He should make England seduce him, eagerly peeling off his clothes, and staring at his cock like a starving wolf staring at its captive. Then some more detailed description was necessary, such as-

England stared at the man in front of him-if gaze could turn into some solid substance like hands then now he must be groping America with the aroused gaze of his. How could he never realize this supposed-to-be-fat guy have such beautiful, intriguing and sexy muscles? To him, the sight in front of him was almost unbelievable. Besides, the size of his cock-England blushed when looking at that-could undoubtedly make every man in the world jealous and drive every woman crazy

America paused for a second, satisfied with those wonderful sentences while pondering whether or not he should add some specific statistics, you know, for his size. But he quickly brushed off this sudden idea. It's too idealistic-after all, logic was essential. How could England know his size just by observation? Nonsense.

However, not mentioning the specific size of his massive dick didn't mean he couldn't brag about it. There were other ways. He could describe it from England's eyes.

Bewildered must be the only word proper to describe England at the moment. He'd never realized before, that time could totally change a person both mentally and physically, carving out a living sculpture of God. Oh God his cock-that thing was massive, enormous, huge, giant, long and attractive from all aspects; his manhood absolutely deserved linguists creating a new adjective for it. And soon that huge thing of his would bury its head into his virgin hole, like an animal exploring a desert cavern, the heated skin-covered in slick pre-cum gently brushing the walls of his insides

Fuck no shit I need to accomplish this please don't distract me please you cruel and heartless monsterliving in my pants

And just as his expectation, America quickly tackled him, resulting in the pair lying on the bed, limbs tangling and skins brushing, before sucking and licking the pink nipples of the man below him. England gasped, moans escaping his throat as needs burning in his blood. This heavenly pleasure was…incredible.

When England was still somehow in his daze, America had already begun to prepare for what meant to be happening. He gently placed numerous kisses on the Brit's milky skin, his slim torso, his bushy eyelashes and his pink, warm lips while hands impatiently rummaging in his pocket. Soon he found that bottle of lube he prepared beforehand

Yeah America did prepare that beforehand because he knew all of this would somehow happened today. Fuck who cares now? His little problem was becoming more and more impossible to ignore. Why must he write this now in this room, where the hero and damsel in distress were going to have sex on this certain mattress? America gasped, eyes unconsciously glancing at the bed lying by his side, shaking hands pulling out his cock. It's time for imagination…

Lying on the mattress under him, naked body exposed like a new birth was England; not the grumpy, cold Englishman who tent to yell at him at every meeting, but a cute little thing squirming like a slut in heat. His legs were wiggling, giving him a perfect view of his slim waist, pump cheeks and that inviting hole between them.

"Give it to me, dear," he whispered, "I want you to fuck me until I can't walk for a whole week, please, put your cock in me, please, please"

Enough. ENOUGH

How dare you request me to write this shit, usuk5ever? You son of a bitch your parents would be shamed of you they didn't bring you up to read those shameless smut and even request such a decent person as him to write one, you had ruined this poor guy's soul. You tricked this guy into imagination but didn't give him a real hole to fuck!

America could no longer concentrate on the fanfic he's working on. His hands were no longer lying on the keyboard-instead they were gripping his cock, giving pressure on the growing hard of his. He tried to use the softest part of his hand to touch his cock, imitating the flexible and delicate fingers of England. Warm palms subconsciously crawled down to his vital regions as hips kept thrusting into his imaginary fuck hole. England was right here, moaning his name while squirming and wiggling, the sudden tightness of his ass immediately sending a surge of pleasure to his groin. The ring of muscle engulfed his member perfectly, the warmth and the tightness and the friction almost made him on the edge of insanity. Everything surrounding faded into something blurred, merging into heavenly happiness, reducing to a mess of sweat and heat; the line between reality and imagination was no long there, while the only men in the world were him and England, and the only words existed were fuck and fuuck and fuuuuck. And he obeyed the only word that made sense at the moment, relentlessly thrusting into that hole, imaginary or not, keeping the movement of in and out, in and out, and more in and out. The most sensitive part of him was squeezed by slick, soft, sweet wall of the Brit's insides, and there was no other place than this fucking intriguing hole in which he'd loved to spend the rest of his life.

Fuck this little whore and his secret weapon. That hole of his was definitely a trap, a contemptible strategy aiming to reduce him to an aroused mess so that he could send British spies to steal America's top secret files when he was too distracted to notice. Fuck logic, he didn't care, after all there were no better reasons than this one, which perfectly explained why he could find so much pleasure with two hands and a brain filled with imagination.

Before long America approached his orgasm-a sudden sense of release overwhelmed his mind while a large amount of warm liquid rushed into his hands. He couldn't help but imagine England lying under him, cum leaking from his hole due to poor ability to contain, cascading down his cheeks and finally staining the sheet beneath-and he would harshly thrust into that hole of his until reached the end of his body, before resuming rocking his hips back and forth until England cried and begged him to stop, until England's scream could be heard by everyone in the world, by which he could claim that England was his and his only. Or else he could locked him in his basement, fucking him every five hours, until he couldn't say anything other than America please, please, please-

I NEED TO STOP.

I'm more perverted than France now.

America struggled to standing up with wobbling limbs, whole body drained of strength after orgasm. He managed to go to the washroom, cleaning himself with shaking hands, before sitting on the couch, trying to relax. This whole thing was too much for him to handle. Of course this wasn't his first time masturbating while thinking of England-actually he believed that if masturbation cum counted and England was a girl, he must be pregnant all the time and have dozens of children-but this time's imagination must be the hottest thing he had so far.

And thinking of that, though still satisfied with his orgasm, he felt pathetic for imaging and only daring to imagine having sex with England with the other having no idea about it. If only he could finally muster his courage and confess to his first and forever love…

America sighed sadly, staring at the ceiling idly while sudden sound of knocks on the door jolted him. A glance at the clock told him it's 8 o'clock. Who could this visitor be at this moment?

Confused, America slowly stood up, before reluctantly pushing himself forward to the front door. He lazily opened the door, and met a person he didn't expect to be here right now.

"Hello, America. I know it's a little late, but I have some very important issues to talk about."

England, as cute as always, stood in front of him with an almost unnoticeable blush on his cheeks.

His smut hadn't been finished, but Gods would find a way to make it up for him, so now it's reality redeeming the rest of his story.

And America happily obeyed the decision of fate, closing the door behind the Brit.

END

A/N I-I can't believe I did it! It's my first time writing something in English more than 1000 words in my whole life. I hope it's not too bad, I've tried my best ;u; and sorry for that rushed ending, I was very tired and only wanted to finish it as soon as possible. And please ignore weird choices of word…