No More Coffee [from the kink meme]
Jan. 7th, 2010 11:17 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
historizeTitle: No More Coffee
Author/Artist:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
historyblitz, kept track of at historize
Character(s) or Pairing(s): Ireland, Scotland, Wales, England
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: very mild sexual implications
Summary: Someone on the kink meme requested "fem!Ireland sucking seductively on a lollipop". I got a kick out of this prompt, so I took it and did a short bit on it.
It's so short.
Ireland sat innocently enough.
She really did. England sat stiff and straight on her right side. She could smell the starch in his uniform. He was scribbling notes and casting sour glances all around the room, except when he got to America, where he’d grow even uglier with disdain.
Ireland knew why, of course. America’s hip boss had inspired the boy to turn in his crazy antics and actually get some work down. England was jealous. Well that was no big surprise. England was always jealous of something.
On England’s right sat poor Northern Ireland. Ireland herself still had the wicked scar across her lower back from that night. The boy was always twitchy. He never smiled. He seemed constantly in shell-shock. Too much fighting in his young life. He had red hair like she did but England’s darker green eyes, not like her paler green ones. Sometimes he loved Ireland, sometimes he hated her. But, he was still her poor brother. God have mercy on the lad.
On Ireland’s left was her elder brother, Scotland. Scotland was big and tall, muscular and barrel-like. Despite his size though, Ireland knew him to be an old softy. They had been together a few thousand years and over time, one gets to know almost everything about the other. He was fierce in a fight and determined but his hands could be gentle and often were.
Ireland was not taking notes anymore. She hated taking notes. Younger brother Wales took much better notes, maybe she could copy his. Where was Wales anyway?
She looked around Scotland; Wales’ chair was empty.
“Something wrong?” Scotland asked in that low brogue of his.
“Aye, yeah, you make a better door than a window, lad. Where’s Wales?”
Scotland laughed and tugged on a strand of her curly red hair. “Went to get coffee and a bite. He’ll be back.”
As if summoned, Wales suddenly returned. England looked at the three of them irritably. They all ignored him. “Brought coffee,” Wales murmured. He was very slight, compared to Scotland but with the same dark hair. His eyes were a foggy gray. He set down coffee for Scotland and one for himself and held out a lollipop for Ireland.
She raised an eyebrow at it and then looked at it. “What’s this then?”
“They were out of coffee.” Wales had this way of saying everything with an absolute serious deadpan.
“You’re joking,” Ireland rolled her eyes but snatched the lollipop. “You owe me later, brother.”
“Not my fault they didn’t have more coffee,” Wales deadpanned again, sitting down and taking out his deck of cards again. He liked those damn cards. Ireland had half a mind to dump his coffee on them.
Scotland smiled and smothered a laugh.
“Could you three be quiet?” England snapped at his older siblings.
Ireland looked up and around the room as she unwrapped her lollipop.
“Sorry, lads, can you hear something? It sounds irritable and goose-like?”
There was a snort from across the table and she glanced up, seeing that America had his hand over his mouth. Ireland took a lick of her lollipop and looked to England, wide-eyed and innocent. “I didn’t hear a thing, brother.” She licked the lollipop.
England flustered and looked away, muttering some oath under his breath.
She smirked and looked away. Scotland was giving her a smile, though it was reproachful. “Oh, come now,” she said, “after everything he’s done to us—and then spent so much time garnering the pity of everyone around him—I don’t feel sorry for him at all.” She licked her lollipop. “Drink your coffee,” she said, smiling.
Scotland smiled and shook his head. He sipped his coffee.
Ireland licked her lollipop, she licked and licked. She stopped to suck around the curved edge. Sugar coated her tongue, coloring coated her lips in red and blue, turning purple. She looked up to note that France was watching her. He gave her a smirk and wink.
She rolled her eyes and shook her head. That made the Frenchman grin and give her a pointed nod.
She looked confused at him and then over. Scotland was watching her. He started a little and looked away. She looked up at him. “Are you all right?”
“M’fine,” he said shortly.
“Is your coffee too strong?” she tried a smile, teasing and reached over, dipping the lollipop in and stirring the coffee with it. She brought it out, dripping and started licking and sucking the coffee off of it.
“Would you stop acting like that?” England muttered to her, angrier now.
Ireland looked away from her dripping lollipop and sneered at him. “Would you stop acting like you can order me around any more, little brother?”
“You’re distracting others.”
“Well, I guess that’s because meetings in London are so dreadfully dull.”
She looked away, back to her lollipop and let her tongue slide over it, swirling on the loops of colors.
Scotland was watching her again. She could feel him tensing beside her. She slid her tongue over the flat, ribbed disk of candy; the tip of her tongue tickled the center. She teased it, caressed it, swept across it. She filled her mouth with it, drew it out and thrust it back inside again.
Someone announced the meeting was over. Ireland barely heard it because a large, warm palm grabbed her by the arm and jerked her from her seat. She stumbled. “The bloody hell are you doing!”
England looked curiously after them.
Wales said, “He’s probably gone to have a stout talk with her.”
“If only,” England muttered.
Scotland did drag her off down the hallways of the conference hall, into the hotel. He did not speak, nor answer her increasingly annoyed questions. They entered his hotel room and he shoved her against the door. “Go on.”
His eyes bore into her.
She looked at him, then at the lollipop and started to smile. “You mean this lolli?”
He nodded, once.
She smirked. “All right…” She brought it back to her mouth, lapping at the ripples in the candy, letting her tongue swirl and follow the rings. She sucked on the outer curve again, sweeping over red and blue and green and then engulfing it in her mouth. A short breath escaped Scotland. Her eyes found his, meeting and caressing his. She gently thrust the lollipop in and out of her mouth. She swallowed around it, drew it out, broad of her tongue dragging up the side—
Suddenly, he pinned her hand to the wall. She jumped a little, looked over and then back—and then he was kissing her, pressing up against her. She could feel how hard he was. “That….over a lollipop…” she murmured huskily, ending in a little moan when he rubbed against her.
“You little witch,” he growled, free hand moving up to her breasts.
“Haha….ah…guess this means no more coffee at conferences for me?”
“Fuck—something like that—“
Author/Artist:
historyblitz, kept track of at historizeCharacter(s) or Pairing(s): Ireland, Scotland, Wales, England
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: very mild sexual implications
Summary: Someone on the kink meme requested "fem!Ireland sucking seductively on a lollipop". I got a kick out of this prompt, so I took it and did a short bit on it.
It's so short.
Ireland sat innocently enough.
She really did. England sat stiff and straight on her right side. She could smell the starch in his uniform. He was scribbling notes and casting sour glances all around the room, except when he got to America, where he’d grow even uglier with disdain.
Ireland knew why, of course. America’s hip boss had inspired the boy to turn in his crazy antics and actually get some work down. England was jealous. Well that was no big surprise. England was always jealous of something.
On England’s right sat poor Northern Ireland. Ireland herself still had the wicked scar across her lower back from that night. The boy was always twitchy. He never smiled. He seemed constantly in shell-shock. Too much fighting in his young life. He had red hair like she did but England’s darker green eyes, not like her paler green ones. Sometimes he loved Ireland, sometimes he hated her. But, he was still her poor brother. God have mercy on the lad.
On Ireland’s left was her elder brother, Scotland. Scotland was big and tall, muscular and barrel-like. Despite his size though, Ireland knew him to be an old softy. They had been together a few thousand years and over time, one gets to know almost everything about the other. He was fierce in a fight and determined but his hands could be gentle and often were.
Ireland was not taking notes anymore. She hated taking notes. Younger brother Wales took much better notes, maybe she could copy his. Where was Wales anyway?
She looked around Scotland; Wales’ chair was empty.
“Something wrong?” Scotland asked in that low brogue of his.
“Aye, yeah, you make a better door than a window, lad. Where’s Wales?”
Scotland laughed and tugged on a strand of her curly red hair. “Went to get coffee and a bite. He’ll be back.”
As if summoned, Wales suddenly returned. England looked at the three of them irritably. They all ignored him. “Brought coffee,” Wales murmured. He was very slight, compared to Scotland but with the same dark hair. His eyes were a foggy gray. He set down coffee for Scotland and one for himself and held out a lollipop for Ireland.
She raised an eyebrow at it and then looked at it. “What’s this then?”
“They were out of coffee.” Wales had this way of saying everything with an absolute serious deadpan.
“You’re joking,” Ireland rolled her eyes but snatched the lollipop. “You owe me later, brother.”
“Not my fault they didn’t have more coffee,” Wales deadpanned again, sitting down and taking out his deck of cards again. He liked those damn cards. Ireland had half a mind to dump his coffee on them.
Scotland smiled and smothered a laugh.
“Could you three be quiet?” England snapped at his older siblings.
Ireland looked up and around the room as she unwrapped her lollipop.
“Sorry, lads, can you hear something? It sounds irritable and goose-like?”
There was a snort from across the table and she glanced up, seeing that America had his hand over his mouth. Ireland took a lick of her lollipop and looked to England, wide-eyed and innocent. “I didn’t hear a thing, brother.” She licked the lollipop.
England flustered and looked away, muttering some oath under his breath.
She smirked and looked away. Scotland was giving her a smile, though it was reproachful. “Oh, come now,” she said, “after everything he’s done to us—and then spent so much time garnering the pity of everyone around him—I don’t feel sorry for him at all.” She licked her lollipop. “Drink your coffee,” she said, smiling.
Scotland smiled and shook his head. He sipped his coffee.
Ireland licked her lollipop, she licked and licked. She stopped to suck around the curved edge. Sugar coated her tongue, coloring coated her lips in red and blue, turning purple. She looked up to note that France was watching her. He gave her a smirk and wink.
She rolled her eyes and shook her head. That made the Frenchman grin and give her a pointed nod.
She looked confused at him and then over. Scotland was watching her. He started a little and looked away. She looked up at him. “Are you all right?”
“M’fine,” he said shortly.
“Is your coffee too strong?” she tried a smile, teasing and reached over, dipping the lollipop in and stirring the coffee with it. She brought it out, dripping and started licking and sucking the coffee off of it.
“Would you stop acting like that?” England muttered to her, angrier now.
Ireland looked away from her dripping lollipop and sneered at him. “Would you stop acting like you can order me around any more, little brother?”
“You’re distracting others.”
“Well, I guess that’s because meetings in London are so dreadfully dull.”
She looked away, back to her lollipop and let her tongue slide over it, swirling on the loops of colors.
Scotland was watching her again. She could feel him tensing beside her. She slid her tongue over the flat, ribbed disk of candy; the tip of her tongue tickled the center. She teased it, caressed it, swept across it. She filled her mouth with it, drew it out and thrust it back inside again.
Someone announced the meeting was over. Ireland barely heard it because a large, warm palm grabbed her by the arm and jerked her from her seat. She stumbled. “The bloody hell are you doing!”
England looked curiously after them.
Wales said, “He’s probably gone to have a stout talk with her.”
“If only,” England muttered.
Scotland did drag her off down the hallways of the conference hall, into the hotel. He did not speak, nor answer her increasingly annoyed questions. They entered his hotel room and he shoved her against the door. “Go on.”
His eyes bore into her.
She looked at him, then at the lollipop and started to smile. “You mean this lolli?”
He nodded, once.
She smirked. “All right…” She brought it back to her mouth, lapping at the ripples in the candy, letting her tongue swirl and follow the rings. She sucked on the outer curve again, sweeping over red and blue and green and then engulfing it in her mouth. A short breath escaped Scotland. Her eyes found his, meeting and caressing his. She gently thrust the lollipop in and out of her mouth. She swallowed around it, drew it out, broad of her tongue dragging up the side—
Suddenly, he pinned her hand to the wall. She jumped a little, looked over and then back—and then he was kissing her, pressing up against her. She could feel how hard he was. “That….over a lollipop…” she murmured huskily, ending in a little moan when he rubbed against her.
“You little witch,” he growled, free hand moving up to her breasts.
“Haha….ah…guess this means no more coffee at conferences for me?”
“Fuck—something like that—“
