fluoride - a countryhumans smut-shot book

- soviet x uk ii

warning, the following one-shot contains...
masturbation, choking, soviet has a thing for hands, idk dude it's just soviet jerking off and imagining it's uk

ussr stormed in his office, teeth gritting.
he ripped off his eyepatch and threw it to the side, looking in the mirror.
"what the fuck was that!?"
the younger man in the mirror looked up, slightly shocked and red in the face.
"wh-what do you mean?"
ussr narrowed his eyes, restraining himself from punching the mirror.
"you know what i mean. why were you reacting like that to uk? i wanted to tell him to shut up!"
soviet flushed, glancing down at their feet.
"mr america and russia were there! i didn't want to humiliate us-"
the taller man punched the wall next to the mirror, wincing at the feeling of the splintered wood.
"whatever! fucking- get out! take your shard out!"
soviet looked scared for a second, before disappearing from the reflection.
all ussr was left with was his own disheveled reflection.
his reflection with one entirely black eye.
soon enough, the shorter man appeared at his feet.
"i need time away from you, your agenda is poisoning my brain. i don't care what you do, just get away from me,"
soviet's black eyes watered, but he nodded and shuffled away anyway.

"again? seriously?"
the slavic man flushed in embarrassment but nodded, being pulled inside by the taller man.
"russia! can you make sure sovi's room is clean? ussr kicked him out again,"
"sure, give me a second,"
america took a sip out of the mug he was holding, before returning to the kitchen.
"i'm watching mina and andris right now, but they're asleep in their rooms so they shouldn't be a problem. just go get some rest,"
russia then walked out, his leg bouncing as he did.
"you're all good."

soviet awkwardly shuffled to his bed, sitting down at the edge and thinking about what had happened that day.
uk was teasing them- no, him.
uk was teasing him.
that's how he'd addressed them. not ussr, not vladimir, a mocking nickname he'd given them, he'd called them sovi.
and he was very touchy, much to ussr's discomfort.
soviet swallowed a lump in his throat, thinking of the way uk had traced in between their pecs, canines peaking through his pink lips.
he wanted to bite them.
he wanted, he wanted.
ashamedly, the russian brought his hand to his legs and started to slowly palm at the bulge.
he'd hyperfixated on uk all of the un meeting.
his eyes glinted playfully whenever he'd caught soviet staring, and at one point he'd felt uk kick his knee and linger a bit too long around his calf.
this was dangerous, he couldn't mistake uk teasing ussr for uk teasing him. those were very different, he and ussr were very different.
but he couldn't help himself as he unzipped his jeans and grabbed lube out of his bedside drawer.
it was embarrassing how he'd always end up here.
soviet sighed in content as he wrapped his fist around himself, closing his eyes and imagining a smaller, tanner hand in place of his own.
he whimpered, and imaginary him met the eyes of uk.
the image of the british country was almost perfect, crafted over hours of staring and years of listening to him rant.
uk leaned close to him, tongue flicking out, a subconscious tick of his.
slowly, he moved his hand up,
soviet groaned as he played with the tip, moving his hand down and flicking his wrist.
the slavic cursed himself, but brought up his free hand and squeezed gently.
again, in his imagination this hand was lithe and had a stark contrast to his pale, stubbled skin.
uk narrowed his eyes in concentration, coming closed to soviet's face and nibbling on the taller country's lip.
remembering his intrusive thought from before, soviet reached out to bite the soft lips, but was stopped by a harsh squeeze of his neck. since it was he himself who'd done it, it really shouldn't turn him on as much as it does, but this crafted image of uk was hot and he was so, so desperate after weeks of pent up frustration being trapped inside ussr.
uk teased them often, whether it be basically deep-throating their drink straw, or feeling up one of the republics while they watched, it was a common occurrence.
it had the intended effect on ussr, to rile him up at thinking he was gay and make him mad, but for soviet?
he'd wanted uk before he was part of soviet, but now he thinks he'll die if he doesn't fuck the country within the next year.
but, he'd gotten distracted, and what he wishes was uk noticed.
he clicked his tongue, and dragged soviet forward by the neck, moving past his face to nibble on the tip of his ear.
imagining uk taking control (and also the feeling of the harsh coat fabric on his dick) was all he needed to be pushed over the edge.
he opened his eyes to a bland sight.
his ruined pants and the pale floor.
maybe next time he'll go to uk's house and not america's.
but for now, soviet will take those imaginary scenarios over nothing at all.

- - - -

idk i was bored
please request things i only willingly write like two ships and thats ukiet and rusame
-casse