Don't Smut all Over my Cooking!

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[A/n: 2,542 words later..... I may have got carried away with the amount of love in this chapter. Sorry (not really).]

Germany X Sassy! Male! Reader (Smut)

Art by Victory_Peaches on Deviant Art

Requested by gaynessoverload231

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He loves you. He loves you with his entire being. His heart explodes and blood rushes to his head whenever his name rolls off your tongue. He never thought that you, a simple (Country) native, would fall in love with the brutal German country himself. He thought that you would just laugh at him and joke about it. He thought you would mock him and much worse things..... he mostly thought these things because you are both male.

You, a smaller build than what you would've liked, stood not that much shorter than him. Your hips were crafted as if the gods had a woman in mind and your shoulders which appeared to bear all your emotional burdens. You were pleasing to the eye. Your (hair color) (hair length) (hairstyle: curly or straight) hair framed your face nicely and went along with your demeanor.

Though Germany loved everything about you his favorite was your passionate (eye size) (eye color) eyes. He had never thought anyone could be so beautiful.

Your appearance counteracted your sassy, sassy, words. You appeared slightly delicate, but you spewed out mockery and sarcasm out the wazoo. German only thought that it was only heaven when he was in your presence, even if he didn't have your attention, just being there with you reminded him how much he was so desperately in love with you.

It was about half a decade ago that Germany and you started dating. His actions apprehensive and robotic in the beginning as he was wrapping his head around the fact that you were actually his. But when a year had passed you accidentally called him Ludwig, as Italy had done once before. Germany was nothing but a pile of mush at his human name being called out of your mouth.

After that, Germany didn't care. He loves loving you in public, he loves showing you off to the other countries in meetings. He loves to talk about you and talk with you.

In current events Germany stood in your shared kitchen, a pink apron (that you had bought him as a joke on you anniversary two years ago) draped around his neck and hugged his hips.

Through the years you two had been together you had never had sex. You had never seen each other completely naked, the most you had seen was each other's chest after a shower or you once saw Germany's glorious thighs when he forgot pants (but had on sexy half-thigh briefs). You both hadn't found the need to have sex, you were fine with the relationship as it was, unconditional, absolute, pure unadulterated, wholesome love. He cared for you and you cared for him.

But. Even though you loved each other something France said was looming over Germany. You knew he was bothered by it but you had no idea what it was. Germany had come home right from the world meeting, his brows furrowed and he pulled you off the couch bringing you into a heated, rough, kiss. You two talked about the meeting, but Germany didn't tell you what was said. After that he went to the kitchen and began to make a meal fit for a king, but instead, it was for his (Y/n). He calmed a little as he cooked, one of the many outlets he had.

Even though people tell you that you are nothing but a being of sass, you know when to be serious, when to not press on a subject, when to wait. You could do that much.

Germany called for you to the table in German, you figuring out by now the small meanings of a handful of phrases (though if you were to be asked to say them, you would be lost for words).

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