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Untitled (USSRxUK) || Oneshot ‼️smut warning‼️

This oneshot is very historically inaccurate. It contains smut, first time trying to write that so I hope it's not terrible.

This takes place after WWI. Britain is the youngest country on the Allies. Soviet and Reich are both 19, they're newer countries, and britain is 20. That's all the context I think is necessary I guess.

I don't ship USSR x Third Reich, and only included them as a plot device. I could only see them having a super toxic relationship if absolutely anything. There is some abuse mentioned/that takes place with their relationship.

Word count: 4,198 (weeps)

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The Great War, the most gruesome display of bloodshed to ever occur, had finally come to an end. The allies had thrown a party to celebrate, hosted by the Russian Empire, and the slightly disheveled form of the USSR sat alone on the couch. He hadn't participated in the war, and instead had watched as his father fought alongside the allies, with little interest in what was happening.

However, the younger country had taken a liking to one of the allies, a country who was aptly named Great Britain. The country had a youthful and otherwise unassuming appearance, he was the youngest member of the allies, after all, and his ability to hold his ground against the German Empire and his allies had astounded the Union.

Soviet sat, alone with his thoughts, silently praying the young male would attend the party. I mean, he has to, right? He played a huge part in the ordeal, he would definitely want to celebrate his victory. Right? Maybe he did not have an affinity for parties. Soviet mentally slapped himself; why was he so interested in the smaller country?

Just as Soviet made conclusions in his mind, the main door swung open. Speak of the devil, it was the UK himself. He held both doors open, gasping for breath as if he had run a marathon before arriving. He was sopping wet, clearly caught in a rainstorm, and his clothes dripped water onto the tiles beneath him. Odd, considering there wasn't a cloud in sight.

After a moment of catching his breath, the UK released the doors, and they slammed shut behind him. A few countries had turned to greet him, and Soviet was just about to bound from his seat in the direction of the male, but the appearance of his father made him stop dead in his tracks.

Soviet remained still, attempting to pick up the conversation being shared between his father and the small union.

"Привет, Britain." The Russian laid out his hand for the Englishman to shake. He did so, smiling warmly. "Welcome. I'd like to thank you for your aide during this... trying time."

The Brit appeared taken aback. "Oh- oh, no, no-!" He waved his hands frantically. "It was no trouble, none at all. I had to get involved, after all."

The Russian smiled. "Well, in light of this new... hm... acquaintance, if that's the proper word... I would like to introduce you to my son. USSR!"

USSR forced a surprised expression, attempting to pretend as if he weren't snooping on the entire conversation. He rushed over, inwardly thrilled with an opportunity to speak to the Englishman.

"USSR, meet Great Britain."

Soviet stood before the blue striped male, posture as perfect as he could manage. He extended his hand, gently shaking the other man's, bowing. He hoped Britain would appreciate the gesture.

"Oh- um—!" Britain appeared taken aback by Soviet's sign of respect, quickly bowing as well, albeit in a very messy way.

Soviet giggled a bit at the Brit's hesitancy, but received a glare from his father. He cleared his throat, returning to a neutral expression.