Hetalia: Nordic 5 Oneshots and Imagines

Iceland x Reader: Miniskirt (LIME)

A/N: Strong language. Also, Emil is 21 here.

Emil stared at (y/n). She was bouncing on the dance floor, hips moving in sync with the music. Emil took a swig of his beer as he continued to watch her. He didn't know why she was at his house, instead of a club.

She was clothed in a white spaghetti-strapped tank top. Her hips were hugged by a tight black miniskirt, exposing her bubble butt. The short skirt revealed long smooth legs, freshly shaven ones. Emil's amethyst orbs were on (y/n); but they were plastered towards her beautiful ass.

Puberty took control; the Icelandic man growing hard. He couldn't help it, her ass was way too fucking beautiful!

Dirty thoughts swam through his mind; his member hardening and a visible tent growing in his navy jeans. He began to pant at his arousal. Fuck, he hated this! But he loved it at the same time.

The music suddenly stopped, his trance shaken away. She was walking over to him. (Y/n). Her hips going side-to-side with every step.

"Damn," he muttered. There was no way he could cover his bulge. (Y/n) was here. His face grew many shades of crimson.

"H-hi," Emil squeaked. The male stretched his blue and white shirt to hide his arousal. But she saw. A smile was on her lips; one of her hands placed on his bulge. Her index finger gave the hardening muscle an innocent little scratch.

"FUCK!" Emil screamed out, her touch driving the man to insanity. His back arched, sinking into this feeling.

Her hands left the area, a smirk on her rosy-red lips. She was satisfied with her masterpiece; a panting mess of a boyfriend, completely aroused and ready to jump.

"I-I-" Emil breathed between pants.

"Já?" She whispered near his ear, her hot breath tickling his lobe. Emil moaned at the feeling, and how the Icelandic word slipped of her tongue so effortlessly.

"I w-want you. I-I couldn't h-help it. Fuck." He moaned once again.

"Mmmmm," (Y/n) pursed her lips together, placing them on his lips to start a feverish kiss. She placed her hips on his crotch; his member touching every little nook-and-cranny between her legs. Yes, they were straddling.

Her hands began to work their magic; still liplocked into the kiss. His shirt slipped off like a glove, revealing his handsomely lean chest.

(E/c) and lilac irises met, his shining with lust. A twinkle was in hers, as she rubbed her knee to the area. His hands placed themselves onto the miniskirt, sliding it down past her knees.

In no time, they were both completely naked. Things just escalated from there.

****
Hey.

So, I felt the need to post a fic at 11:00 PM, for some reason.

Iceland does not belong to me.

Enjoy!