You and Soviet are married- for a short while now, actually. You were a leader of another country. It’s supposed to be an arranged marriage, really. But you ended up making him fall for you anyway. Somehow. His 8 year old son, Russia, seems to like you too as a mama.

Since this really takes place in the 1900s, the need to have kids were high. And Soviet did not have any arguments against having kids. He NEEDED them to continue his bloodline.

Thats how you’re now pushed onto the bed, you gripping the sheets tightly as you moaned and whimpered with tears in the corners of your eyes. Soviet was thrusting in and out of you from behind, he was big as fuck—and even though you two have done this before, you still can’t get over it. His grip on your wrist was bruising yet had a touch of gentleness—and you don’t even know how many times he’s came inside you, or how many times you’ve came yourself. His seed was oozing out of you, yet he didn’t stop. Fuck his stamina, how long can he go for really? And he’s not stopping at all...

“You’re loving this, aren’t you, подсолнечник? ебать...” He murmured into your ear, not slowing down his thrusts at all. Russia was asleep in his room—and the door was...not locked. Fuck. It’s too late now.