Hetalia Party: Magenta!
"Chug! Chug! Chug!" Another round won to Denmark. Face it NO ONE could defeat the ALWAYS drunk Denmark. He invited you over to his house in a rather odd fashion.
*Flashback*
The phone rings at 9:30 in the damn afternoon. Of course it's Denmark. Please don't tell me I have to go pick his ass up from the pub again. To your surprise, when you answered, there was music booming from the other end of the receiver. "_. baby! What's the King of Nothern Europe, without his smexi queen?"
Denmark was obviously past the point of handling a cell phone properly and it felt as if a mega phone had been driven into your now bleeding eardrums. "Get down here to the party, or imma have to come getcha!"
Denmark hit a couple of buttons before actually pressing the 'end call' button. "Holy hell...i'm going to what kind of party?" You thought. You were actually quite terrified, what if he drew out his axe again.
However, you didn't want him to be seen in public in his state. So you hurriedly put together some clothes and drove your ass over the speed limit like a female version of Italy, so Denmark wouldn't have to get you.
*End Flashback*
Is this supposed to be entertaining? Iceland took pity on having Denmark do this to you, so he schemed a bit and with some effort got everyone to play the 'holy' game, seven minutes in heaven. Denmark plopped down in the seat next to you on his love sofa.
His stench smelled strongly of alcohol. You plugged your nose a bit and attempted to hold your breath. Neither truly helped and you gave in. "Denmark...why do you drink so much?" you dumbly asked.
Denmark found no reason to answer a question like that, his only reason was 'it was fun'. A vase was presented in the middle of an enormous maple table. "_! Why dush youu pickk fiirsst!" Denmark heaved his weight on you while trying to place his arm around your neck.
*Get the hell off me.* you thought. You did as told and drew a card. "Magenta." you read aloud. Denmark glanced at you, then the card, then to you before grinning like a moron. "Youu got meeh!"
*Oh holy crap..* you panicked.
You were one of the only other people, besides the poor Nordic nations that could handle and put up with Denmark, but who knows what he might be capable of when entrusted in a closet...with a female... You begrudgingly walked to the doom closet. Denmark already made himself at home. Once inside you were immediately glomped.
"Get off me!" You yelled smacking the ba-jesus out of Denmark. "I dun waaaanaaa!" Denmark whined. Denmark got to the point and slammed you against the wall. You gasped and whimpered out of pain and how sudden it happened.
Denmark captured your lips with his, it was fiery and full of passion. Denmark slid his hand to rest on your ass and you went back to take a good slap at him, however Denmark's other hand pinned both of your hands above your head.
He pried your mouth open and began to explore your mouth with his tongue, leaving no place untouched. You yelped when he bite your lower lip, drawing blood. He began to suck on the swollen and bruised lip making you whimper and moan.
Damn drunks were so fun. Too bad he wouldn't remember it. Denmark proceeded to find your sweet spot. He trailed butterfly kisses until you let out a strangled groan you were trying to suppress.
Smirking against your cool skin and sucked and nipped at the spot. "Mathias" you whispered. before things could continue as Denmark so wanted it too, America ruined the moment, naming him kill joy.
"Whoa! Things got spiceh!" America proclaimed as Denmark swept you up, and surprisingly rushed you upstairs (without stumbling due to the overuse of alcohol) to finish your 'after party'. Oh yeah, you definitely loved Denmark. ;)