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Estonia was by no means bothered by his (lack of) love life.
He had better things to focus on, like Java and C++ and rewatching Eurovision. Maybe he'd just take some time to himself for this century, enjoy the (relative) peace, start worrying about romance later on. Besides, it's not like he had any options. None of his neighbors were available. Finland was practically married to Sweden already, Latvia was cute and trembling and way too young, Lithuania and Poland were a thing, Ukraine--Ukraine was like a big sister. Estonia couldn't even think about seeing her in That way. And Belarus and Russia were completely out of the question.
It's fine. It wasn't like he was a virgin, or anything (he's had a romp or two or three with mortals, before). He was perfectly content staying single in both the romantic and sexual department.
But Christ, does having the body of a horny seventeen-year-old have its problems. Estonia prides himself in his ability to think with his head over his heart, but sometimes his dick just wins over.
Like now.
He's naked, kneeling on the thread-bare carpet of his bedroom, muscles tense, feeling the thread dig almost painfully into his knees. There's a bottle of lube haphazardly tipped next to his thigh, and it'd bother him a lot more if he wasn't trying to fit a decently-sized rubber cock up his ass. (Because who cared if he bottomed this time? Nothing wrong with a bit of prostate stimulation. It's not that gay. It's scientifically proven to be beneficial.) His breath is caught in his throat, a soft flush spreading over his cheeks as he guides the tip to his hole. He's almost painfully hard, beyond-excited from the copious amount of time he spent stretching beforehand.
The tip is just about to enter him, slick head pressing against the ring of muscle, nearly slipping through, when--
There's a nice, bouncy squelch as Mochi America slips under his bedroom door.
Unflinching blue eyes stare into his own, expectant. The dildo flops onto the floor.
Estonia, for some fucking reason, finds himself utterly embarrassed to have his cock out in front of a--an..what were mochis again?
But it was coming closer, its fat little body jiggling with each movement. The smile on its face was ever-present, almost eerie. Estonia felt a shiver go down his spine. There was a beat as they both stared at one another, one nervous, the other relentless.
"I Will...F*ck You?" The mochi's squeaking voice was devoid of any of its usual malice.
Estonia laughed out of sheer habit, a nervous titter escaping his throat.
Now, Estonia was (usually) unbothered by Mochi America's threats to fuck him, because, seriously, what's a rice ball going to do? It may have had godly strength and abilities (Estonia had felt the damage from them firsthand) but it wasn't like it had a cock hiding behind all that pudge. Right? Right.
But the mochi didn't usually have legs either. And it could grow them.
.
.
.
.
Fuck.
Estonia swallows anxiously, his throat suddenly dry.
The mochi wobbles closer. Estonia nervously brings his thighs together. He had put his glasses to the side in all his...excitement and couldn't see well enough to tell if there was any emotion on its face.
"I..Will....f...F*ck you?" it repeats.
Again, Estonia tries to think. With his head, of course. Now, logically speaking, did Mochi America even comprehend what it was saying? The true value of fucking? Do mochis breed? Estonia always though they always kind of...spawned into existence. Just like nations, heh. If they do breed, does that mean Estonia had a chance to get pregnant? T...that's a bit...er, anyways. Most importantly, did this mean Estonia had some sort of underlying attraction to America, because honestly that would just be--
While Estonia was busy weighing the pros and cons of fucking a weird little pastry thing, Mochi America came even closer. Narrowing the space between it and Estonia's hot, desperate loins.
It seemed to take Estonia's pensive silence for a yes.
Estonia's eyes are drawn to something vaguely phallic sliding out of the mochi's body. Oh no oh no oh God--
"Its Okey. Im American," it responds, before filling Estonia with its length in one smooth thrust.
He was already prepared from earlier; his bootyhole completely slick and ready on the inside. Even if the mochi had decided to be rough, (and thank God it hadn't), the slide-in would have been comfortable. Estonia was already aching for something to fill him anyways. Why not a warm, fleshy, riceball.
Estonia throws his head back, skull crashing awkwardly against the floor. Fuck that hurt, but he had no time to pay attention to it; Mochi America had already begun thrusting in and out, his legless body somehow defying the laws of physics and propelling itself without any stabilization. Its length filled Estonia up so nicely, burning just right, rubbing against his insides. It wasn't long before a few moans began to slip out of his mouth.
If the mochi had shoulders, then surely Estonia's legs would be perched on them right now. Instead, he had to simply settle for awkwardly resting his thighs around the mochi's fat little body.
The mochi begins to talk dirty to him, its squeaky voice turning the filthiest words into nonsense;
"You dirty Bitchass! You Slinking booty call!" it growls, thrusting even faster. It rocks Estonia's body, sliding roughly on his back as the riceball pounded away. Strangely enough, the words went straight to his cock, and Estonia felt himself twitch with each slur that came out of its mouth.
It was nearly too much--he was already hot and bothered from earlier, but the way Mochi America's weird onigiri dick pounded into his male g-spot was making him go absolutely feral. His hands clawed uselessly at the floor, his thighs trembling. He was so, so, close. His own excitement gathered in droplets on the smooth skin of his stomach, while the mochi's own strange fluid covered his entrance.
Estonia writhes in pleasure, nerves set on fire by Mochi America's ministrations. His mind was so fogged with lust he could hardly comprehend that he was engaging in something that was, if not outright bestiality, probably some niche fetish. The pressure building in his loins was nearly unbearable, unlike anything he'd ever felt, unlike any man or woman or nation he ever been with.
When you realize that the best dick you've ever gotten was from a riceball, perhaps death is the best option.
Estonia cums with what feels like Earth-shuttering force, letting out a moan so feral it might have been a scream. His asshole clenches around the mochi's cawk. Exacerbating the pleasure for the both of them. The mochi seems to feel the severity of Estonia's orgasm and thrusts even harder, deeper, squishy body slapping against Estonia's thighs.
The mochi does one final, deep, body-rattling thrust into his anal cavity. Estonia's vision goes white. But it does not stop there. The mochi seemed to be giving more and more of itself, sliding further and further in. Estonia chokes, panicked. Even in the hazy aftermath of his orgasm his sluggish limbs were flailing, half-hearted words of dissuasion forming in his throat. The mochi does not listen to him. It never listened to him.
There is naught but silence as Estonia assvores an entire riceball, his ravished bootyhole nearly bursting. But still, it would be fine. He is American, after all.