Tea and Wine (A Fem!FrUk LEMON)

I'm finally getting a grip on Yuri fanfictions; they're so fun to write. Enjoy!

"Bleh!" Francine groaned. "These scones taste like cardboard!" Alice looked at her French friend, offended by her statement. Sure, her cooking wasn't the best, but she took pride in her mother's recipe for scones. Francine, for one, wasn't pleased with what her English friend had served that afternoon for 4 o'clock tea. Alice sighed and shook her head.

"Do you seriously think my food is bland?" she asked.

"Oui! It is tasteless!" Francine said. "I don't even want more tea. If you don't mind, I'd like some of my wine, thank you."

Alice watched as her friend pulled out a crystal-clear wine glass and a bottle of rosé, pouring it slowly into her glass after popping the cork off. She sipped the fruity liquid and moaned with satisfaction.

"Un verre de vin est toujour bon," she said in her tongue, taking another sip as she looked at Alice. "Would you like some?"

"No, I'd rather not," Alice said, acknowledging her difficulty with handling alcoholic beverages. Francine stared at her, crossing one leg over the other as she evened out her skirt.

"You got so tipsy with Amelia last week. You were sick for two days," Francine said. "I was lucky."

"You're used to your wine, wanker," Alice retorted. Francine raised her eyebrow in shock.

"You seriously need more drink," the Frenchwoman suggested, walking over to her with a strut. Alice looked at her and blushed violently. 

The young British woman looked at Francine; she was indeed a very beautiful woman, but she was also somewhat pretentious and overly sexual. Her soft light brown hair was in a simple ponytail adorned with a small gold tiara, and she wore a light pink skirt with a white dress shirt and teal blazer. Her eyes were pure amethyst and sparkled seductively to enchant anybody who looked at her. Francine sipped her wine again, and Alice turned around to grab a scone from the silver dish on the rolling cart. 

Just when Alice was about to grab one, she felt a hand squeeze one of her breasts. She jerked up and looked behind her, seeing Francine with a look of delight on her face as she began fondling both of them at the same time from behind. Alice tried to make her stop, but doing so would just be inevitable.

"Francine! Stop! What the bloody hell are you doing?" she asked in a shriek. Francine stopped and turned Alice around to face her; with that, she crashed her lips onto hers, seducing the young Englishwoman instantly.

The way Francine kissed was like none other. It was intimidating, but at the same time it was gentle and loving. Alice started kissing her back, closing her eyes as she felt her apron and baby blue dress slip off her body. Francine wrapped her legs around her waist and carried her to Alice's bedroom nearest the living room.

With her rear facing the lust-filled Frenchwoman, she anticipated her touch, but looked back and noticed her taking off her clothes, stripping off her undergarments before she began running her palms over Alice's bottom.

"Your derrière is so nice," she said, leaning down to remove her underpants slowly. She went closer and started licking her womanhood from behind, stroking the slick folds as her tongue made it even wetter.

"Ah! Bloody hell! Francine! What are you doing?" Alice asked with frustration. Deep down, she enjoyed the feeling of her friends warm breath on her femininity. Francis turned her over on her back and began kissing her, putting Alice's hands on her full, bare breasts. The young British woman blushed, but realized that they felt great in her hands as she cupped and fondled them.

"Oui," Francine sighed gently as she kneeled, letting her friend caress and suck on her breasts.

"You are...beautiful," Alice said, marveling at the Frenchwoman's beautiful curves. She ran her hands slowly over her narrow waist and shapely hips, leaning forward to kiss the soft skin of her breasts. Francine ran her hands through each of Alice's blonde pigtails as her nose trailed gently across her skin with her lips making suction over her nipples.

"Ah," the Frenchwoman moaned with pleasure, holding Alice's head gently as her lips traveled across her beautiful, flawless skin. She arched her neck back, prompting Alice to kiss her neck before stopping at her lips. Their kiss led to Francine being tossed on her back, being kissed by the Englishwoman as her hands caressed her breasts gently. 

Alice worshipped Francine's beauty, trailing her nose down her neck and chest to leave a trail of kisses on her abdomen before stroking her soaking wet femininity with two fingers. The Frenchwoman opened her legs a bit to give her easier leeway, letting her use her tongue to please her.

"Honhon~" Francine giggled as she felt Alice's tongue trace designs on her. She gripped the bed sheets tightly when Alice began sucking on her clit gently, arching her back impulsively.

"Alice!" she moaned loudly. She gasped upon feeling her tongue enter her, and she threw her head back, entwining her fingers where Alice's hands rested on the sides of her hips. Francine savored the feeling and giggled playfully as she felt her tongue go inside of her with a finger to accompany it. Alice's tongue flicked Francine's clit wildly, and the Frenchwoman gasped and panted from the pleasure. She had done this many times with men and women alike, but there was something about the way Alice pleasured her that made her go crazy.

 

"Ah! Alice! I'm going to come!" she shouted.

 

Alice licked her clean upon her release, and savored every bit of her natural taste. Francine's back and neck were arched against the space between she and the young Englishwoman, and she let out short moans of delight as the girl's lips made their way back up her body to kiss her. Their tongue met in a small game of dominance, which ended with Francine winning and making Alice go on all fours. Her panties were already off, and as she blushed, the Frenchwoman rubbed her buttocks as she licked at the hole between them. Alice's eyes widened in shock.

 

"Ah! Not there! Stop!" she begged.

 

"Non," her friend said. "This is always fun. Honhonhon~"

 

Alice didn't particularly like the idea of having her ass licked, but it somehow made her moan. Francine's hands fondled her cheeks as she licked deeper. Alice looked back at her and placed her hand just above her rear end, and when Francine stopped licking to playfully bite at her butt, Alice couldn't help but laugh a little bit.

 

Francine's tongue moved back to her ass, but then went to lick her moist womanhood, spreading the lips apart to access her clit and suck on it gently. The Englishwoman sighed with pleasure. She knew it felt much better than having her ass licked.

 

"Feel good, oui?" Francine asked. Alice moaned.

 

"Stick a finger in me," she begged with a sigh.

 

Without question, she slowly inserted one of her perfectly-manicured fingers inside of her, and as she moved it in and out, her tongue went up and licked her ass again, making Alice's arch back at the sudden speed of her tongue.

 

"Ah! Francine! Stop!" she begged.

 

"Non, this part is always fun," she answered, continuing to lick her behind ravenously. Her finger went faster inside of Alice, and within a few minutes, the young Englishwoman was on the verge of climax.

 

"Ah! Stop!" she begged.

 

With that, Alice got on her back with Francine on top of her, kissing her as her finger reentered Alice. Another finger stroked her clit with enough pressure to cause her release. Once she felt a smooth liquid pour on her fingers, Francine raised them to her mouth and licked them clean, giving one of her fingers to Alice so she could taste her own natural flavor.

 

"Mmm," Alice moaned as she gently licked and sucked the Frenchwoman's finger.

 

"Bon," Francine cooed with a giggle. "Honhon~"

 

Suddenly, Francine pulled out a blue plastic dildo that was rather large in size, but it was not a strap-on. Francine licked it gently, getting it nice and wet for ease of entry in Alice. She leaned down and sucked and licked the Englishwoman's breasts as she put the dildo into her.

 

"Agh," Alice moaned, letting her body adjust to its size. "It's so big."

 

"I know. That's why I got it," she said, continuing to suck on her breasts as she put the dildo in and out of Alice. With every passing second, Alice's moans grew louder as she ran her fingers through Francine's light brown ponytail.

 

"H-harder," she begged with a sigh. Francine smiled against her skin and went so hard that the dildo hit the sweet spot inside of Alice. She arched her back, jerking her head back with pleasure.

 

"Ah! Francine!" she shouted.

 

"What is it? Should I go...faster?" With that being said, she moved it really fast in and out of her.

 

"Ah! Stop!" Alice pleaded, a look of ecstasy on her face.

 

"Non, I love the look on your face." The Frenchwoman began to touch herself as she moved it as fast and hard as she could. It did not take long for Alice's to climax.

 

"AH!" Alice shouted once last time until coming all over the dildo. Francine laughed.

 

"Honhonhon~" she said, taking it out to lick it clean. She placed it on the bedside table and held Alice close, whispering in her ear.

 

"C’était amusant. We should try again some time," Francine said. Alice looked up into her eyes and kissed her.

 

"I...I love you," she told her. Francine planted a soft kiss on her friend's neck and smiled.

 

"J'taime," she replied.

Until We Meet Again (A France + Jeanne LEMON)

Notice: Your feels may explode, for this is probably the saddest pairing in all of Hetalia. Enjoy, here's hoping you don't cry TOO much!!!

"Non! Pardon! Don't hurt me! Please!!" Jeanne pleaded, on her knees in front of the fully-clad guards in metal armor. One of them chuckled in a cruel fashion as tears began streaming down Jeanne's face. She had just been thrown into prison, waiting indefinitely for her ultimate fate. She had been stripped of her body armor and the men's clothing she wore in order to dupe the French troops that she was a man who would lead them to battle, and was dressed in woman's clothing for the first time in quite some while. Leading the French to war was one of Jeanne's major accomplishments, but being a woman, she had rely on the voice of God to help her do what she wanted most; when she led the French, it was a significant victory that most thought only a man could achieve. 

"You think you can just deceive people just because God told you to! I seriously doubt God would lead someone to turn to heresy," the guard said, withdrawing his sword and pointing it to her chin. "After all, God made womankind from a rib. A single rib."

"Je suis innocent! I never wanted to go against conformity! Please! Believe me!" Jeanne pleaded, tears falling as she begged on her knees as if she were in church. Her eyes looked so pleading, but they didn't convince the guards.

"You do not charm me," the guard said, lifting her chin higher with the tip of the sword's blade. "I still have yet to tell you your sentence; death. At stake. Burning."

"Non! Ne me tu pas!" Jeanne pleaded. "I'll do anything, Monsieur! Please! Have mercy!"

"Your sentence was already declared by His Majesty," the other guard said. "Unfortunately he is a stubborn man. He hates heretics."

The men turned to leave, locking her in her cell as she cried and sobbed. He prayed inside her head for the well-being of Francis, her one true love she had been unexpectedly torn away from. If she knew she was going to die, her only wish was for Francis to go on without her despite its difficulty.

She had known Francis since she was a child, their first meeting being the time she saw saints' spirits before her eyes in an open meadow. As she called out her claims during the run back to her peasant village, Francis' attention was caught, intrigued by what she saw. From that moment forth they became very good friends who forged a companionship that gradually grew closer to the point of love. Before Jeanne lead the French into battle, Francis confessed his deep love for her, mostly grown out of respect for her and her strength. Jeanne, at first, had no clue what to say, but later realized that she loved him as well. 

Now, she was very worried; she wanted to marry Francis, but now that she was imprisoned and condemned to death, that wasn't going to happen. Now, all she could do was pray for Francis' well-being, or at least for her soul to ascend to heaven as she believed it destined to.

After quite some time, the sun set. After the approach of nightfall, Jeanne was wide awake, sitting on the straw cot below the barred prison cell window. Her hands were clasped together as she thought about God; why had he sent her on a mission only to get punished for it? Did he prize her so much that he wanted her to be with him in heaven for all eternity?

Perhaps it is fate, better so, she thought silently.

The sound of her prison cell door unlocking caught her attention quickly, causing her to look up with curiosity. He looked like a guard, and it scared and apprehended her. She got up from the straw cot and took a step back, feeling her heart race with fear.

"Jeanne?" the man asked. "I have come for you." Now, fear had taken up her heart and her mind. 

"Non! Please say it isn't so! It is not morning!" Jeanne shouted. 

"Il n'es pas," the man said. Jeanne collapsed on the stone floor, sobbing heavily as she spoke frantically and morosely.

"Not the stake! Not the stake! Not the stake!" she repeated.

The man knelt next to her and patted her back gently, trying to console her. Jeanne had a strange feeling about him, as if she had known him before. Then his voice became familiar.

"I have not come to kill you, mon amour," the guard said. Jeanne gasped, looking up at the helmeted guard who took it off to show her his true identity. She gasped at the sight of Francis; he had disguised himself as a guard just to see Jeanne with the possibility of being with her on her final night alive. From his long blond hair to his dreamy blue eyes, she was so happy to see him.

"Francis!" she cried joyfully, throwing her arms around him. "How did you--"

"I just came in here, mon cherie," the sensual Frenchman said, taking his metal gauntlet off to caress her face. "I needed to see you." He sighed sadly, looking away with his eyes closed. "I heard that you were sentenced."

"Oui," Jeanne answered morosely. He caressed her face again with a single, gentle stroke that sent chills throughout her body. Nobody was like Francis, and if it were moral, she would give herself wholly to him right there in her prison cell. He looked at her, studying her stern, delicate face, her blue eyes and her short, unevenly-cut blonde hair. He leaned in and kissed her passionately.

Jeanne threw her arms around him, returning his kiss wholeheartedly as the tip of his tongue brushed her lower lip. He anticipated making love to her, but in order to find out if it was the right thing to do, he broke the kiss and looked into her eyes.

"Jeanne, mon amour," he began with a whisper.

"Oui, François?" she asked, caressing his stubbly face gently as she exchanged glances with him.

"Je désire faire l'amour vous," he said. She smiled sadly, but thought about what he wanted. How could they pleasure each other in a prison cell when guards could be hearing them through the door? He leaned and whispered.

"Je te veux," Francis whispered suggestively, removing his plate armor slowly so no strange noises could be heard from outside the door. Jeanne watched him, and when he crashed his lips into hers, she kissed him with all her being.

Her arms rested on his shoulders as he moved lower to gently suck on her neck. She dipped her head back slowly, Francis' fingers undoing the front laces of her ragged garment. Jeanne blushed, breaking the kiss as she let him go to see what he was going to do.

"You are akin to God," she said. "You are the savior to my purity." With that being said, Jeanne removed her garment and let the light fabric fall off her shoulders, exposing her breasts to the man she loved. Francis was emotionally touched by her words, also her gesture, and he immediately clutched Jeanne's waist to kiss the soft skin of her bosom. 

"Ah," she moaned softly, placing her hands on his shoulders as he continued to make love to her with kisses. His hands travelled up to cup them, his palms and fingers squeezing them gently. He ran his tongue over her nipples between soft sucking, making her feel a wave of foriegn, once-sinful emotions.

"Oh," she moaned. Francis continued at her breasts for another few long moments before his lips met with hers in a tender, passionate kiss. He removed and discarded his shirt, allowing Jeanne to caress his perfect male form.

"Tu est beau," she told him. He smirked, kissing her once more before making her lie down, her back against the cool stone floor of the cell. She didn't care if a few chills ran through her body, for she knew it would help her cool down during the heat of pleasure.

Francis leaned forward and kissed Jeanne again, trailing his nose down her neck, breasts, and stomach until he reached her swollen, moist femininity. Jeanne blushed a shade of bright red, but Francis, noticing this, caressed her cheek to reassure her that she would be alright and protected in his arms.

"Don't worry," he said, his fingers starting to stroke her. She arched her back quickly and moaned. She caught herself expressing delight too loudly, managing to stifle the sound in order to not draw attention to her prison cell. His fingers traced her slick folds gently, reaching a whole new level of pleasure for Jeanne when he stroked a certain area.

"Ah! Nh...Francis," she groaned. "It is...trés bien."

"Hmm," Francis cooed, unbuckling his belt with his free hand to release his hard member. He stroked it a bit as his inserted a finger inside of her to see if she was ready for his entry.

"Je ne peux pas prendre plus. I need you now, Francis," Jeanne whined pleadingly. "Dear Lord in heaven, forgive me."

"You will have me," he said, lining his member to the beginning of her entrance. "Are you ready?"

She nodded, and as he entered her, she arched suddenly against him and dug her nails into his sculpted back. She whimpered, tears running down her face as she felt herself being torn. Francis thrusted a few more times, and she nearly screamed. He took the liberty to shut her up with passionate kissing. She closed her eyes, tears continuing to streak down her face as she felt her virginity being taken.

"Are you alright?" he asked, kissing the corner of her left eye. The pain was no longer there, which influenced her to nod.

"Oui," she told him. "You may move inside of me."

Taking her words, he put them into action as he held both of her hips, pushing in and out of her slowly. With each thrust, Jeanne moaned and arched under him, feeling his wispy chest hairs tickle her breasts gently. She reached up and placed her arms around his neck, holding him closer as she pleaded for more.

"Il se sent bon," she sighed, starting to whine. "Harder."

"Oh Jeanne, j'taime," Francis said, leaning down to kiss her lips passionately as the fire in his loins roared ferociously. The power of his thrusts intensified, sending her to an imaginary land of paradise. It wasn't quite like Heaven, for she had seen it before in visions. This was better than Heaven--it was simply too complex and good to describe. 

"Ah! Francis!" she moaned, paying no consideration to her loudness. Nobody was around, and the neighboring prisoners were in deep sleeps in their own cells. She felt her nails scratch his back as he went faster inside of her, but he didn't mind as long as he wasn't hurting her. In fact, he liked that she let out her inner warrioress during their lovemaking. It only prompted him to delve deeper into her liquid heat, hitting a certain spot repeatedly that made her pant for air and moan as she was engulfed with sexual bliss.

"Ah! Francis! It's so good!" Jeanne shouted, feeling as though she were about to climax at any minute.

"Jeanne! Mon amour, I'm going to...cum," he told her.

"I'll cherish it forever. This moment is precious, and for all eternity in Heaven, I'll remember you," she said, crying just before she felt a warm fluid fill her. He kissed her once more, pulling out and laying besides her, caressing her nudity with his fingers. Her skin felt warm and she seemed to glow brighter than the full moon shining through the prison window.  Francis looked down at her, and kissed her, holding her tightly.

"Je ne veux pas vous laisser aller," he whispered. "I will never forget you, mon amour."

"Please do not leave me," Jeanne told him. "I am to die tomorrow, but I am happy to have spent my last night with you." He looked down at her, her eyes shining up at him with pride and bravery.

"Until we meet again," Francis began, "I will never stop thinking of you. J'taime."

Twilight in Paris (A France Lemon--Hetalia)

Ah, a twilight in Paris, the city of lights, was everything I hoped it would be. As I sat on the balcony in a tan wicker woven chair with cream white seat cushions holding a glass of red wine in my hand, the Eiffel Tower seemed so far away from me, lights glowing to outline its majestic shape as dusk grew darker. The Arc de Troimphe stood closer to the hotel I stayed in during me and my boyfriend's vacation in his home country.

I had been in a relationship with a Frenchman named Francis (I know, his name is a coincidence), and he was the greatest guy I had ever met. He was romantic to the core--he took me out on dates to only the finest restaurants and clubs, showered me with beautiful and expensive gifts, and he was just an all-around gentlemen. The thing I loved most about him was that whenever there was a rose bush around, he'd always take a moment to carefully pluck the best one and give it me while saying something so romantic my head would be stuck in the clouds for the rest of the day. In bed, he was amazing--he made love to me with an immeasurable amount of ardor every time and it was never boring. I had been to France with him twice since we had begun dating two years before. Though at times he was possessive and somewhat controlling, I still loved him very much--he was my everything, and it was pretty evident that he'd be nothing without me.

"I think you should be coming to bed now, mon cherie," I heard Francis say from inside our suite. I stood up from my hair and sipped my glass of red wine before walking inside and shutting the glass doors leading to the balcony. I turned around and Francis under the clean white cotton sheets, staring at me lustfully.

"Hey, Francis," I said. He continued looking at me with the look that told me that he was burning for me. I walked over to the bed and sat down. Hearing the sound of ruffling sheets, I felt his presence grow closer with each second passing, and before I knew it, the sensation of his breath on my neck sent chills throughout my body. I arched my neck back briefly, aware that he was going to seduce me, but then I looked into his great blue eyes.

"Je veux que vous adorez," he whispered softly. I sighed; I fell in love with him over and over again whenever he spoke French in that tone of voice. It was just then that I noticed he was not wearing any clothes under the sheets--looking down, I could see his bulge through the linen.

"Are you wearing clothes, Francis?" I asked him. I knew the answer; I just wanted to know what he'd say.

"No," he answered nonchalantly. "Let's make love, mon cherie. I am so in the mood for passionate love."

His tone grew more fervent and I could not resist his charm. Looking into his eyes, I unbuttoned my mint green blouse and threw it on the chair that was close to the bed but in the corner. Then I removed my pencil skirt and black leather pumps and threw those in the same area where my blouse was. My bra, panties, and stockings were all I was wearing; I didn't blush or cower--we had done this several times before.

I kneeled on the bed and held Francis' face in my hands, kissing him tenderly. His passion grew by the minute, and he kneeled in front of me, placing his hands on my waist. I felt them go up to undo the clasp on my bra as his lips sucked and nibbled at my neck. My back arched once my breasts were exposed, allowing him to freely kiss and caress me.

Francis' lips wandered slowly around my bare bosom, lightly kissing my fullness before he started sucking on my nipples. It felt wonderful--it always had. I guess Francis really loved my breasts. They were not too big but not too small and until he and I had made love for the first time quite some time before, I was so insecure about that part of my body.

"Francis," I moaned as he continued worshipping my bosom. Now, he was caressing and fondling them as he flicked his tongue rapidly over my nipples. I kept on moaning his name, but I was so caught up in the ecstasy of the moment that I had no idea what to say.

He continued moving lower on my body, so I laid on my back to give him more freedom to explore. He seemed to know my body well; it drove me absolutely insane when he kissed my hips. I moaned, and I felt myself get wetter as he continued.

He took off my underpants and threw them aside, beginning to kiss my thighs gently. I smiled devilishly as he moved lower to my knees, shins, ankles, and when he got to my feet. I began to wonder why he had all of a sudden started sucking my toes.

He had never done this before, so this was definitely new and unusual. It felt strange (even though my stockings were still on), but it was erotic in a way. I cringed as I watched him, and when he stopped, he stared into my eyes.

"Is there something wrong, amour?" He asked me. I cocked an eyebrow up in confusion.

"Why did you just do that?" I questioned. He smiled at me with unbridled lust in his eyes.

"When I say I want to worship you, I worship every part of you. Not just the usual, mon cherie," Francis told me. I watched him situate himself between my legs, and when I felt his warm breath on my womanhood, I became more aroused than I had been. He traced his tongue around my folds, lapping up my natural taste and juices. I moaned and sighed uncontrollably. I felt his index finger rub my clit gently, and then the inserted his finger inside me, placing his tongue on my clit. After moving his index finger in and out of me, his middle finger joined in and both fingers rubbed my g-spot gently.It was like dying and going to heaven; it felt amazing.

"Francis! Oh my! Stop torturing me!!! I need it now! Please give it to me, Francis!!" I screamed, holding my breasts as my back arched and my hips moved wildly out of control. He seemed to ignore me; I felt his middle finger go up further inside of me. It felt odd but I assumed he was touching my cervix. This also was something new and unusual; he had never gone that far up inside me before. It was so pleasurable that I grabbed a pillow and screamed in it.

"FRANCIS!!! PLEASE!! I need it so BAD!!" Those were the words I screamed into the fluffy white pillow before Francis stopped pleasing me and pulled the pillow away from me, kissing me with intense ardor as he entered me. I arched my neck back and sighed gently as he thrust in and out at a regular pace.

"Oh, Francis," I sighed, my passion's flame growing calmer. He leaned down and kissed my neck and breasts softly as his thrusts intensified.

"Lac de votre corps est le seul que je pourrais jamais noyer po," Francis said with ferocious passion as his pace increased. "Je voudrais mourir en vous aimant!"

I was at the peak of my arousal; once he began speaking French, I lost it. Within minutes we reached our climax, and when he pulled out, I laid on the bed, breathing heavily as my arms were spread out. Francis was suddenly gone, but came back holding something in his hand. I say up, taking a deep breath, and he did as well.

"Hold out your hand," he said with his beautiful-sounding accent. I did so, and in my hand fell a gold diamond solitaire ring. My eyes lit up; I was so surprised because Francis did not seem like the marrying type when we had first met. I looked up and smiled. Tears formed in my eyes as I listened to what he had to say.

"Mon amour, I love you more than Romeo loved Juliet, and though I hope our love is not tragic, please say that you will marry me?" Francis said sweetly.

I nodded rapidly and impulsively. He was such a great boyfriend--I was confident he'd make a wonderful husband. I jumped into his arms excitedly, kissing him.

"Yes!! I will!! I love you so very much, Francis!" I told him.

And that is how I spent the night where I saw my first Parisian twilight...