Sexual Tension: England x Reader

WARNING: I swear in this. Get over it, the whole world swears all the time. As I once made an Italian say, “Swearing is good for the soul.”


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“Ignorant fool!”

“Prissy aristocrat!”

“Filthy bitch!”

“Black sheep!”

“Anime freak!”

“I take that as a compliment, stuck up bastard!”

“At least I’m civilized, arse!”

“Well, your language begs to differ!”

“Guys, guys, calm down and listen to the hero’s awesome plan!” America interrupted you and England’s bickering.

But both of you turned to him in a rage and yelled, “FAT ASS!” which effectively sent him away to sulk.

I guess all of you must have been pretty boring, and with you taking care of fighting with England, France was dozing off before you screamed. He groggily opened his eyes, calling out, “I disagree with all of you.”

“SHUT IT, FROG!” you and England yelled again, only making you more mad at each other. In fact, you were so pissed you turned to him again, hollering, “STOP DOING THAT!” But of course he joined in on that exclamation too, and now you were livid.

Shrugging off your jacket, you threw it at Feli. You decided to call him that since you had actually met Romano first, and it just got confusing. “That’s my favorite jacket, Feli. Keep it safe.” You stood, now just in a camisole you didn’t care about.

“What are you going to do? Fight me?” England sneered, before you threw a punch at him that he ducked in surprise. “What the hell?” his green eyes widened, while your (e/c) ones just narrowed.

You glared at him, actually wanting to kill him, “What the hell do you think?”

“I think you’re crazy!” England yelled, dodging once more.

You laughed in his face, “Oh, I’m the crazy one? You’re the one that believes in magic and flying rodents!” That made him mad, and he actually threw a punch right back at you. “‘Bout time you got some balls, black sheep.” you said, catching his fist in mid air while he looked back at you, impressed with your strength.

“Angleterre!” France started to scold England, “You’re a gentleman, n’est-ce pas? How could you try to hit a lady?”

England winced as you started to crush his hand in your own. “That thing,” he spat, “might be female, but it is no lady.”

You scoffed, “And you call yourself a gentleman? You’re just a bitter, rude, old man!” Taking your other hand you grabbed his arm and flipped him over, making him land on the floor with a thud. “And I can still take you.” you said, stepping down on his back as he tried to get up.

“But I can always bounce right back.” he said, taking advantage and grabbing your boot. Giving your leg a hard yank you fell to the floor beside him, and he had you pinned. Not that you weren’t still fighting, but when angered he was strong.

France was smiling down on you two, however, and said, “Will you two stop releasing sexual tension so we can talk?”

“God!” you exclaimed, “Why is everything about sex with you?!” Your anger was now directed at France, but England had just realized the position the two of you were in.

A blush spread across his face as he tried to get off from straddling you, and he tried desperately to not look at your now slightly torn tank top, with one strap hanging off your shoulder. When you saw the blush on his face, a look of confusion crossed yours, before you realized what had happened. Luckily, most of the countries were unable to see the two of you, and Feliciano was on the other side of the table. England sat on the ground, still in disbelief, while you stuck a hand up and called, “Feli! My jacket!”

“Si, bella!” Feli said, the jacket smacking into your hand. You slipped it over your shoulders, and smoothed your hair back. You got back into your seat, and acted like nothing happened.

In reality, all the countries had been wondering when you would snap. It was obvious you and England despised each other, and you weren’t the type to let those sorts of insults go easily. But you two had obviously gotten something out of your system, because now you sat quietly.

But England’s mind was racing.

Was France right? Wait, no, France is never right! I would never like _____ in that way! She’s so-so- perfect... Feisty, bold, but also sweet and kind... Stop that! You know she hates you!

Then what’s the harm in thinking about it?

Of course, you were reeling as well.

Does England like me? No! Of course he doesn’t! He hates me as much as I hate him! But... do I really hate him? Yes, he’s mean, bitter, grumpy, interesting, kindhearted, deep, sexy... And, oh lord, that accent... I could die... Stop that!

But why was he blushing after he pinned me? Why would he even think of me like that? Was it France? Yeah, he was probably just flustered by France...

You were snapped out of your thoughts by France getting up as one of the last to leave the room. He said, “Au revoir, lovebirds~” And it made you cringe. Then you looked up. You were alone with England.

About to get up and leave, England caught your sleeve, not catching your eye. He inquired quietly, “_____, why do you hate me?”

You stared down at him. Sure, sometimes he pissed you off, but it was mostly that he was so alone and wouldn’t let anyone in his life. Just because you’ve been hurt in the past doesn’t mean you can push everyone else away forever! If you hadn’t started off on the wrong foot (which neither of you could even remember anymore), you probably would have been close with the old sod. His history was fascinating to you, and you despised all the same people. So you stared back at the man, revealing such hurt in those green eyes that refused to meet your gaze. “I don’t.” you told him. It was the truth. You really didn’t hate him, but you know how feuds escalate, right?

“What are you talking abou-” he started to ask, but something came over you. Stopping him mid sentence, you smashed your lips down on his, threading your fingers in his hair and earning a small grunt of surprise that made you smirk.

You broke away, and straightened back up. “I said, I don’t hate you. I never really have. You irk me, but nothing more than that.”

There was a little lopsided grin on his face, “What just happened?” England looked like a child expecting to go to get his dog euthanized, who just found out instead he was going to Disneyland. After expecting something horrible, he almost couldn’t believe that something so amazing had happened.

Fortunately for him, you had no trouble reminding him. You leaned down again, and whispered, “This.” You kissed again him, softly this time, but squeaked as he gained control and pulled you into his lap.

After a while, the two of you broke apart and stood. England blushed a little and turned those deep green eyes away from you, but you promptly turned his face towards you. “What’s up?” you asked, staring into those endless orbs with your own (e/c) ones.

“Well, I was kind of wondering if you might like to join me for tea now?” he said, rushing through it.

You grinned, and laced your fingers with his. “That sounds lovely.” The two of you exited the world meeting with an entirely new light on things.


~Extended Ending brought to you on the wings of the flying mint bunny~

“Lemme see those binoculars!” America whined as France stared out the window of the McDonald’s. I swear, those things pop up everywhere America goes! It’s like a damn plague...

He adjusted the focus then chuckled, “Ohonhonhonhon~ It looks like a certain American owes me some money!”

“What?!” America said, finally snatching the binoculars, “Damn, how did you know?” He zoomed in on England and _____ leaving the meeting, hand in hand.

France just got a pervy look on his face, “Silly American, the French know everything about love!”