Y/n: Hey I’m about to get in the shower. You wanna join me?
Tangerine: There’s a pistol taped underneath the island in the kitchen. If I ever say no to that question, I want you to shoot me. Aim for the head, don’t stop until I’m dead.
Summary: When your best friend has said, "—in ten years if we're both single, I'll gladly marry you." You didn't think his words had any weight. Turns out, they did.
Genre: Angsty hurt and comfort
Warnings: if canonTangerine can jump onto a moving bullet train, fanon Tangerine can jump from a train as well, violence, guns, swearing, best friends to lovers, Tan and Lem have real names but they aren't mentioned (apart from the first letter ;)).
~ inspired by @little-miss-dilf-lover <3 ~
TANGERINE MASTERLIST
The party is loud and you're not quite sure how your friends have managed to convince you to come, especially on exam week, but here you are—sweaty, slightly drunk, and also starving?
"Oh, look, it's that guy you like!" Your friend, Allie, exclaims as she points through the swarm of students. She's drunker than you, her words horribly slurred.
You look where she's pointing and see the boy who sits behind you in your Biology class. The one that always looks bored and uninterested and still somehow always has a higher score than you do. It would annoy you if he didn't intrigue you so much.
"His friend is cute," Allie says, seemingly interested in the boy's friend; the slightly taller boy with the lopsided baseball cap and football jersey. You aren't surprised Allie likes him. His smile could light up any room.
"C'mon, I want his number—" she tugs your arm, practically stumbling over with you close behind.
You know the drink you're nursing is kicking in because you're not nearly as nervous as you should be standing in front of this boy now. His chestnut curls fall across his forehead as he looks at you, his blue eyes so sharp you can almost feel them cut through you. His expression doesn't shift.
"Hi," you say, watching as Allie and his friend fall into easy conversation beside you. Their voices are drowned out by the music but you can see them laughing as Allie touches his arm. You glance up at the boy from your class—you can't seem to remember his name. Tyler? Theo? Thomas? Something with a T—
"Hey," he says, a question in his voice as he tilts his head and studies you. "Do I know you?"
Embarrassment creeps up your cheeks. "Oh, we're in the same class. Bio? With Professor Cooper?"
Recognition passes across the boy's features but he doesn't mention it. He simply nods, looking away. "Ah," he looks down at you again after a moment, "And what do you want?"
Any sensible person would have fled this conversation immediately, but you're too stubborn and drunk to heed the warnings. You excuse his snappiness because the loud music is annoying you as well. "Do you want to go somewhere quieter?" you ask, chewing your lip.
You couldn't possibly handle rejection.
He is silent for a moment, simply staring at you, but he nods and lets you lead him across the party and towards the fire escape. The fresh air feels nice on your skin as you climb, the cool metal from the fire escape pressing against your thighs as you sit on the edge. The boy joins you, sitting in silence for a moment. It isn't awkward, but you assume that's the alcohol.
You shiver, breathing out into the cold air.
"Here," he interrupts, handing you his worn-out leather jacket. He doesn't smile, but the gesture is enough to show his kindness and you accept happily, slipping your arms into the velvet of the sleeves. You hum.
"Thank you."
"Don't mention it," he says, cracking his first smile of the night.
Turns out, he isn't as uninterested in you as he seemed. Conversation flows easier and he's surprisingly funny. The drinks you've had makes your cheeks burn and you're now ranting about your favorite fruits, as the boy, whom you still haven't asked his name, looks at you with round, confused eyes.
"You don't like them?!" you practically screech, leaning forward and the boy's arm stops you from falling over the fire escape but he doesn't mention it. Instead, he's staring at you with his eyebrows scrunched.
"No? I mean, aren't they just oranges? What's so special about them?"
You gasp, blinking at him as if he'd just said the most outrageous thing and a smirk curls his lips.
"Tangerine's are so delicious! They're much sweeter in taste than an Orange and in China, they also represent good fortune. They're my favorite out of the citrus family. And doesn't the name sound kinda sophisticated? T-an-ger-ine—" you spell out, turning and locking eyes with him. You're too tipsy to see the faint blush creeping up his cheeks but he clears his throat and looks away.
"I'll have to keep that in mind," he hums, looking out into the night sky with a small smile. A few moments pass until he feels a weight on his shoulder and his lips curl downwards. He tilts his head and when he sees your cheek resting on his shoulder, your chest rising and falling with light snores, he doesn't have the heart to move you.
You look so peaceful. So beautiful.
Instead, he pulls you in just a little closer and helps you become comfortable on his shoulder.
~ Around Ten Year Later ~
The rattling from the train wakes you up, your cheek hitting the glass and then you jolt your head up and you quickly wipe your hand across your mouth to eliminate any proof that you'd been drooling in your sleep. Your cheeks burn hot and you look around. Your eyebrows knit together. The compartment is empty. Weird. How long have you been asleep?
You stand, moving into the alley. You look up at the name of the next station and curse. You missed your fucking stop. You pinch your nose. At this point, you're gonna miss your business meeting and your boss might as well fire you.
You sit down again, holding your head in your hand. "Fuck, fuck, fuck—" you groan and you startle when you hear the doors of the compartment slide open. Strong footsteps follow. You look up absentmindedly, your breath catching in your throat when you see someone you haven't seen in years. Instantly, you shoot up, catching the man's attention and he pauses.
Apart from the blue of his eyes, he looks different. His shoulders are slightly broader and he looks hardened by life. His boyish clean-shaven face is replaced by scars and wounds and a thick mustache that shouldn't work with his features as well as it does.
You're moving on autopilot as you walk away from your seat and into the aisle, looking him over. You must be mistaken. He's covered in blood. He's wearing a dark blue suit, although half of the suit is missing, and he is staring at you like he's just seen a ghost.
"T–" His name begins to fall from your mouth but he quickly interrupts you and walks over, gently pushing his hand over your mouth.
"Tangerine," he whispers, his voice hoarse and the familiarity causes a shiver up your spine.
"What?" you ask behind his hand, your body tense. Is this not—
Suddenly, there is a loud screeching and the train comes to a half. You gasp, falling forwards and onto Tangerine's chest.
He topples backwards, his large hand cupping the back of your head, keeping you still against him, as you fall on top of him. He grunts, his side colliding with the bottom of the seats.
You push on your arms, hovering over him. "Are you alright?" You exclaim, examining him for injuries that weren't already there.
"Just peachy," he grumbles sarcastically, running a hand in his hair. Tangerine sits up once you've scrambled off his lap and his gaze lands on you. He frowns, standing up and helping you up as well. He lowers his gaze to your left hand, his fingers skimming your ring finger and you hold your breath, looking up at him and then down to his left hand.
No ring, you both think as the memory remains ingrained in both your minds.
It had been your twenty-second birthday, the one where your arsehole of an boyfriend had broken up with you and you'd found yourself in Tangerine's dorm, curled up against him on his bed as you cried into his shoulder. Since the party, you've grown into very close friends. He wasn't cold anymore, he was gentle and kind and utterly hopelessly in love with you—something he didn't want you to know.
"He's a twat," he spits, stroking your hair.
"I'll be forever alone, T!" You exclaim, not listening to him as you sit up and stare at him with wide teary eyes. What was said next differs from both your memories, but that proposal, the one he'd made of his own accord, remains clear—
"I'll tell ya what, if in ten years we're both single, I'll gladly marry you."
You'd laughed, unaware of the truth behind his words, and neither of you ever mentioned it again. Although, as the years passed and he distanced himself from you—his words lingered in your mind. You'd been sure he'd forgotten them, but judging by the look on his face now—he must not have.
You pull your hand away and clear your throat, pulling you both from the memory. You're about to ask why he's here and covered in blood but the sound of gunshots interrupts your plan.
Tangerine pushes you behind him, pulling out his revolver from his suit pants and checking the chamber. He curses and points his gun at the door. You grasp his arm and ask in a whisper. "What's happening? And why do you have a gun T—"
"Tangerine," he growls, anticipating your next word, looking at you through the corner of his eye.
"Why do you keep insisting I call you that? You hate—"
"I don't know who's around," he interrupts. There is another round of gunshots and you tighten your grip on his arm. "Now back up slowly."
You do as he says, sensing an authority he didn't possess ten years earlier. Once you pass the compartment doors, you feel the wind in your hair and look to the side. "T, why is there a hole in the train?!" You ask, watching as Tangerine jams the door with his gun. "Wait—don't you need that?" You squeak.
Tangerine looks at you, his gaze hard. "Do you trust me?" he asks sternly.
Your eyes widen even more as the train suddenly speeds up and you crash into the opposite wall.
What the fuck is happening?
Tangerine grips your arm and pulls you upright. "Do you trust me," he asks again, his voice strained.
You falter. "I- I don't know!"
"Well make up your mind, because we don't have much time!"
"What?" You gasp when he grabs your waist and pulls you into him, facing him. He walks closer to the hole and you push against him. "Are you crazy?" you hiss, "back up!"
"No," Tangerine looks directly into your eyes, his gaze hard. "Do you trust me?"
"Stop asking me that!"
He says your name and you pause. Something you can't decipher hangs in the air as you stare at him and before he can ask again, you nod hastily. "I trust you. Okay. I trust you."
You almost think you see a hint of a smile but then his hand tightens on your waist as the other pushes your face into the crook of his neck.
And then he jumps through the hole and from the moving train.
You feel like you can't breathe. For a moment, you're sure you've fallen onto the tracks and you're dead. Nothing hurts, not really, but your eyes are still screwed shut against Tangerine's shoulder. He smells like smoke and pinewood and you can feel his heartbeat against yours.
He's breathing.
You use your hand and lift yourself. Tangerine's hand falls to his side as he grunts. You realize you're sitting on him. "Fuck," you say and try shifting off him. He only groans more and steadies your hips. You pause, looking down at him; he's bleeding from his shoulder and his hair is damp with blood.
If he didn't already look like shit, he sure does now.
"Gentle," he coughs, opening one eye. "M-my ribs."
Your blood runs cold and you jump up, not listening to him. Tangerine groans. You look around. The platform is empty and the train has passed. You look at Tangerine and your voice comes out shaky when you say, "You jumped from a moving train! What the fuck is wrong with you?" You kneel down, assessing his injuries. He's hurt but he's still aware and breathing. You press a hand to his side and he hisses.
"Who the fuck are ya?" A familiar voice rings out and you hear the cocking of a gun. The metal presses against your head and you freeze. Slowly, you turn around and see his brother.
His name falls from your lips as he does the same with yours and his arm lowers.
"Lemon," Tangerine groans, managing to sit up. He coughs, blood dripping out of his mouth.
You turn around. "Lemon?" you narrow your gaze and point, "and Tangerine."
Lemon nods, putting his gun away as he kneels beside you. "Code names, so shh," he presses his index to his lips and grins. He turns his attention to Tangerine and cocks his head. "Now what happened to leaving the train normally, and where's the boy?"
You sit back on your heels, listening to them.
"They found me. Had a shit ton of guns and shit. And, my landing would have been much easier if I didn't have to cushion her fall," he looks at you but there is no real bite behind his words.
Your cheeks feel warm. "I didn't ask you to do that!"
"Would ya rather I left ya defenseless on a doomed train?"
Your head is spinning. You fell asleep for what? At most 30 minutes and all went to shit?
"T, she's clearly shaken up. Be nice."
"I am nice. I saved 'er life."
Lemon rolls his eyes and assesses his brother's injuries. You watch them, seeing how different and grown-up they look now. Still, they bicker in the same way as they did in Uni and you can't help but smile.
"Next time, we do this together, easy job or not, Lemon says as he helps Tangerine up. The latter leans against him for support and grumbles something in return. He doesn't look very pleased. You stand as well and call after them.
"Wait," you say and run up to them, "Can I come with you?"
Lemon pauses and looks over his shoulder. "It isn't safe for ya, sweetcheeks. 'Tis best if ya just hurry home now." You hear Tangerine whisper something that sounds like, "don't let her come," and your chest tightens. Still, you don't simply take the no.
"He needs a doctor," you argue.
"He's fine."
"Yeah. I'm fine."
"You both know I studied medicine in school. Please. If you won't take him to the hospital could you please let me look him over?" you plead, holding onto Lemon's sleeve. He pauses and looks down at his brother. Tangerine looks pale and more blood drips from his lips. You whisper Lemon's real name and he sighs.
Soon, you find yourself in a luxury hotel room, kneeling on the floor of the bathroom as you wipe Tangerine's wounds clean. He's leaning against the bathtub, his shirt abandoned on the tile as you apply some antiseptic to the wound on his temple.
He shifts and you shake your head, pushing on his shoulder to steady him. "Stay still," you command and press on the bandages gently, making sure the ice packs stay in place. Tangerine's sharp blue eyes are glued to you. He looks serious and stoic. However, there is also a glossy shield over them from the pain meds you'd given him. It would have been torture to leave him in the state he was in. And after all, it was your fault he'd gotten badly hurt.
"Why didn't you become a doctor? That's your dream, innit?" he blurts out suddenly, his words slurred.
You shake your head, smoothing a hand over the bandage. "It was. I guess I wasn't cut out for it—medical school kicked my arse."
"Bollocks," Tangerine says, narrowing his gaze as he lifts himself up to position himself better against the tub. "Ya were the best in your year at Uni. Everyone knew that. What happened?"
Your heart sinks as you press like cloth against another cut on his cheek. Biting the inside of your cheek, you whisper, "Drop it? Please." How can you tell him you'd just given up when things got hard? How could you tell him when he was your biggest supporter? How could you tell him all that without blaming him for leaving you?
Ten years with no contact. Not one response to your texts or calls. You'd gotten the message quickly enough.
You push back some of his curls, watching as his head falls back and his gaze remains on you. "I didn't think I would ever see you again," you say, changing the topic of discussion. Tangerine doesn't say anything for a moment until he sniffs.
"I've seen you," he starts and tilts his head. His voice becomes softer. "In my dreams."
You hold your breath, leaning back against your heels. "T—Tangerine," you whisper.
"You can say my name now," Tangerine exclaims, looking at you almost guiltily. "There is no one that could hurt us. Please, say my name."
You hold your breath before whispering his name. When you do, he shuts his eyes and makes a small sound. You frown, confused why you saying his name would cause this big of a reaction. You feel him reach over, holding your hand and your heart speeds up.
"You aren't married," he breathes out.
Your gaze snaps to him.
"Neither am I—" he adds, his thumb stroking over your skin.
"T—that was years ago—"
"And yet, you remember. You know exactly what I'm referring to because you remember."
There is truth in his words. Had you gone that long without thinking of him or that stupid proposal?
No.
You'd dated and did all you could to pretend that he hadn't said that and to pretend that he wouldn't show up out of the blue and marry you like he'd said.
And yet here he is, reminding you of his words.
"I never looked for someone. Not when I knew you were out there somewhere. It's always been you," he admits, his eyes still glossy and he's still breathing heavily like he's in pain. You want to believe him, you do, but realistically you know that it's the pain medication. He isn't thinking properly.
"That's sweet, T," you say and squeeze his hand. "Really sweet."
He frowns. "It's not supposed to be sweet. It's the truth. I love you."
You stand up, your mind is fuzzy. "Okay–I'm gonna call in your brother. He can take care of you from here—"
"Wait, l-love, it's the truth. I love you. I always have, please don't leave," he pleads but he's in too much pain to walk after you. All he can do is sit there as you slip from his grasp once more.
Outside, you run into Lemon as he walks over with two warm teas. "What's wrong?" he asks, frowning as he sees the look on your face. You shake your head, not bothering with a response, as you walk to the entrance to find your coat. Coming here was a mistake. This entire ordeal was a simple mistake. A trick of fate.
"Oi, wait." You hear just as you open the front door. You look over your shoulder and an envelope hangs in front of you. You look up, catching Lemon's intense stare, and you only receive a nod. Once outside, the cold air stings your skin as you walk away from the hotel. The city is busy and the lights shine bright over the darkness of the night. You squint, wasting no time in opening and reading the letter—
Y/n,
I know you will not understand why I need to leave. Or why I won’t respond to your calls or your texts. I can’t make you understand either. Not yet, not until I’ve figured things out for myself. It’s too dangerous for us now. I would rather never see you again than put you in harm's way.
I’m not even sure if I will ever send this to you. I don’t think I deserve it. Not after what I must do. But still I must tell you.
Do you remember what I told you? How I would marry you. You laughed and I know you did not believe me. I’m not sure if I will ever see you again anyways, not anymore, but if by luck it’s ten years later and I see you. Just know I’ll marry you in a heartbeat.
Because I love you.
I love you so much.
Yours forever,
T
Your hands tighten around the paper. You think back to the train—the gunshots—the codenames—the codename of your favorite fruit—the mention of a job—and nothing makes sense but the apparent danger you'd been in and one that the brothers' seemed familiar with.
He left you to protect you.
Tears sting at the corner of your eyes as you press the letter to your chest. You've stopped walking.
He loves you.
And you don't want to accept that you love him just the same.
But you can't help yourself as you run back to his apartment, his real name falling from your lips as your tears roll down your cheeks.
Hi i love your work! I was wondering if u could do a fic where tangerine x reader are running from enemies on a job and they end up making out to try and hide from the enemies because pda makes people uncomfortable? Like the comment black widow makes to steve rogers in the winter soldier before she kisses him?
im backkk! so sorry for the massive delay, i love this request. it may be a little rusty so i apologize now.
pda || tangerine
tangerine x reader
warnings: brief talks of shooting and guns
word count: 1.2k+
masterlist
"you're a fuckin' idiot, tan," you snapped in defeat, looking at the man who appeared clueless about the situation.
he tsked and continued to move deeper into the building, "there's nothing to worry about. alarm gets tripped so what? we got a few minutes before anyone shows up."
with slow footsteps you followed behind him. irate was the only word to describe your mood. you mimicked him behind his head, arms up in the air, your gun flailing around dangerously in your right hand as you muttered in a whiny baby voice, 'we got a few minutes'.
tangerine and stubbornness go hand in hand, you can't have one without the other. his attitude made missions sometimes far easier when there were issues with other individuals or, in this case, far more difficult. instead of waiting an extra five minutes for the incoming call from lemon providing tangerine with the keycode, tangerine took it upon himself to smash the keypad. of course, an orchestra of alarms rang out and bounced off the walls of the building in an almost deafening manner. but rest assured, there was no one in the building...according to tangerine.
"c'mon we need to hurry up," you said, now walking in stride with him, "second-floor unit 204."
it was a file the two of you were after. information was scarce to get. a mission would come through, assigned off to you, and that was the extent of knowledge you had. as far as you and tangerine knew, your boss wanted the list of names encrypted on the file. what you didn't know was that the building was teeming with employees ready to defend the file.
there was a loud boom followed by an eerie silence. immediately you and tangerine halted, his hand coming to hover in front of your body preventing you from moving. tangerine's eyebrows were pulled into a deep furrow attempting to use some sort of instinct to decipher where the noise was coming from. he caught your eye before following your pointed fingers that were angled above and to the left. just as he pivoted his head, a symphony of gunshots rang.
"move!" he demanded, gripping your jacket and shoving you behind a structural pillar.
the whizzing of the bullets sounded as if you were surrounded by a swarm of bees. you were silently cursing at tangerine for his rash decisions earlier. you watched as tangerine shot five men in succession.
"oh but we had time, right?" you barked, aiming your sights on seemingly the last gentleman. with a squeeze of the trigger, the bullet went flying, piercing the man on the side of his neck.
tangerine sprinted from his position, "let's go," he directed, grabbing onto your wrist.
"god-," you panted, "i hate working with you sometimes."
"oh shut up," he huffed as your legs pounded against the waxed tiles, your wrist still bouncing in his grasp.
just as the two of you were about to push open the front doors, a bullet shattered the glass causing the two of you to stumble. daring to peer behind you, you were met with about four men charging forward.
"shit, c'mon," tangerine rushed.
tangerine guided you around the corner of the building, sprinting into a busier part of town. there was no chance of losing the men and although the distance between grew wide, you could still hear the pounding of the footsteps. with you in tow, tangerine darted into a convenience store. through short breaths, you could hear tangerine muttering how there is a back exit. you took the opportunity to shrug off your jacket and toss it down one of the aisles in a measly attempt to disguise yourself. without warning you gripped tangerine's button down and popped the first three buttons open. he sent you a look of disgust.
"can you try disguising yourself?" the annoyance in your tone evident. without a word, tangerine huffed as he discarded his perfectly tailored jacket and vest by shoving it into a man's arms.
you and tangerine decided to cut into a park. it was risky doing so. the park only had one real entrance and exit and there wasn't much to hide behind. tangerine figured it was the best option instead of walking the busy streets and putting innocent lives in danger. so, the two of you darted through the gate but not before one last look at the unwelcomed guests trailing behind. thankfully, there was enough distance that the man leading the pack didn't notice the small detour you two took.
"what the fuck!" you groaned quietly after a few minutes of heaving breaths and pebbles scattering beneath your feet. you noticed one of the men walking slowly through the park's weaving pathways.
tangerine ran a hand through his hair, "we got nowhere to go."
you felt your palms getting sweaty as you tried raking your brain of what to do. tangerine looked just as clueless as you. the park had one entrance and the two of you were trapped in the corner.
"kiss me."
"what?" tangerine asked incredulously.
"pda, it uh-" you stammered, "it makes people uncomfortable."
a nervous chuckle escaped his lips but you couldn't miss the way his tongue poked out between his lips, "i'm not-"
before your mind could process your movements you were shoving tangerine by the shoulders and forcing him to sit down on the park bench. as if it was the most natural action in the world, you placed your knees on either side of his legs and sat on his thighs. leaning down you pressed your lips against his. your hands trailed up the back of his neck and into his now loose curls. you noted how tangerine didn't seem to move at first until it was like he suddenly came to life and his hands gripped at your hips.
tangerine's mind was spinning. he'd never dare to admit but he dreamed of this. the way your lips slotted perfectly into his, the feeling of your heart thumping against his chest, your nails gently gliding against his scalp, the feeling of your weight on him.
the kiss was gentle yet desperate. a kiss so perfect that you only read about it in romance novels. too perfect that you didn't even hear the suited man wielding a gun mutter how disgusting people are these days. his grimacing face going unnoticed as your lips molded to tangerine's. the echo of his footsteps receding faded into the night.
your lungs burned for air but you couldn't bring yourself to pull away. tangerine's cologne clouded your senses with a perfect mixture of cedarwood and green mandarin. his facial hair tickled at your face. you could feel tangerine's thigh flex with the movement of your body. his hands cradled your frame, your shirt slightly bunched in between his fingers. it pained you to pull away but you lost the ability to breathe.
your eyes fluttered in a sense of disbelief but also awe as tangerine's eyes bounced around your face. he noted the way your chest rapidly rose and fell, but for him, his breathing paused. he took in the way your lips were slightly swollen and glistening, the vanilla lip balm you applied earlier now transferred to his lips. your shirt now lopsided on your shoulders from him gripping your sides. though only one lamp lit the bench the two of you were perched on, tangerine could still see the pink flush dancing across your cheeks. gently, he raised his hand and brushed his thumb across your bottom lip, already missing the kiss.
if pda made people uncomfortable, tangerine wanted the whole world to feel unsettled.
wc. 1956
summary. tangerine was put out of work following the events of an accident. as a result, he created his own business, applying all of his knowledge. you work as a secretary cross technical assistant for him and working very closely to the big bad boss catches the eyes of your peers. one day he notices a change in your workwear — proving to you, he’s been paying a lot more attention than you originally thought. boss x secretary.
disclaimer. the images at the bottom are just a reference of what I picture the reader wearing. they are not a reflection of how I write or see yn (colour and body type) it’s merely a way to show you what I envisioned
MY 2 YEAR ANNIVERSARY! it’s only right that I write for tan seeing as it all started with him xx also a big big loving thank you to @pretty-little-mind33 for the idea and brainstorming with me. literally would not have done this without her <33
SERIES MASTERLIST
⎯ ☆ ⎯
It wasn’t often that you’d find yourself not looking forward to work — feeling anxious to get in. Your love for what you do always seeming to overshadow any discomfort.
For the last several months, you’ve been working as a technical assistant cross secretary for your boss, Tangerine. No one knew of his real name, and you were starting to think that’s the way it’ll always be.
Last night after your shift, you were brought to HR for an unexpected meeting, being called up on a dress code violation. Multiple complaints made around the office about your bright tights and flowy shirts, being told that it was ‘unfit for work’ and a ‘distraction.’ You knew you weren’t exactly well liked around the office — the sneers and scowls made your way making that evident. But never did you think they would go so far out of their way to complain about you.
Their dislike for you felt territorial — judgy eyes always seeming to follow you as you attend to the needs and wants of your boss. The attention you gain from the broody, grumpy man in charge, simply asks and tasks you agreed to in your job description. The repetitive calls for your name only ever consisting of tea requests or computer help. It left you feeling confused and isolated, constantly wondering why they hated you so much. You were only ever doing your job. Doing what was asked of you.
So, as you sit in your car before the start of the workday, you use your spare few moments to collect yourself, preparing for those same judgemental stares. You look down at your legs briefly, noticing the lack of colour — your usual patterned tights now being replaced with grey, drab trousers. All of your vibrancy and exuberancy —personality— stolen when told to make this change.
You exhale, giving yourself one last second of sanity before you’re getting out of the car, juggling your bags and cups of coffee in hand. Stepping into the building and into the elevator with a small crowd, you become invisible, blending in with everyone — becoming what you’ve always dreaded: a lifeless office zombie, sharing the same apathetic, dull expression with all those around you.
You reach your floor and exit with the few remaining others in the lift. You deviate from your colleagues and head for your bosses office at the back, giving his door a couple of knocks.
“Yeah?” he calls out, and you slowly push the door open.
His usual rigged, intimidating gaze softens as his eyes fall on you through the gap, his attention landing on you over the top of his computer.
“You’re late,” he says, the words a reprimand for most, but for you they were more of an observation — a casual, flyaway statement.
“I know, I’m sorry. Traffic was a nightmare,” you apologise as you step into his office, avoiding his eyes like you were ashamed.
You look down to the coffees in hand and pass him the one without the lipstick mark, extending an arm as you move to stand beside his desk.
“Don’t worry about it. It happens,” he reassures. And as he takes the cup from your hold, he glances down, noticing the lack of your familiar flamboyance. “What’re you wearing?”
You look down confused, brows pulling together as if to show you didn’t understand his question.
“The trousers,” he looks up at you, gaze almost harsh. “Why're you wearing them?”
He has never seen you wear trousers.
“Thought I’d shake things up,” you shrug with your lie, not wanting him to know the real reason.
You didn’t want to give your peers more reason to hate you by tattling to the boss — complaining about them being mean to you, so you decided against it, keeping him from the truth. Though it’s far harder than you anticipated, his eyes ever so demanding as he remains fixed on you above.
“So no smiley face is also part of you shaking things up?” he questions, showing you the blank cup — your usual sharpie smileys nowhere to be seen.
You wince slightly, embarrassed by the whole ordeal. You weren’t sure if the embarrassment was from the fact he noticed or that you forgot. But humiliation was felt either way.
“It’ll save us the ballache if you tell me why,” he takes a sip of his drink and places it aside, giving you his full attention. “I can call a staff meeting, but I reckon they’ll get suspicious after seeing us talk,” he playfully blackmails, offering you a faint smile to show you his bribe holds no such malice.
You turn and look out through the window of his office, picking up on dozens of sets of eyes glued to you through the gap of his blinds. All of which briskly turn away upon the glance of Tangerine, his eyeline following yours — scaring your peers back into work.
“What’d they do?” he asks, redirecting your focus back to him.
“I just got a complaint, that’s all,” you shrug, trying to minimise it as much as possible.
“Why?” he asks bluntly, neck craning to keep your eyes on him.
“They don’t like the way I dress apparently,” you laugh faintly, the noise sounding far more hurt than you intended. “I mean I get it,” you deflect, trying not to slip into a habit of seeking him for assurance when people in the office turn against you. “I get what they mean.”
He’s quiet as he looks over you, head shaking disapprovingly as he mumbles something incoherent. He inhales deeply and then coughs to clear his throat, sounding like he was preparing for something.
“I gotta meet with some people, but I’ll see what I can do,” he says as he stands, reaching for his briefcase. “Don’t let these miserable lot get to you,” he smiles weakly as he collects his coffee cup, heading towards the door until he stops, and turns around to face you. “They hate that I don’t hate you, that’s all.”
Your eyes follow after him as he leaves his office, leaving you standing there alone to process his words. You’ve never really picked up on the hinted favouritism like your colleagues have — never seeming to notice the allowances and kindness your peers aren’t granted with. But you were only ever doing as told, why would that warrant any special treatment?
And with that thought in mind, you head towards your desk just outside of his office, setting your things on your neatly, organised table. Placing your hot drink in his designated spot besides your computer, you log on — attending to emails and to things on your extensive to do list.
A few hours pass you by.
You’re interrupted from all work when you feel the presence of someone standing behind you, your boss now back from his meeting with a pile of papers in hand.
“Need you to sort these out for me,” he says as places the stack beside your hand. “Please,” he adds, trying to keep up with the habit he’s trying to enforce by showing his appreciation. But only to you.
You look down to the pile, noticing a gap in between the blank, plain papers. You look up at him briefly, like you were asking permission and then your eyes fall back onto the stack. And as you go to lift the upper chunk of papers, Tangerine is moving from you and into his office, a new bag —a shopping bag— held within the hand of his briefcase. You take little to no notice and turn your attention back to the pile, a square paper bag hiding within the fake forms. The perfect cloak of disguise.
You didn’t need to look inside to know what it was, the warm circle giving it away immediately. It was a cookie. You swivel in your chair to look into his office, his eyes already on you through the gap in his blinds. The gap you’re now starting to believe holds another purpose. You smile at him sweetly, mouthing thanks before resuming with your work — wanting to get it all done before the end of the day.
And as five pm soon rolls around and as everyone begins logging off and packing up for home, you turn to look back at Tangerine, a pained expression on his face as he rolls his shoulder. His old injury you know very little about seeming to give him grief.
The floor begins to clear and you collect your things, walking those few steps until you’re in front of your boss's door. You give it a light tap and enter when welcomed.
“You off?” he asks, turning his attention to you in his doorframe.
“Yep,” you smile, lingering for a moment. “Thank you for the cookie, by the way.”
“It’s alright,” he gently smiles, head bowing almost bashfully. “Hang on and I’ll walk you out. Don’t want you out in the dark by yourself.”
“You don’t have to do that,” you deflect, not wanting to be a bother. “Really it’s okay, my car is only outside.”
He shakes his head at you as he gives his desk a quick tidy, packing things up for the night. Tangerine stands and collects his belongings, picking up his coat from the rack and small bag from the side before he’s heading to you, guiding you along.
You each walk towards the open elevators and head in, standing side by side —close— within the confined space.
He twists inwards to face you. “I uh,” he starts, extending the shopping bag from earlier to you. “I picked something up for you.”
Your brows tug in the middle, looking up at him like you were questioning the reasoning why. You take it from his hand and look inside.
“No,” you whisper, sheer disbelief in your voice as you pull out the gift. “These are beautiful! Where did you even find them?” you question, looking over the tights, marvelling at the pattern.
He keeps his head cast downwards, looking between his feet as he smiles, appreciating your appreciation. “It’s a secret.”
The elevator dings, cutting your time short and you both look at each other, the glance brief. He holds his arm out, gesturing for you to step off first, and you do. You linger, waiting for him to join so you could walk besides one another.
The walk towards your car is slow, as if both of you are trying to savour the short journey, hang on to it. Small chuckles and shy, stolen glances being the only form of communication during your minute long walk.
You reach into your bag and pull out your keys to unlock your car, the dozen chains and charms jingling and clattering with the movement of your hand.
Tangerine reaches for your door, pulling the handle to open it for you — nodding you inside. You smile at him sweetly as you get in, placing your bags on the passenger seat.
“You get home safe, alright?” he says, grinning softly.
“I will,” you look down coyly, smile faint.
He nods once. “Good.”
“See you monday?”
“Mhm-hm,” he hums, expression gentle as he goes to close your door. “Have a good weekend,” he says before shutting you inside.
You exhale shakily within the quiet sanctuary of your car, the lack of noise allowing your mind to run rampant with repeats from the last few minutes. You glance down to your gift, trying to process it all until your eyes land on the tag — his name, his real name squiggled on the note.
The favouritism you’ve struggled to notice becomes as clear as day. Every interaction from the past now being thought of differently as you look back on it all.
⎯ ☆ ⎯
in my mind she’s very penelope garcia/ louisa clark/ jessica day/ phoebe buffay coded (more so in dress sense) she’s cute and i love her
I’m talking arms wrapped around you as soon as he’s back home from a job, snuggles in bed, a hand on the small of your back when your walking together
This man loves having his hands on you
And if he could have it his way, he’d never let you go
Being the kleptomaniac he is, he tends to nick little things to gift to you as well
He does it completely out of habit too
Sees a snack he knows you like at a vendor and pockets it, or maybe he sees a necklace that’d look just perfect on you and nabs it
Sometimes he just comes home and empties his pockets with an innocent smile and hopes you don’t chew him out again about his habit
Any expense you could possibly have is paid for (just don’t worry about the details of where that money comes from)
You mention in passing that you need a new purse, there’s a designer bag out on the counter the next day with a little note that says “from your sweet fruit”
On that note, you love giving him stupid lovey-dovey nicknames to him, and he loves to give you shit for it
“Teddy bear” when he’s being especially cuddly, “sweetheart” when he does something particularly nice for you, but his personal favorite is when you call him “my sweet fruit”
He’ll act like he hates it, but deep down it makes him feel cared for that you have a pet name reserved for just him
And of course he gives it right back
Every sentence out of his mouth to you is accompanied by a “love,” “sweetheart,” "my girl," "angel," or “princess” (whatever feels right for the moment)
BTW: Thank you @little-miss-dilf-lover for being my muse and making me write again 🍊🫶🏻🧡
Tangerine had never been one to keep his temper in check, especially when it came to you. The two of you had been in far worse situations, but today was different. The local police force had no idea who they were dealing with, and it didn’t help that they were handling you both like a pair of thugs.
The officer shoving you into the back of the police car had already crossed a line, his grip too tight, his attitude too arrogant and his hands touching you. But when the other one got rough with you, pushing you toward the vehicle with far more force than necessary and making you trip, something snapped in Tangerine.
“Oi, that’s my wife!” His voice cut through the commotion like a knife, fury lacing every word. Before anyone could react, he lunged forward, headbutting the cop who’d been forcing him into the car. The crack of bone against bone was unmistakable, and the officer staggered back, blood pouring from his nose.
Tangerine didn’t stop there. He turned with a wild intensity in his eyes, his curly hair disheveled, one strand falling across his forehead, giving him a feral look. With his hands cuffed behind his back, he couldn’t do much, but that didn’t stop him. He barreled toward the cop who’d been rough with you, and with another fierce headbutt, sent him sprawling to the ground, clutching his face in pain.
Blood now dripped down Tangerine’s forehead, his hair a mess of curls and sweat. He sniffed, a drop of blood running down to his upper lip before he spit, his saliva tinged with red, at the cop writhing on the pavement. There was a terrifying calmness about him as he turned to you, the fiery rage melting into something softer, more tender.
“You alright, love?” he asked, his voice gentle, as if he hadn’t just taken down two cops with nothing but his head. His eyes searched yours, worry etched in every line of his face.
Before you could respond, the other officers started to move in, their shouts filling the air as they surrounded the two of you. But in that moment, all that mattered was Tangerine. Despite the chaos, despite the fact that your hands were cuffed behind your backs, you stepped closer to him. He leand in as close as he could, and you buried your face in his chest, feeling the warmth of his body on your cheek. His chin rested on top of your head, his breath coming in soft, reassuring huffs.
“I’m alright,” you murmured into his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart.
His kissed the top of your head, as if reassuring himself that you were really there, that you were safe. You look up wanting to kiss away his worry.
Just as your lips were about to brush his, the moment shattered. Rough hands yanked you backward, pulling you away from Tangerine before you could taste his lips. The separation was brutal the world that had narrowed to just the two of you expanded back out into chaos.
His eyes widened in fury as you were torn apart from eachother, and before either of you could protest, a cop shoved him roughly toward a separate squad car.
“Tangerine!” you called out, your voice cracking with desperation as he was pulled away. But before his name fully left your lips, a hand clamped down on your arm, yanking you back so brutally it felt like your shoulder might tear from its socket.
The violent pull sent you stumbling, nearly crashing to the ground. The cop jerked you upright, twisting your arm more with such force that pain shot through your entire body.
"Get the fuck off of her!" Tangerine roared, thrashing against the officers holding him, as he tried to get back to you. But they were too many now, and even he couldn’t fight them all off with his hands cuffed. You struggled too, your heart pounding in your chest, the grip on your arms unyielding, forcing you further away from him.
The last thing you saw before they shoved you into the back of a squad car was Tangerine being kicked into another vehicle, his eyes locked on yours with a look that promised he wouldn’t stop fighting until he got back to you. But then the door slammed shut, cutting off your view. The cold metal of the cuffs dug into your wrists as the car pulled away, the flashing lights reflecting off the windows as the city streets blurred by.
Your mind was spinning, back to Tangerine. You could only imagine what he was going through in the other car, his fury probably pushing him to the brink. You hoped he wouldn’t do anything too reckless—though, knowing him, that was probably a lost cause.
When you finally arrived at the precinct, they dragged you out of the car, your shoulder aching from the rough treatment. You were led through the fluorescent-lit corridors, the sound of your footsteps echoing against the linoleum floor. The air thick with the scent of sweat and cheap coffee. The officers, still on edge from Tangerine’s outburst, were rough as they took your fingerprints, mugshot and your personal belongings.
They put you in a holding cell, the bars cold and unwelcoming as they locked you inside. As you paced the small space, minutes felt like hours as you waited, your heart thudding with every creak of the building around you.
Then, finally, you heard a familiar voice outside the cell.
“What the hell have you two gotten yourselves into this time?”
Lemon’s tone was half exasperated, half amused, though there was an underlying concern that warmed you just a bit. A moment later, the door swung open, and there he was, looking far too calm for someone about to bail his brother and sister-in-law out of jail. His bright yellow jacket stood out starkly against the drab surroundings, like a ray of misplaced sunshine.
Lemon's exasperation clear on his face as he surveyed the mess that was your situation. His eyes softened when they landed on you, taking in the bruises forming on your arms and wrists.
“Alright, let’s get you out of here,” he sighed, pulling some strings with the Sergeant and sliding a few bills across the counter.
“They’re releasing him now,” Lemon said as he guided you out of the cell. “You’re lucky I got here when I did. Tangerine was about to start a riot in his cell...”
You followed Lemon through the station, the tension in your chest easing with each step. When you reached the front desk, you saw Tangerine standing there, still cuffed but very much alive, a bandage hastily slapped across his forehead and his shirt stained with dried blood. His curls even more disheveled than before, but you’d never been happier to see him.
“Lemon, about time, mate,” Tangerine grumbled, though there was a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
“Yeah, yeah, save it for later,” Lemon replied, rolling his eyes but clearly glad to see his brother in one piece. “You two are bloody hopeless, you know that?”
Tangerine ignored the jab. The moment his eyes met yours, his entire demeanor softened. He jerked his arms, clearly eager to get to you, but the officer behind the desk held onto his cuffs until the last possible second, as if hoping for one more reason to keep him locked up.
Finally, though, the metal restraints fell away, and Tangerine was free. He crossed the distance between you in a few quick strides. Without a word, he pulled you into his arms. He held you tight, like he’d never let go again, his lips brushing the top of your head in a silent promise.
“You alright?” he murmured, repeating the question he’d asked before everything went sideways.
“Now I am,” you whispered back, leaning into him as much as you could.
Lemon cleared his throat, making a show of looking anywhere but at the two of you. “Right, well, let’s get out of here before these idiots change their minds. We’ll deal with this mess later.”
With Lemon leading the way, you and Tangerine made your way out of the precinct, your fingers holding his as you walked side by side. As Tangerine pulled you closer, his arm slung protectively around your shoulders.
The cool night air hit your face as you stepped outside, the city buzzing around you as if nothing had happened.
Tangerine and the reader are spicyyy FWB, and we start to see him falling for her in his POV. The lust, the yearning, how he tries to play it off and eventually gives into it!
I could hug you because I love this idea so much. I hope it's what you had in mind!
Like Usual
Tangerine x f!reader
Theme: FWB to lovers (explicit)
Warnings: sex, making out, swearing
Word count: 721
Rough hands claiming skin. Lips pressing kisses wherever they can reach. Filthy whispers lingering in the air. It sounds like his normal tuesday. Because it is. It started with one drunk night together. Glances turned into lustful gazes. Innocent touches became everything but. Another night followed. Then another. And another. No labels, except for an unspoken rule; no feelings involved, just physicality. A rule that is now making his chest ache with something empty he's too afraid to name.
He watches his gold chain sway over your features as he rocks into you.
Christ, she's gorgeous.
The thought creeps inside his head like an unwanted disease. He presses his lips together to stop the words from slipping out mid-moment, because God forbid you hear them. Instead, he forces out a rough grunt. His hand curls around your throat, something he's learned you like. A hopeless act of distraction from his own racing thoughts. Your reaction is immediate; brows knitting, a breathy moan slipping past your lips. He watches it happen, eyes darting over your face like it's their usual routine.
Then why don't it bloody feel like usual?
His holds your gaze a beat too long. "Fuck," he groans, the word dragged out before he can stop it. His eyes squeeze shut like that might shut out whatever he's feeling.
The aftermath is different this time. Warmer. Wrong, but also soothing that empty feeling in his chest. He catches himself nuzzling into your neck, pressing lazy kisses along your jaw between soft pants, like his body forgot it's default detachment. He suddenly freezes, eyes going wide.
Fuck am I doin'?
He jerks back just enough to see your face, almost accusatory. “Why’d you let me do that?” he snaps, voice clipped with frustration. He doesn't wait for an answer. Instead he shifts, creating distance between you, like that could magically erase what just happened. "Fuck's sake,' he mutters. "This ain't… we dont do that." Reminding himself more than you, but also quietly testing your answer. When you brush it off and get dressed like normal, something in him stirs. He lets out a slow, controlled breath through his nose, trying to compose himself for once. His movements are fast and jerky as he yanks his clothes back on as well. Tugging the condom off with more force than necessary. He catches a glimpse of your side profile as you sit on the edge of the bed, pulling your pants back on. Another twist in his chest. His hands twitch, almost reaching for you. For a second, he allows himself to just look at you. Studying the way your hair falls around your face, the way you press your lips together when you focus on something. He'd seen the way you looked up at him earlier. He isn't crazy.
Mindless fuck my arse. This wasn't that.
As quick as it came, he pushes the thought away like it personally offended him. He doesn't do feelings. Been having one night stands without an issue. This? With you? It's just like that. Should be. The sound of you zipping your handbag snaps him back to reality. His tired eyes meet yours. The mandatory quick peck on his lips before you leave is what ticks him off entirely. His jaw tightens when you turn on your heels and walk toward the hallway. Before he can think it through, his hand catches your wrist. "Oi," he mutters. "Where d'you think you're off to?" When you pause, he finally meets your gaze properly. Then sees the shift in you. Puzzling the pieces together. His temper. His restraint earlier. He can practically see the gears turning in your head. Gaze sweeping over your face to watch for the moment you finally get it.
Fuck it.
He stands and kisses you properly, like he's done pretending this isn't anything more than just another meaningless shag. His hands frame your face. And when you kiss him back? His shoulders aren't as rigid under your hands anymore. The fight with himself slowly but surely draining from his body. When you pull back, he chases your lips for just a second, stealing one last peck. "Stay," he whispers, searching your eyes for a reaction. Your forehead rests against his. But it's your answer that undoes him. "Was hoping you'd finally ask that."
summary - y/n jane porter (you) decides to prove men wrong by searching for the lost man, and you happen upon him after insulting a bunch of baboons, only to realise that you will never leave again.
18+ only please, the gif and headers I use aren't mine.
Warnings and Reminders - Please do not plagiarise, copy, repost/republish, adapt, or translate any of my work on any social media platforms, apps, or third-party sites. The only platforms I post my work on are: Tumblr and Wattpad. I do not own any character of any franchise (Marvel etc.) All my works are fiction and may be dark or triggering content: READ ALL WARNINGS BEFORE PROCEEDING.
You huffed as you stalked the forest, searching for a man who had been lost to the world. Explorers have searched high and low for him but have yet to succeed. You were determined to be different, to prove to them that you could find the lost man. Secretly though, you knew he would be feral, not even knowing what a woman was and the pleasure you could bring him. You hiked up your light yellow dress, white-gloved hands scrunching the material between your fists. You spin when you hear a sound, looking up into the trees, and your eyes widen when you notice the many baboons staring down at you.
“Oh, hello.” You look closer, squinting your eyes and scrunching your nose. “You’re quite ugly creatures, aren’t you?” You stumble back when they begin to screech, looking ready to attack, and you put your hands up. “I didn’t mean to offend. It’s just…” Your words are lost to them, and you start running as some of them jump from the trees and chase you, the others swinging through the branches. You pick up your pace, dodging trees and rocks, trying your best not to trip or get caught. You feel your breath shorten, and your lungs burn. A scream escapes you as your foot gets caught on a root, but before you can fall, something or someone grabs you, swinging you away from the baboons.
You screw your eyes shut, not daring to look at what had grabbed you, feeling it would be better if you didn’t see what fate had planned for you. Your brows scrunched as you felt whoever or whatever was placing you down softly, and your eyes widened when you opened them, noticing the man everyone had been searching for. The lost man had saved you from being torn to shreds, and the excitement caused a jolt between your legs. You scanned his physic, noticing how tanned and beautiful he looked. Your eyes landed on his face lastly, eyeing the moustache and imagining what it would feel like in between your thighs, his unbrushed hair all curled and wild, like him.
Tangerine’s head tilts, doing the same to you. He was curious, never having seen someone like you before. He’s seen others that look like him, but none so… Beautiful, so soft looking. He licked his lips, scanning you like you were a meal for him to feast on. He glared when you lifted your hand, and you returned it with a soft smile. “It’s okay. I’m not here to hurt you… I’m Y/n Jane Porter. Do you have a name?” Tangerine grunts, lifting his hand and cautiously placing it against yours, thinking of his words. You squeeze your legs together at his touch, causing his eyes to snap down to the sweet nectar that lies between your thighs.
Tangerine’s hand moves from yours and taps his chest. “Tangerine.” Your eyes widen as the words fall from his lips, and you offer a soft smile.
“Like the fruit?” Your head tilts, knowing another name that would fit him. Tarzan stays on the tip of your tongue as you watch him.
He grunts again and stops, looking around before roughly grabbing you, causing a gasp to pass your lips. “Danger.” He growls. You are lifted onto the large man’s shoulders again as he begins to swing away just in time as the baboons swing, missing you by inches. Tangerine lands roughly on the ground. After a while of swinging and making sure you were no longer being followed, he lets you get off of him. You fall as your legs feel shaky, and you stumble back. He spins, eyeing you more, gazing at your exposed legs.
You clear your throat, brushing the dirt from your dress. “Thank you again.” Your chest moves up and down as you breathe heavily. You try and keep your eyes from looking at the bulge hidden behind the tiny cloth. Tangerine’s eyes lock to your heaving chest. You watch as they become black, filling with feral lust. He stalks towards you, backing you into a tree. You feel your cunt pulse, the large man turning you on. “W–what are you doing?” You gulp, squeezing your thighs together when he traps you against the wood.
“Me do you.” Tangerine growls. He grabs your hips, dragging you onto the ground and climbing over you. “Stay… Still.” He grunts, trapping you with his large body and rubbing his bulge against your dripping cunt. Tangerine had never felt something so incredible, and he hadn’t even explored that far yet. He sits on his legs, looking down at you with dark eyes filled with lust and hunger, growling as your dress becomes annoying. Tangerine grips the material, shredding it and causing you to squeal and squeeze your thighs together, feeling yourself clench around nothing. “Annoying” You don’t know why, but this feral man's few words turn you on.
You whimper, subconsciously spreading your legs for him, watching his mouth open and close as he glares between your legs, watching your pretty pussy drip. Tangerine growls as he dives in, lapping at your sweet cunt. Your back arches, and you let out a scream that echoes through the many trees. Your hands curl into the ground, legs slamming shut around his head as he continues to feast on your cunt, licking and sucking, wrapping his lips around your swollen pearl and sucking, flicking the sensitive little bud with his tongue. You move your hand into his hair, gripping the untamed locks, pulling him closer. “O–Oh! That feels so good!” You exclaim, feeling the band inside you tighten, ready to snap. “Keep going, please!” Your eyes screw shut, and your toes curl, but suddenly everything stops, and you open them again. “What are you doing? Why did you stop?” You felt furious, sexually frustrated. This was the most pleasure you had felt in your entire life, and you couldn’t let it slip from your fingertips.
Tangerine growls and your eyes widen when you watch him grab himself. The tiny cloth has tented massively and keeps nothing hidden. He rips the pathetic material from his body and throws it aside, tilting his head as you make an embarrassingly loud choking sound. You look at him and back to his cock repeatedly, staring with your mouth open. “That’s not going to fit inside me.” Even as you say those words, your walls clench as you watch his cock twitch.
Tangerine grunts, shrugging. He crawls on top of you, forcefully placing your legs onto his shoulder and tapping your gaping hole with his swollen tip. “Fit.” You gasp as he begins to push in, his hair covering his face as he puts his head down, never having felt something so good. “Good” The grunt he lets out causes you to clench around him and his hips to thrust forward, forcing his way deeper inside you. Your head rolls back into the dirt, closing your eyes as he picks up his pace, releasing the animal buried deep inside of him. Tangerine slams hard and fast into you, his cock so large it feels like he’s in your stomach. If possible, the bulge that forms causes him to become even more feral.
Your hands fly up and grip his arms, digging your nails into him before whimpering when he pulls out and flips you around, pushing your face into the dirt and lifting your hips before plunging back into you, grunting and growling as he fucks you like an animal. Your mouth falls open, and your eyes roll back, clawing into the ground and clutching onto it, trying to find something to ground yourself too. Tangerine grips your hips, pounding against you, moaning when he feels you grip his cock like a vice, dragging him deeper into you and allowing him to hit your sweet spot repeatedly. “Ah! Oh! Fuck… Right there!” You whine, fucking and grinding your hips back into him, wanting to feel him more.
Tangerine pulls out again, your mind too fuzzy to get angry as he grabs you and pushes you against the tree, wrapping your legs around his waist and reentering your sweet cunt. Your eyes roll into the back of your head, mouth open in a silent scream as he fucks up into you, his lips against your neck, marking you as his. You are so close, feeling your walls pulsate and clench around the feral man, feeling so dirty and full. “I–I’m close!” Tangerine grunts, slamming harder into you, pinning you against the tree, not caring if the bark marks your flesh. Your vision goes white, and your body goes slack in his arms as your orgasm rips through you, squeezing his cock and coating it with your cream.
A growl rips through the large man. Tangerine bites into your shoulder, fucking deeper as he feels his balls tighten. He had only experienced this when he’d touch himself, teasing his cock and balls until he was close to cumming before stopping and repeating. He knew the release would feel amazing, causing him to continue to thrust, his hand moving between your bodies, locating your swollen, sensitive clit and rubbing. Your back arches, causing another orgasm to rip through you, and Tangerine groans, releasing his cum deep inside you, filling you with thick amounts as you squeeze his cock.
Your head slumps against his chest, your chest moving up and down heavily as you try and catch your breath. Your walls pulsate around his still-hard cock, wondering how he could still be ready for more. Tangerine cups the back of your neck, grunting as he makes you look at him. He grins, leaning close as he slowly begins to thrust again. “Mine.”
The growl can still be heard as you realise you will never be able to leave again, but maybe that was a good thing.
