Summary: your boss is annoying you whilst trying to finish a deadline until you meet Tangerine on a train journey
@otaku-girl-ao3-fics @mrs-johnson @elenavampire21
Having a bad day darling
Your quietly sat at a booth typing away on your laptop trying to finish the last deadline to post to your boss. Phone constantly pinging with texts from boss.
“Seriously can a girl get any fucking peace or else I won’t be able to finish this bloody deadline, ohh shut up.”
Slamming your phone back onto the table and sighing before looking up and noticing Tangerine smiling at you and indicating if he can join you.
“Oh I do sincerely apologise for my outburst just my boss being an absolute nob end,
I’m y/n by the way again extremely sorry.”
Tangerine settles into the booth next to you and smiles he feels irritated that your boss will not leave you in peace to finish your deadline.
“Whys your boss leaving you to do all the work, oi nothing to apologise here quite Right your boss is a proper nob end, I’m Tangerine yes like the fruit, Tangerine's eyes stay locked onto how gorgeous you are.
You were currently typing the last part of the breadline and had just hit save when your phone rang for the 100th time today again it was your boss before you could answer it tangerine had already done it.
“Hello no she’s too busy right now bloody hell can you not give her at least some peace to finish her work excuse me Right, that's it, you muppet. Either let her finish her work or Piss off and I’m Fuckin' warned ya, didn't I?.”
He switches your phone off and slides it back towards you quietly taken back at how Tangerine had handled the situation with your boss.
“Well ehm I don’t know whether or not to punch or kiss you nobody has ever stood up to my boss not even thought of speaking back thank you, well since I’ve finished why don’t we get to know each other can I buy you a drink to say thank you.”
A corner of his mouth lifts. He knew you'd be kind, caring extremely funny and cute plus he desperately wanted to get to know you.
I’m taking you out," he says like it's already decided. "Dinner, drinks after. Somewhere quiet and romantic and that severed good whisky not watered down crap like on here”
Weirdly there is something interesting and exciting about Tangerine, tilting your head and wondering why this guy is chasing and flirting with you.
“Okay mr You always this forward?, with new people you’ve just met, because can I just ask why me then.”
He leans his hand across to lay it softly on top of yours and grins and admires you.
“Only when I see someone who I really really wanna get to know and see where this night goes.”
You let out a quiet giggle and roll eyes and softly stroke the back of his hand.
“Seriously tangerine that has to be thee cheesiest pick up line I’ve ever heard but I also really really wanna see where this night goes.”
You both spend the feast of the train journey chatting and laughing before you asked tangerine to come sit next to you where you automatically place head onto his shoulder still holding hands.
pairing: Holland March (The Nice Guys) x fem!reader x Tangerine (Bullet Train)
word count: 5.6k
summary: You unexpectedly meet a very handsome stranger and his brother during what is otherwise an ordinary work day at The Nice Guys’ office. You want to be polite to this time-traveling guest, but your boyfriend Holland has other (filthy) plans in mind.
tags: smut, humor, time travel, 1970s setting, canon-typical violence (threatening others with guns), established Holland x reader relationship, bisexual!Holland, bi-curious!Tangerine, mentions of period-typical homophobia, mentions of Holland’s first wife, one healymarch mention, use of y/n, threesome, grinding, cunnilingus, vaginal fingering, blowjobs, eiffel tower position, doggystyle, protected p in v sex, cumshot, cum eating, inspired by That makeout scene from Challengers, takes place before Bullet Train :’)
now playing: Super Freak - Rick James
a/n: this can be read as a standalone oneshot, but I wrote it as a loose continuation of my previous Holland x fem!reader fic He’s Not My Baby, I’m His with the same reader!
main masterlist / cross-posted on ao3
this work contains smut. minors DNI
———
Tonight was supposed to be a simple and clean job. The two assassins Tangerine and his brother Lemon were hired by an infamous drug kingpin in London to locate all of his competitor’s supplies and quietly take out any rival gang members who happened to be there, so that the inventory would be theirs.
According to the intel given to them, the drugs were stashed inside a warehouse in Hackney. When the clock struck 11pm, the two assassins drove over to the location, armed with silenced pistols and backup weapons in the trunk. They parked at an inconspicuous spot that wasn’t too close to the building and sneaked their way to a back entrance door. Tangerine quietly turned the door handle, pistol in his right hand, and entered the building—Lemon was trailing right behind him.
To their surprise, they didn’t find themselves in a drug lord’s warehouse; what they saw in front of them was a small office space with beige walls and a white tiled floor. Lemon thought that he was in a reverse TARDIS-kind of situation—it was smaller on the inside.
The two men furrowed their eyebrows in pure confusion, but they still had to keep their guard up. They saw that the door to one room was open, and there was definitely a person inside. It was you, making your boyfriend Holland a cup of coffee inside the office’s break room. Tangerine silently turned to his brother and placed a finger onto his own lips. Lemon nodded in understanding.
When you stepped out of the break room, you suddenly saw two men pointing their guns right in front of you. You gasped and involuntarily let go of the steaming mug of coffee in your hand, the porcelain shattering into bits and the brown liquid seeping onto the white tiled floor. You could only stare at them with a shocked look of horror. They were finely dressed in their suits and ties, so you didn’t think of them as average house thieves. Were they hitmen sent to kill your boyfriend? Did Holland somehow screw them over or owe them a huge amount of money?
Tangerine reholstered his gun while placing his left hand up as a symbol of surrender.
“Miss, we are not here to hurt you. My brother and I just wanna know where we are.” Tangerine turned his head to sneer at his brother. “Lemon, put the damn gun down!”
“Alright, alright! I am,” the older man affirmed, placing his own gun back into his holster.
You instinctively called out for your boyfriend. “Holland, I need you here!” you tried your best to shout in a loud but steady voice.
Holland rushed over from his office room to where you were standing. He could hear the shakiness in your voice; you usually never called out for him like that.
When he saw the two mysterious guys staring right at you, he automatically got out his own gun and disengaged the safety, pointing his weapon at them.
“You two have five seconds to tell me who you are before I blow your fuckin’ brains out!” He threatened them.
As if on cue, Healy also walked over with his gun and stood next to Holland after he had heard all the commotion from his own office.
“That’s right, gentlemen. Better ‘fess up before your bodies hit the floor,” Healy added.
“Alright, alright! Calm your tits—no disrespect, love.” Tangerine turned to quickly address you. “We were just passing through, and now we’re clearly not in the right place.”
“And where the hell did you come from? You guys sound like you’re a long way from home,” Holland sneered.
“The fuck do you mean, mate? You lot are the foreigners here in London.” Tangerine replied.
“Look, I don’t know what kind of drugs you two snorted today, but you’re standing inside The Nice Guys Detective Agency on Hollywood Boulevard in Los Angeles, California. I suggest that you tell us the truth before we fly you home in wooden coffins,” Healy interjected.
“We are, erm, private contractors who are working on a job for an important client. We were supposed to infiltrate a large warehouse in Hackney, but the back door led us here,” Lemon confessed.
You raised your eyebrows with a frown, still confused on why they insisted that they were still in England.
“What are your names?” you asked the two strangers.
“My name is Tangerine and he is my brother and business partner Lemon.”
“Like the fuckin’ fruit?” Holland mocked him.
“I—for all intents and purposes, yes.” Tangerine decided that it was better to bite his tongue instead of insulting the two men who were pointing their loaded guns right at his face.
Huh. I’ve heard worse pseudonyms... Jesus, is this guy a porn star or something? Holland silently took in the extravagant sight of the Brit’s brunet curls, defined biceps, and full moustache. He has excellent taste, though, the American noted in reference to his expensive three-piece navy suit, a stack of gold rings on his fingers, and a leather watch on his wrist. Holland also liked the way his charming Cockney dialect filled his ears; he always had a thing for British accents.
“Okay, guys, can we please put the guns down? They clearly don’t want to hurt us and I really don’t want any blood to be shed today, thank you very much,” you pleaded to the two PIs.
Like clockwork, they reholstered their pistols at the same time. March and Healy were the faces and muscles of this agency, but you were the brains behind the whole operation. Ever since you started working here as their secretary, you had proved yourself to be the key to their success. Now, you were promoted to their unofficial partner and you received a third of all their earnings.
Ever since you first met Holland during your job interview with him, he fell head-over-heels for you, and you him. Despite the fights you two had at the beginning of your relationship, he ultimately changed his ways for the better and was now happily living with you and Holly at the March house in Pasadena.
Holland breathed out a deep sigh. “Fine, I guess we’ll introduce ourselves too. I’m Private Investigator Holland March, he’s my partner PI Jackson Healy, and she’s our amazing secretary [Y/N] [Y/L/N].” He directed his hand to the two of you.
“A pleasure.” Tangerine nodded, and Lemon mirrored his brother.
Lemon took out his cell phone from his jacket’s pocket. “Damn, I’ve got zero bars in here. Do you guys have the wifi password?”
“What’s wifi? And is that a mini TV in your hands?” Healy asked.
“Wha— you don’t have wifi here? How do you even get any work done?!”
“I don’t know how you folks do business across the pond, but we run a very reputable agency ‘round here,” Healy gritted through his teeth.
“Right, so… can we use your landline then? I’ll need to call my handler and tell him that we somehow ended up in ‘LA’, as you claim,” Tangerine asked the three of you.
“Yep, there’s a phone at the front desk.” You walked the two strangers over to the red landline phone on your desk.
“Jesus, what is this, the 70s?” Tangerine joked when he glanced at the vintage device.
“Last time I checked,” Holland snarked.
“Wait… what’s today’s date?” Tangerine felt a pit form in his stomach.
“Today’s Thursday, December 13th,” you replied.
“And year?”
“1979…?”
“Jesus fuckin’ Christ, you’ve gotta be kidding me!” Tangerine exclaimed in frustration.
Holland grabbed the freshly printed LA Times newspaper that had arrived at the mailbox just this morning and pointed to the top of the page. “The date is right here, bud. Are you guys still jet lagged or something?”
“Holy shit… I think we went through a time travel portal,” Lemon exclaimed.
“Wha— is this a fucking prank?! Can the camera crew reveal themselves already? I’m going outside.” Tangerine stormed to the front door. When he stepped outside, he saw that he was clearly not in London anymore. The sky was still a bright blue, the temperature was too warm to be in England, the horizon was dotted with tall palm trees, and he saw a 1970s style Chevy Impala drive by him.
The Brit walked back to the office with a defeated face. “You’re right, brother. We really did travel back in time.”
Your eyes widened in fascination. You always believed that time travel was the stuff of science fiction, something reserved for your weekly Doctor Who episodes on TV.
“What year are you guys from?” you asked.
“2022,” Lemon responded.
“Wow… oh my god… that’s so far away!”
“Yeah. A lot of shit has happened over those years.” Lemon didn’t have the heart to tell you about all the terrible things that had occurred around the world since your year.
“So, how are you two gonna get back to your era?” Healy probed them.
“I really don’t know, mate. All I know is that we’re gonna get an earful from our handler if we don’t complete this mission within twenty-four hours.” Tangerine pinched the bridge of his nose.
“Tell ya what: how about we stop by my place and we can sit down and figure somethin’ out? We’ll just close early for the day,” Holland offered.
“Yeah, sure. I definitely need to sit down,” Tangerine groaned.
After locking up the office for the day, Healy offered to drive the two assassins to Holland’s house while you rode shotgun in your boyfriend's car, as usual.
The two cars parked right in front of the March residence with a bright red door.
Tangerine whistled when he saw the swanky mid-century home. “Nice place you got there, March.”
“Thanks. We’re staying here while my old house is being rebuilt,” Holland replied, not wanting to elaborate any further.
“Pssst. Leave your weapons inside the top drawer,” your boyfriend told the brothers when they entered the front door. The two men compliantly got out their guns from their holsters and placed them inside the wood drawer.
Holland called out for his daughter. “Holly, hon? Are you here?”
“Yeah, dad! I’m in the living room!” Holly had just come back from school.
The five of you walked over to where Holly was sitting on the brown leather couch.
Lemon saw the vintage TV in the room and began to silently panic. He always liked to rewatch his favorite Thomas & Friends episodes after a stressful job, but how was he going to do that now, especially since the show didn’t air in the UK until 1984?
Healy addressed the man with frosted blond highlights. “Hey bud, you still look really shaken up. Do you wanna head over to the bar with Holly and I? I’ll let these three figure something out by themselves.”
“Yeah… that’s a really good plan.” Lemon couldn’t stand to look at the outdated piece of metal anymore.
Healy then turned to talk to the young girl. “Hi Holly, your dad and [Y/N] have to talk with our client Tangerine in private. How about I take you and our new friend Lemon here to the bar? I’ll buy you guys a Yoo-hoo.”
“The hell’s Yoo-hoo?” Lemon asked.
“Just the most delicious drink you can find in a bottle.”
You and Holland said your goodbyes to them while Tangerine stayed behind. “We’ll be done by dinner time!” you reassured Holly.
———
Tangerine sat in a chair and you and Holland sat on the couch across from him. The Brit couldn’t help but notice how close you stayed next to him and how you were holding his hand.
“Are you two fucking?” Tangerine blurted out the first thing he thought of.
“First of all, don’t talk to my girl like that, and second, yes, we are dating.” Holland raised his voice.
“My apologies. I have an impulsive temper; and cheers, you two are a beautiful couple,” Tangerine admitted.
Within the thirty or so minutes that he got to know you and Holland, he was already strongly attracted to you both. He admired your natural, ethereal beauty and the soft curves of your gorgeous body, plus your boyfriend’s handsomely scruffy looks and his impeccable sense of fashion—pretty similar to his own.
For Tangerine, his work never allowed him to have the freedom to fully express himself. Sure, he had some occasional flings and witnessed some wild sex parties during some of his jobs, but he never had time to find someone that he truly liked. He knew he was different when he and Lemon went to a strip club to investigate the kidnapping of one of their dancers; he got bricked up when he saw an incredibly handsome male stripper grinding on the pole. He told Lemon that he had to do a line of coke in the restroom to clear his head, but he was actually furiously jerking himself inside a stall. Whatever the fuck happened to being a professional? He scolded himself afterwards.
You saw that Holland was feeling antsy as he sat next to you. He was bouncing his right leg and he let go of your hand to rub his clothed thigh back and forth.
“Holland, baby, what are you thinking about, hmm? Tell us,” you gently probed him.
Holland was no stranger to the concept of “free love”. His late wife Rosie was his high school sweetheart, and they experimented with polyamory during the early years of their marriage. They had their fun, but they stopped when their baby girl Holly got older. They had confessed to each other that they were both bisexual and promised to take each other’s secret to the grave, as it was still a time of extreme prejudice and discrimination. After Rosie’s death, Holland had hooked up once with his best friend Jackson Healy after a drunken night out to celebrate a successful case closing, but they both decided that it felt more right to remain friends and business partners. When Holland started dating you, he revealed to you one night with teary eyes that he loved both men and women. You tightly embraced him and promised him that it didn’t make a difference to you; you loved every side of him and vowed to protect him for as long as you lived.
He had previously discussed the idea of a threesome with you, but it never moved beyond the initial conversation—until now. This was his chance for his fantasy to finally become a reality.
“Honey, do you remember that discussion we had the other week about, uh, adding a third?” Holland murmured to you.
“Mmhm,” you hummed with a smile.
“Do you want… him to be our third?”
Tangerine silently listened to your discussion with widened eyes and raised eyebrows. He was extremely flattered to hear that both you and Holland were attracted to him, and the feeling was definitely mutual.
“Why don’t we ask him?” you proposed.
You turned to face the curly-haired brunet. You weren’t one to mince your words, so you said it outright.
“Tangerine, would you like to have a threesome with us? We find you to be really sexy and would love to have some fun with you today.” You gave him a flirty smile.
The Brit exhaled a deep breath. He couldn’t believe that his worst day of the month just turned into the best.
“My god, wow! I am truly honored by your invitation, love. I’m definitely down, but shouldn’t we establish some rules beforehand?”
“Yeah, we’ve already discussed this before, so I’ll just tell you now,” Holland responded.
“Before you ask, yes, I give you permission to fuck my girlfriend—not that she needs permission—and you should. She’s got the best fucking pussy in the entire world!”
“Holland!” you scolded him for his crudeness.
“What? I’m only saying it ‘cause it’s true.”
Tangerine sweetly called out your name. “You are a dream come true, darling. What about your little boyfriend over here?”
“Yeah, I’ve had my fair share of guys before. Although, I don’t wanna do the rimjob stuff today; it’s been a while, you know,” Holland admitted.
“Right on, handsome. I’ve never actually been with a guy before, so this’ll be a new experience for me,” Tangerine replied.
“Oh, shit! We’ve gotta welcome you to the club then! C’mon, let’s go to the bedroom,” Holland addressed you both.
———
When you led Tangerine to the bedroom you shared with Holland, you three wasted no time in undressing yourselves. Tangerine went to put his expensive rings and watch on your nightstand before joining you again. You unbuttoned the Brit’s vest and crisp button up shirt, Holland unzipped your trousers and slid it down your thighs, and Tangerine undid Holland’s necktie with expert precision.
When all of your clothes went into a haphazard pile on the floor, you aimlessly rubbed your hands all over Tangerine’s firm abs, enjoying the delicious feeling of his defined muscles. You were curious about the symbol on the gold pendant necklace around his neck, but you probably weren’t going to get an answer from a man who couldn’t even tell you his real name.
Holland had stopped wearing his own wedding ring necklace after you moved in. It now permanently sat inside a picture frame on the bedroom’s bookshelf, enclosed right next to a photo of him and Rosie at their wedding.
You sat down on the edge of the King-sized bed, with Holland on your left and Tangerine on your right. The man on your left licked his lips, while the one on your right ran his hand through his now-disheveled hair.
“C’mon, don’t be shy, guys. Take what you want,” you teased them both.
With your permission, they both dove into either side of your neck. Tangerine sucked on the base of your neck, while Holland tasted the skin beneath your jaw, where he knew you were the most sensitive. You grinned at the two men’s moustaches tickling your skin, and you placed both hands around the back of their necks.
“Wait wait wait, don’t make me wear a scarf all day tomorrow.”
The two men opened their eyes and stopped kissing your neck. You leaned back and slowly pushed the two men together by their necks.
Holland was the one to initiate the kiss. He tilted his head, caressed both sides of his guest’s face with his large hands, and went right for his lips. Tangerine moaned at this new sensation and they tasted each other with a searing intensity. Holland bit the other man’s lower lip and Tangerine groaned in both pain and pleasure. You let go and watched the both of them learn each other’s bodies with a wicked grin on your face.
After a while, Holland pulled away from his lover, a string of saliva still connecting their mouths, to give you attention again. He wrapped his arms around your chest and gave you a deep, loving kiss. You straddled his lap and wrapped your arms around his neck, feeling his cock harden around your unclothed cunt. Your boyfriend moaned into your mouth when you grinded your dripping folds against him.
Tangerine was staring at you both with his now-painfully hard cock. He was in awe of how madly in love you two were. He selfishly wished that he could just ignore the contract he had promised to fulfill and stay in your bed for the rest of the week.
You pulled away from Holland’s lips, gave him a chaste peck on his cheek, and moved to where Tangerine was sitting on the bed.
“Can I kiss you, handsome?” You looked up into his beady, blue eyes.
“Of course you can, sweetheart.” He smirked at both your siren-like sexiness and your sticky sweet adorableness.
You wrapped your arms around the Brit’s neck and kissed him slowly and tenderly, almost as if it was your first date with him. Tangerine initially felt hesitant to enjoy another man’s girlfriend, but he quickly melted into your soft touch and savored the heavenly sensation of your lips against his.
“Can I eat you out, sweetness? I just wanna taste all of you,” The man asked against your lips.
“Go ahead.” You grinned.
“This is gonna be fun!” Holland interjected. You rolled your eyes at him.
You lay down on the soft bed while Tangerine went onto his stomach. He spread your legs open and went down to breathe in the intoxicating, musky scent of your slick. He placed both your legs onto his shoulders and began to suck on your inner lips. He tasted your salty skin before pushing his wet tongue inside you. You cried at the sudden fullness and his cock twitched in anticipation. He expertly moved his tongue in different patterns inside your walls, licking up all of your essence.
“Try sucking on her clit. That’s what really gets her goin’,” Holland blurted while lazily stroking his own cock.
“Mate, this isn’t a bloody baseball game,” Tangerine snarked. He gave you an apologetic kiss to your inner thigh before tasting you again.
As annoyed as he was with the other man, Tangerine did try to suck on your clit with his slick-drenched lips.
“Mmpfh, just like that, Tange. Don’t stop,” you cooed.
Feeling motivated by your compliment, he sucked even harder and flicked the tip of his tongue against your throbbing clit. You wrapped your thighs around his face, wanting to feel him as deep as possible inside you. He lavished your bud over and over again until the pressure inside you burst.
“Oh my god!” you cried intensely, and the man at your cunt happily lapped up all of your cum with his tongue.
“Fucking delicious, sweetheart, but we ain’t done yet. Still need to open ya up,” Tangerine crooned and went up to caress your face with his large hand.
He descended back to your cunt and slowly placed two of his thick fingers into your entrance. You screamed in ecstasy and lifted your hips off of the bed, trying to grind yourself against his digits. He deeply thrusted in and out of your sopping cunt, and you covered your mouth with your palm to not alert any of your neighbors.
He curled his fingers when he found your G spot and rubbed your pulsing clit with his thumb. Unlike your Holland, Tangerine wasn’t as tender with you. He didn’t have many opportunities to enjoy another person’s intimacy, but the assassin still paid close attention to his actions so that he wouldn’t hurt you.
You came once again with a muffled cry into your hand when Tangerine rubbed your clit in just the right way, and you clenched hard around his digits.
“Christ, you’re so fucking tight around me, love. I don’t know how my cock is gonna survive this.” He chuckled and placed a kiss on your temple.
He slid his hand out of your spent cunt and licked his fingers clean. It was the most divine flavor he had tasted in a very long time.
As you lay there to catch your breath, the Brit turned to the American. Tangerine looked at Holland’s blushing red cock and his mouth salivated.
“You wanna get your cock sucked by a guy for the first time?” Holland shamelessly teased him.
“Only if it was anyone but you…” Tangerine bemoaned sarcastically.
It was now Holland’s turn to lie down on his stomach. He leaned his head down and grabbed Tangerine’s still-hard cock with his right hand, giving it languid strokes. With a wet lick of his lips, he took in the other man’s length deep into his eager throat.
“Ooof, yeah, there we go, love. Just like tha’.” He grabbed Holland’s wavy blond hair and guided him further down his cock. Your boyfriend whimpered against his length in reaction, and your cunt started to leak again after hearing him. You squeezed your thighs together; you were so turned on by Holland sharing his love with the mysterious, time-traveling stranger.
Holland bobbed his mouth up and down his cock, tasting his sweat and salty precum. He grinded his own cock against the bedsheets at the same time.
“Oy, that’s enough, playboy. As much as I'd love to cum in your mouth, I gotta attend to your girl.” Tangerine pulled on the blond man’s strands again.
Holland pulled his mouth off of the brunet’s cock and wiped the drool off of his lips with a big smile.
“You got any condoms ‘round here? I usually don’t fuck in the middle of a mission.”
Holland ran a little too quickly to open the nightstand drawer and took out a gold foil packet to give it to Tangerine. He ripped it open, slid the condom over his still-hard length, and threw the packaging into the trash can next to the nightstand.
“Baby, why don’t you get on all fours and we’ll get on either side of you?” Holland softly addressed you.
“Mmm, that sounds really good.” You grinned and bit your lower lip.
You moved to the middle of the bed and did exactly what your lover asked, giving Tangerine a full view of the curves of your ass.
The Brit gave you a teasing slap to your right cheek and watched the soft flesh jiggle. He slid his cock up and down your dripping cunt before fully entering you.
You loudly moaned at the addictive fullness inside you. Tangerine was girthier than your Holland and had a slight upwards curve.
“That’sss it, darling. Take me all in,” he encouraged you. “You’re bloody right, March. She does have the best fuckin’ pussy I’ve ever had.”
“I never lie about my girl,” Holland responded with a chuckle.
He moved to kneel in front of you, his thick erection right in your face. You held onto the base with your hand and began to suck on his sensitive tip, running your tongue over the opening.
Holland let out a throaty growl. “Always so perfect for me, angel.” He ran his hand through your hair, silently encouraging you to continue sucking him.
At the same time, Tangerine thrusted into you at an intense pace, causing you to shove Holland’s cock deeper into your throat and whimper against him.
Another wicked idea came to Holland’s mind. He reached over to caress Tangerine's face once more and made out with him as he was fucking your face.
You could hear the wet, smacking sounds of their lips from above you. God, did you wish that you had another pair of eyes at the back of your head.
Tangerine pulled away from the heated kiss to reach around your hip and give calculated rubs to your aching clit. You squeezed again and again around his length. You came once again as he still fucked into your tired cunt. When Holland felt you groan against his own cock, he was so close to bursting inside your warm throat.
“Ahh, fuck! I’m gonna cum soon, baby. Can I cum inside your throat?”
You looked up at him with adoring eyes and nodded your head. When his dazzling blue eyes met yours, he came right into your throat. You eagerly swallowed all of his cum and pulled your mouth out of his dick to lick up the dripping excess from his tip.
Tangerine’s head felt dizzy with euphoria when he watched the incredibly hot sight in front of him. He pulled out of you and removed the condom from his length, quickly throwing it into the trash can. He roughly stroked himself until hot ropes of cum spilled onto the small of your back. He groaned at the erotic, almost artistic sight of his ribbons of white cum against your sweaty, glistening skin.
“Bloody fuckin’ hell, that’s a beautiful sight right there,” Tangerine moaned. “You gonna clean her up, loverboy?”
Holland let out a dry chuckle, tilted his head, and raised an amused eyebrow. He lay down on his stomach and darted out his tongue to press onto your body.
“Ahh, fuck!” You started to moan softly and your tired cunt began to clench around thin air when you felt Holland lick hot, wet stripes across your skin, swiping his tongue up to taste all of Tangerine’s essence. You pressed your face into the sheets, your lips ghosting the fabric.
“There’s a good boy,” the assassin crooned.
“Shut the fuck up before I kick you out of this house,” Holland snarked back. He then placed a chaste kiss onto your lower back, almost as an apology for being rude to your treasured guest who just made you cum three times in an hour.
“Come here, sweetheart, I’ve got you.” Holland’s hands gently grabbed you by your waist, pulling you up to rest on top of him. You laid your head over his heart and rested your hand on his chest.
He directed his gaze towards the curly haired man. “Why don’t you join us, Orange?”
“You’re really lucky that I find you and your girl to be incredibly hot,” Tangerine snarked before joining the cuddle pile.
You couldn’t help but chuckle against Holland’s chest. “Play nice with our guest, Holls.”
Tangerine lay beside you, snaked an arm around your hips, and pressed his chin against your shoulder blade. He softly moaned when he breathed in the sweet, heady combination of your shampoo, perfume, and sweat. You three held onto each other and rode out the dopamine drop together. You were in your own little paradise—free of judgment, free of rules, free of guilt.
———
After blissfully lying there for a while, you invited them both to join you in the shower. It was almost hilarious how the two men tried to squeeze into the bathtub with you in the middle. Holland excitedly rubbed soap bubbles onto your breasts while Tangerine kneeled to carefully wash your sensitive pussy and your heavenly soft thighs.
Afterwards, you three helped each other to dry off and redress in the day’s clothes. You went back to the living room and lazily watched TV with both men sitting on either side of you.
After thirty minutes, you heard the door unlock. Healy, Lemon, and Holly were back from their hangout at the bar. Even though Holly was technically not allowed to be at the establishment, the bar owner knew Healy and March by name and always kept a case of Yoo-hoo for her.
“‘Sup, guys? How was the bar?” Holland turned his head.
“It was splendid! We had a lotta fu— I mean frickin’ hilarious conversations.” Lemon was a cold assassin, but he still wanted to respect the young girl standing next to him.
“What are your thoughts on our two new friends, mate?” Tangerine asked his brother.
“Well, Healy here is a Henry: hardworking, strong, and no-nonsense, and Miss Holly is an Emily: smart, caring, and fearless.” Lemon enthusiastically explained.
Healy looked at the couch and raised a curious eyebrow but said nothing. He saw that you three still had wet hair and Holland’s tie was slightly crooked. Oh, to be young and in love again…
“So… did you guys come up with a plan on how these two are gonna go home?” Healy asked you three.
Tangerine coughed into his fist. “Right, yeah… we discussed a lot of possibilities, and basically, we believe that the only way we can return home is to go through that back entrance door again.” Both you and Holland nodded and silently thanked him for covering all three of your asses.
“I see. Well, better get to it then,”
“How about [Y/N] and I take these two back to our office and you stay with Holly? I don’t want you guys to get sucked into the whole time travel portal thing too.” Holland nervously replied.
“Good idea, March. We’ll be eagerly waiting to hear from you.” Healy nodded.
Lemon and Tangerine said their goodbyes to Healy and Holly, got their weapons back, and the four of you walked to Holland’s car and drove back to the office. When you all faced the back door again, you held onto Holland’s arm while you watched the two brothers approach the portal.
“Thank you two for everything, really. I had a really great time today.” Tangerine gave you a quick, cheeky wink and you nodded with a big smile on your face.
“Take care, you two, and have a Merry Christmas!” You waved at them.
“You too, love. Until we meet again!” Tangerine felt a tinge of sadness in his chest, but he’d never forget the kindness that you and Holland showed him today.
When the brothers walked through the door, they were greeted with the dark London midnight sky again.
“Shhh! Nah, bruv. We’ve still got a mission to do, remember?” Tangerine aggressively whispered back.
“Oh, right. Should we check to see if the portal’s still open?” Lemon whispered back.
Tangerine turned around to face the door once more. As much as he wanted to go back to your year, he still had a lot of work to do. He slowly opened the door to see that your office had been replaced with the real, dingy warehouse. He got out his gun and nodded to Lemon. It was time to finish the job.
10 fallen bodies later, the assassins finally cleared out the warehouse. When Tangerine called his handler to tell him about the successful completion, he learned that his next mission was going to be on a bullet train headed from Tokyo to Kyoto. My life is just full of surprises, isn’t it? the man wondered.
Hi!! Can I request tangerine edging the reader at a really nice (dimly lit) restaurant? She’s been wanting to try it out all month but then is now in a rush to get home but he makes her wait until after dessert and keeps teasing her while driving home. One hand on the wheel and the other on her. If you’re comfortable, it could lead to car sex. He pulls over somewhere and he just naaaasty LOL.
Loveeeeee your vision. Hope you like the outcome x
Impatient
Tangerine x f!reader
Theme: edging/car sex
Warnings: light swearing, use of petnames, unprotected sex, fingering, sub-ish reader.
Word count: ~1.4K
Your heartbeat thrums in your ears. Doing your very best to keep your breathing as steady as possible. When a shaky puff of air leaves your lips, your boyfriend's voice cuts through the thundering sound. "Quiet, or I'll stop," he murmurs only for you to hear. You swallow thickly, eyes darting around the dimly rit restaurant. Guests are busying themselves with their food, their company. No one glances your way. No one seems to realize his hand is under the table, busy with you. Truth is, you've been begging for this. Suggested it a few weeks ago. Tangerine agreed after the third time you brought it up, but never told you when or where. Now here you are, with trembling thighs under the perfectly white ironed tablecloth. It's a nice restaurant - fancy. So, naturally, you're wearing a fancy dress. One that gave Tangerine ideas. Easy access, perfect for his hand to slip between, unbeknownst to the rest of the world. He's touching you over your panties. Rubbing up and down, then slow circles until he feels a wet patch bloom into the soft fabric. A sly smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. "There we go," he whispers before taking a casual sip of his whiskey. You had barely finished dinner before his ministrations started. A friend of yours actually recommended this restaurant to you a few months ago. Saying they had the absolute best dessert menu. Though, as good as dessert sounds right now, it's nothing compared to the unbearable ache between your legs. "Dessert, love?" Tangerine hands you the menu, which you take from him and immediately toss it aside. "We need to go home. Now," you plead. He huffs out a small laugh, shaking his head. "Not yet, darlin'. Heard the desserts 'ere are bloody good. Be a shame if I didn't give that a try, now, wouldn't it?" You whine. Soft enough not to draw any attention, but he heard it. Of course he did. "Patience, darlin'. After dessert, you'll get what you want, hm?" His fingers now dip beneath your panties, finally making contact with bare skin. His rings are a cold contrast to his warm fingers. A soft gasp leaves your lips, hips starting to writhe. He's quick to build you up. The muscles in your thighs pull tighter and tighter as you near your climax. Lips pressed together to prevent any sounds from coming out.
It's enough for him to rid you of the sensations, withdrawing his fingers alltogether. You let out a frustrated breath, glaring at him with a look that speaks louder than words. The waitress chooses that moment to walk past your table. "Would you like to order any dessert?" the young woman chirps politely as she gathers your empty plates. "Two lava cakes, please," Tangerine gives her a quick polite nod. "Sure thing, I'll bring that right up." You let out a slow, controlled breath through your nose. "I'm not hungry," you mutter as the waitress walks toward the open kitchen. "Yeah, ya are," Tangerine huffs, genuinely amused. "In fact, you're starvin'," he continues. "Not what I meant," you grit. He smirks. "Doll." His hand grabs the underside of your chair and scoots you a little closer to him. "You're the one who wanted to give this a go, eh?" His voice is firm, but affectionate. Almost fond. He finds it amusing, not allowing you a release makes you grumpier than he expected and he's not even thinking about apologizing for it. "I'll take care of ya at home. Proper." He kisses your temple briefly. A silent promise.
The cakes are neatly placed in front of both of you. The corresponding cutlery along with it. "Eat up," he's already digging in his own cake, warm, steamy chocolate pooling out of it. Reluctantly, you eat your cake. The taste overruling your need for a few seconds, because yeah, the desserts are in fact very tasty. Tangerine smiles to himself when he sees you enjoying your dessert. Almost inhaling it, he isn't sure if it's because you like it that much, or if you wanna go home as soon as possible. Both, probably. Once finished, his own impatience shows through how quickly he stands up and tosses a few bills on the table without counting them. You follow him out the restaurant. Big strides eating up the distance toward the car. He opens your door, rounds the car and gets in. The engine growls to life before he peels out of the parking lot with a tiny squeak of the wheels.
The ride home feels like it's taking hours. You want nothing more than to finally get that release he's been denying you all night. Your boyfriend's hand slips between your thighs once more, one hand on the wheel, the other slowly tracing its way up your legs. Without hesitation, you tug up your dress a little higher on your hips, lifting one foot up the passenger seat to give him better access. He chuckles to himself. Eyes on the road, but he sees what you're doing from the corner of his eye. "Impatient," he murmurs as his ring-clad fingers finally brush your folds. Your head falls back against the headrest with a dull thud. "Please." The sound tinged with nothing but desperation. When he slips a finger inside and you moan? His own need swallows him whole. Those tented trousers. The way his jaw is clenched so tight he could crack a tooth. With a sudden turn, he stops on the side of the road, pulls his hand back from you only to undo both your seatbelts with terrifying speed. Next is his seat; he yanks the handle up and creates enough room for you to sit on top of him. Your mind catches up quick, already riding your dress up all the way and tugging your panties to the side. The driver's seat is now almost fully flat as you crawl over his thighs. He helps you with his trousers, freeing his hardened length by shoving the fabric down just so. "God- I need you," you breathe as he grips your waist and lines you up with himself. "I know," he grunts, eyes focused on aligning you right. Only when his eyes meet yours, you sink down, finally enveloping him the way you've been craving all night. The moan you both let out comes simultaneously. It takes a few seconds of adjusting before you start riding him, your hand propped up against the window for leverage as you bounce up and down. The seat creaks underneath your combined weight, neither cares. Tangerine's eyes nearly roll to the back of his head, his hands steady on your hips to help guide your rhythm. Occasional curses slip past his restraint. A quiet 'fuck' mixes with your louder moans and the ongoing creaking of the seat. The car rocks just slightly with your movements, bypassers would definitely be able to tell what's going on, but you're both too swept up in each other. He tightens his grip on you as his hips now snap up from underneath, matching your downward bounce with each hard upward thrust of his own. The mewl he pulls from your lips is pure music to his ears. He does it again. And again. Until you fall apart in his lap. A quick few rubs of his thumb on your clit and you're done for. The tight coil inside snaps with a sound that could've easily been right out of a porn-film. Rhythmic pulses hug your walls tighter around him, triggering his own release. With a growled out moan, he spills deep inside you as his grip keeps you seated until every tremor has fully faded.
Your hand slides down the window, drawing finger-shaped stripes on the fogged up glass. Both panting like you just ran a marathon. That stupidly adorable dopey smile appears on his face. The one that shows only when he's satisfied to the bone. "Good?" he breathes, never taking his eyes off your face. You kiss him. Soft, lingering pecks on his warm lips. "Fuckin' amazing," you smile into the kiss.
Second chances | Tangerine x Reader | T, Multi-Chapter
AO3: Otaku_girl | Fics only account: @otaku-girl-ao3-fics | ATJ character masterlist | Main: Otaku-girl-ao3 masterlist
Fandom: Bullet Train
Rating: T
Chapters: 6
Summary: “Hello?”
“I’m fuckin’ comin’. Impatient bloody–” The man in the pinstripe suit cuts off abruptly as he rounds the corner, leaning heavily on his cane. He straightens as soon as he sees you, eyes narrowing, lips pressing into a thin, unimpressed line. “Who the fuck’re you?”
“That… is an interesting take on customer service.”
~
You own the cheerful little bakery next door. Tan owns the suspiciously empty bookshop that just opened up. You bring him cake. He makes you read Russian literature. His brother watches on in amusement. Somehow, this becomes flirting.
Or: a cosy bakery-and-bookshop Tan/Reader romance featuring cake, Russian literature, an interfering twin, and probably more bloodstains than there should be. 🎂📚
Author’s notes: So! Soooo… I’m going to preface this with: this is n o t the ‘First Time-esque’ novel-length thing I have planned. B u t. If you’re a fan of my softer romance/fluffier romcom fics, like new Twins headcanons and lore sprinkled throughout, and like the idea of a post-BT setting with consequences but an overall soft romance vibe? This’ll be the mini-series for you.
Reader is gendered, but no other features are given (and absolutely no use of y/n, as always). This was supposed to be written for the FicWip 5k, but it got a little out of hand. 😂 Happy ending guaranteed.
(...and that is not an euphemism. Unless y’all want an epilogue. 😂)
Second chances
Chapter 1
“He’s still at it?”
You glance up from the till, eyes flicking to window, though you know you won’t be able to see him from here. You know immediately who Jeanie means. You had known within a week of The Binding Room opening that the man next door is either the worst bookseller in London, or the most committed one.
The bookshop next door has no customers, no advertising, and no obvious reason to still exist. You assume this means that the man running it is either stubborn or sentimental. Or, as Jeanie once suggested, he’s running some kind of money laundering scheme next door. But really, isn’t that all vape shops and import sweets and barbers these days?
Nobody looking for a lucrative, believable business opportunity in this day and age would look at a bookstore and say, ah! Now there’s a great way to earn money.
“He’s nothing if not dedicated,” you say as you fiddle with the straps of your apron, the hiss of the coffee machine behind you filling your quaint little café.
Thursdays aren’t exactly your busy day, and you won’t see the first eager customers signalling the start of your lunch rush – as modest as it may be – for at least another hour.
The narrow, dusty store next door had been closed for as long as Butter & Bloom has been open. You had been equal parts excited and nervous to see the new ‘Sold’ sign pop up in the newspaper-covered, cracked window. Another little addition to your row of out-of-the-way shops could help really give the place a boost, but the potential for another café or more specialised bakery opening was enough to make you start double-checking your books with the kind of unease that only a small business owner could understand. It’s left you staring out of the window for more than your fair share of sleepless nights.
You watched the transformation with the kind of nosy curiosity that always happens in such small, tight-knit communities. Friedrich over in Blumengarten three doors down had a fiver on the new owners gutting the place and turning it into an estate agents. Over the weeks that followed, the dust-covered windows were cleaned, the cracked paint stripped away, rotting awning pulled down, and shelves that sat empty and broken for years were replaced with sturdier fare.
You expected a grand opening – you all did. Some kind of announcement. Maybe a crowd of eager customers waiting outside on the first morning, or some self-proclaimed BookTok influencers flocking to the quaint store with its old-fashioned awning and vintage vibe.
Instead, there had only been quiet.
Boxes carried in. Furniture rearranged. The occasional flicker of movement behind the glass. You never really see anyone coming or going. Well, other than him; the man in the pinstripe suit and expensive shoes, with dark curls that always look like he’s run a hand through them in frustration, and a permanent scowl that suggests the world has done something to personally offend him.
Now that you know who you’re looking for, you notice him coming and going, though nowhere near as often as you would expect. He must live in the little flat above the store, just like you do above Butter & Bloom. Still, it’s impossible to miss him; he moves with the faintest hitch in his step, a barely noticeable limp that you only caught because you are apparently the kind of person who notices things like this about strangers. Which, really, is how you end up bringing him a coffee in the first place.
A little brass bell tinkles above you as you make your way inside, two paper coffee cups in hand, and your best customer service smile in place. You’ve left it too long as it is to make a good first impression but, well, you might as well do your best to make up for it. In all honesty, you hadn’t been entirely certain that the store even was open at first.
“Hello?”
The first thing that strikes you is the colour. Deep navy walls swallow the early morning light, while dark mahogany shelves loom above you, tall and imposing like the library of some crumbling country estate still too caught up in its own history to realise the fate that has befallen it. Brass lamps are tucked between the stacks, polished to perfection, though nowhere near enough to dispel all of the dark little corners and crevices. It smells like old paper and cedar, with the faint trace of something richer beneath it. Expensive cologne perhaps, or maybe good whisky. And, you realise, nose twitching as you barely hold back a sneeze, bleach.
The whole shop feels as if it is suspended between two opposing ideals: a second-hand bookshop where you might find a battered paperback or two for a couple of quid, and a private library tucked behind the door of a Mayfair townhouse, filled to the brim with the kind of rare first editions you wouldn’t dare breathe too heavily around, much less touch.
You take a cautious step towards the nearest bookcase. Is that a hand-written price tag? Squinting down at it, you take a neat step back. That is far too many zeros to be within arm’s reach of your coffee.
Skirting past an armchair that looks both well-worn and completely decorative, you make your way towards the safety of the counter. There’s no sign of any other customers, or the owner himself. You place the coffees neatly down, glancing left, then right. If the layout is anything like your store, the door to the right is more likely to lead to a dinky back room and a narrow staircase upstairs, which leaves the one to the left as more space, presumably for even more bookcases.
There’s a little brass bell on the counter, the kind seen in fancy hotels from decades past. You ring it without thought, the sound loud enough in the stillness to echo – and to bring a wince to your face. Ok, that was louder than you expected.
“I’m fuckin’ comin’. Impatient bloody–” The man in the pinstripe suit cuts off abruptly as he rounds the corner, leaning heavily on a cane. You’ve been close enough to hear him speak before. The cockney accent is unexpected, but, you can’t help but think, it suits him.
He straightens as soon as he sees you, blue eyes narrowing, lips pressing into a thin, unimpressed line. “Who the fuck’re you?”
You blink.
“That… is an interesting take on customer service,” you say, careful to keep your tone light and teasing. His expression doesn’t flicker. You take a step forward, offering your hand as you give your name. “I’m next door. Butter & Bloom? I thought I’d drop off something to drink and introduce myself. You’re welcome to come over anytime. We have a bit of an unofficial local business meetup once a month, if you’d like to join us. The next one–”
You watch as he peers into the coffee balanced on the counter, grimacing at the bitter smell. Eyes widening, mouth hanging open, you watch as he picks it up and neatly sweeps it into – you assume – a waste paper basket behind the counter, not even bothering to give it a try.
“Local busybody, eh? No need ta pretend ta play nice, luv. I’ll keep ta myself, an’ you lot do the same, yeah?” His smile doesn’t reach anywhere near his eyes. One hand slips in his trouser pocket, the other resting on the countertop. Faintly, you can hear a phone ringing. He makes no move towards it. “Was there anythin’ else?”
Swallowing past the lump in your throat, you leave your coffee where it is. The thought of trying to drink it has lost its appeal. Back straight, head held high, you force yourself to meet his gaze despite the urge to slink away. You aren’t about to be run out of here due to the offense of trying to be nice.
“Do you have any recommendations? I was thinking of picking up some light reading. Maybe cosy crime? Or dark–”
He doesn’t even let you finish before he’s pulling a book out from beneath the dark wood countertop, then a second, the sound of them landing with twin thuds that echo throughout the room.
Crime and Punishment by Fyodor Dostoevsky. A Hero of Our Time by Mikhail Lermontov. You stare at both of them blankly. They aren’t exactly the kind of light reading you had in mind.
“Er… did you have something else?”
“No,” he says bluntly.
“Right. I’ll just… take this one, then?” You don’t know why you say it. You don’t know why you reach for the novel – the Lermontov; you can’t quite bring yourself to pick up the Dostoevsky that looks as if it might give the Yellowpages a run for its money in both length and wit.
You must be imagining it; it almost looks like the corner of his mouth ticks up with a sharp little smile, but by the time you’ve pulled your phone out to pay, it’s gone.
“Cash only.” He goes as far as to tap on a small sign taped to the antique register.
Who the fuck still takes cash, you want to ask, but you know there are plenty of regulars who still prefer it to paying by card. You have a handful of them yourself, still clinging to paper money in a digital age. Not that you’re complaining; they, at least, have a habit of tipping on occasion, even if it is just a handful of spare coins they don’t want to deal with.
Maybe there was something to that money laundering rumour after all.
“Right. I’ll… be back, then,” you say awkwardly, pausing for a beat too long before you make your way towards the door. Behind you, you hear a snort.
“You do that, luv.”
Irritation sparks as his words sink in. Hand resting on the doorknob, you turn back in time to see tattooed knuckles brushing through dark curls. “I’m not your luv. There’s no need to be such a–a”
“Arsehole?” he supplies helpfully, the smug tilt to his lips back again. You feel something in your chest snap.
“I was going to say cunt.”
Wide blue eyes are the last thing you see before you neatly close the door behind you, the bell jangling angrily in place. Anger fuels you all the way back to the counter, as Jeanie watches you return with even wider eyes and a look dripping with the need to know what the hell happened with the guy next door.
Could I please request a HC about how Tangerine would flirt and get the reader riled up at inappropriate times and places? Like finding ways to discreetly grab her ass at the grocery store, run his hand up between her legs at dinner, or mindlessly cop a feel at the beach when she was only coming in for a peck on the lips?
Riling You Up (HC)
First of all, he'd love this. Not to rile you up per se (though yeah, he likes it), but also because he's simply possessive. And huge on physical touch. So you bet he'd take every opportunity to cop a feel.
Sneaks up on you when you least expect it. Like when you're grabbing something from a higher shelf in the grocery store he'll simply slide an arm around your waist from behind, then grabs the thing you're reaching for with his other one. Nips your ear and presses a kiss just below it just to tease.
Might also use you as a shield if he's turned on and it's visible through his trousers. Likely keeps you flush or sits you on his lap. Grumbles something without malice about how it's your fault.
And when he's turned on? He'll make it his personal mission to get you riled up too; cheeky butt-grabs when you're walking next to him on the sidewalk. Or a quick tap on your arse when you walk in front of him. Even a few dirty promises in your ear when he can't help himself.
Doesn't give a fuck if there's other people around. Probably even likes the fact that you have to be discreet. On dinner dates he's definitely not above sliding a hand up between your thighs. Especially if you're wearing a dress or a skirt for easy access. Claims he's just stroking your leg affectionately, while getting you hot 'n bothered.
And if you're on his lap (say, at a gathering with friends, not enough seats, he'll sit you on his lap) he'll absolutely give your chest a squeeze when no one's looking. Keeps his arms wrapped around your waist and cops a feel out of sheer curiosity what it does to you.
Also isn't above prolonging a peck you give him. You could lean in for a quick kiss when in a public setting and he would simply chase your lips. Fingers digging in your cheeks as he kisses you properly, bystanders be damned.
Plays coy. Lies through his teeth when you accuse him of deliberate grabs and kisses.
"Swear I wasn't tryna get you goin', love."
Chuckles low and proud when you scold him for all of it. Your little hissed outburst only proof to him it's working and you're just as bothered as he's been all day.
"Well now that you're all needy 'n wantin', I might as well help y'out. How's that sound?"
And yeah, the session at home after a day like that isn't one to forget soon.
hi!! my favorite niche personal headcanon is that tangerine’s favorite artist is lady gaga 👀✨ knows every word to bad romance for sure🙂↕️🙂↕️🙂↕️
HAHAHAH i'd never thought about that but it sure feels right! can you imagine him singing bad romance in his mind as he's walking in the bullet train? he'd even move his hips accordingly to the rhythm
Would love to start seeing see some more mature content on your account! Can you give a a list/HC of what you think all of Tan’s kinks are and how nasty he would be in bed?
I do have a HC with spicy Tan stuff if you haven't seen it yet, but I made one with what I think his specific kinks could be <3
Call me insane but I feel like this bastard loves to smoke during sex. Loves it more when you do it too. Gently blowing smoke in each others face, kissing it out your mouth etc. It's sensual to him.
Said it in my other HC as well, but he's huge on praise. He's a chatty bastard so he'll shower you with praise when he feels you enjoying it too. He loves both receiving it and giving it. Bonus points if you look at him in the eyes when it happens.
Dirty talk. He's into it if it works for you. Goes hand in hand with the praise. Will call you pet names for sure. It's in his British nature.
Could very well have a thing for inexperienced lovers, because he's not afraid of showing them the ropes. Likes it when he gets to teach. He's a control freak after all, so having someone look at him for directions is right up his alley.
Edging. Circles back to his love for control. Likes to dominate by deciding when and where you're allowed to come. An oddly specific detail popped up in my mind for this, but I feel like he'd be fully clothed and you'd be naked. There's something about it that deepens the power imbalance when you're vulnerable and he's not.
Goes wild if he sees you in any of his football merch. Has a West Ham sweater, will literally go feral if he sees you wearing it.
Is too impatient for extended teasing, but a little is appreciated. Likes it when you grind in his lap still clothed, then slowly strip for him.
I think he has a lingerie fetish. He's always impeccably dressed himself and would likely appreciate a good set on you. Especially when it's complete with stockings, suspenders and heels. Loves to shag you in it without taking it off.
Hair pulling for him goes both ways. Loves to tug on yours when he has you bent over for him, but also loves it when you fist his curls. ESPECIALLY when he's going down on you.
Fighting/wrestling could get him going. It's a powerplay he enjoys participating in. Loves it when you fight for dominance too.
Has a kink for your chest, especially when you ride him and they bounce. Can't stop touching and kissing them.
Might have a slight pain kink. Not in the form of actual hits, but more like a deep hickey sucked in a place no one else gets to see. Or a bite with a little more force than necessary. Nails dragging down his back etc. Can trigger a more animalistic side of him.
Loves watching you suck his fingers clean after they've been inside you. Especially when your mouth gives his rings attention too.
Does enjoy being submissive too. Letting go of control is hard for him, so he'll likely only do it with someone he trusts rather than a quick hook-up.
Hi all good about Ives! Thank you for letting me know. If anything changes, please let me know. Can you please do a virgin female reader with tangerine? They’ve been dating for awhile with lots of sexual tension. After a romantic dinner out, she stays over tangerines apt for the weekend to finally hook up with them. It’s super smutty - passionate, erotic, loving, and consensual. the reader wears a full lingerie set. Tangerine makes her feel beautiful, loved, pleasured, and safe. Thank you so much!
This one turned out way longer than I anticipated OOPS.
First Time
Tangerine x virgin f!reader
Theme: smut
Warnings: oral (f receiving), protected sex, swearing, pet names, dirty talk, praise... lmk if I missed something.
Word count: 1.9K
Four months ago he asked you to be his girlfriend. Traditionally, obviously. He took you on a dinner date, pulled your chair out like a proper gentleman, even gave you his arm to hold when you walked side by side. Then proceeded to bring you home without any expectations. But he did pop the question there, right in front of your doorstep. He often still thinks about the way your face lit up when you said yes.
Tangerine knew you weren't experienced when he first started seeing you. Which is also the reason he never pushed further than anything you initiated. Kept himself in line, following your pace. It never really went past making out and some heavy petting. But lately? Your mind has been drifting, wondering what it'd be like. With him. He's sat across from you now. The dimly lit dining room casts a warm glow on his sharp features. He's wearing his classic blue suit, the one he wore on your first date as well. Your eyes are glued on him; the way his chain swings lightly when he leans forward on his elbows, the way his brows pull together while reading the menu, his slicked back hair that betrays how much effort he put into looking good for you tonight. Without much thought, your teeth sink into your bottom lip, mind racing with thoughts that send a tingle through your core. He notices, of course he does. "Stop bitin' that lip," he mutters without looking up. He's not angry, just distracted. Then you cross your leg over the other under the table to relieve some pressure, the action masked as casualty. When your foot gives his shin a tease, slowly dragging up and down in an almost innocent manner, his head snaps up. A blink. Once, twice. Your boyfriend was clearly not expecting this to happen now. He clears his throat while a shaky hand loosens his tie a nudge. "Darlin'," he starts, trying not to lose his mind. "What 'r you doin'?" He licks his lips once, trying to gauge your intentions. You've flirted before, sure. But he isn't oblivious to that hungry look in your eyes. "Nothing," you shrug innocently. "We're having a nice time, no?" His jaw works. Did he misread you? Your foot trails higher on his leg, pulling up his trouser leg a little as you go. "What's with the playin' footsie then?" he grits, feeling his trousers become a little too tight for his liking. "And for cryin' out loud, stop bitin' that lip. It's makin' me lose me mind." You chuckle, finally relenting. "Bloody minx," he mutters to himself, shifting uncomfortably in his chair. "You still stayin' at mine this weekend, doll?" He changes the subject. You nod, taking a sip of your drink. Deliberately, you left out the fact you pulled out a black lacey lingerie set. Matched with a gorgeous pair of stockings and suspenders. You bought it a while ago, wanting to save it for your first night with him. One you now finally feel ready for.
After dinner, Tangerine does what he always does. Pays, tips generously, guides you out the restaurant with a steady grip on your lower back and holds your hand on the way home. His thumb rubs absently over your knuckles as you walk. The door opens with a smooth flick of his wrist and a soft creak of the hinges. You've been at his flat before, but never stayed the night until now. He offers you a drink, already pulling out two glasses from the cabinet. When you don't answer, he turns around and spots that look in your eyes again. He stills, glasses forgotten on the counter. Without another word, you close the distance and kiss him. One he reciprocates with equal fervor. Rough hands grip your hips, yours tangle in his hair, messing up his slicked back strands. "God-," he breathes between hot presses of his mouth. He’s been starving for this and you know it. Your hands wander lower, palming him through his pinstripe trousers, his hardness undeniable through the thin fabric. The glasses clatter and almost fall when he pushes you against the counter top, never breaking the kiss once. His lips move hungrily over yours, tongue swiping gently but persistently against your own. When you suddenly pull his belt loose, he lets out a low, controlled breath through his nose, watching your nimble fingers work. His lips crash back onto yours. A full body shudder runs through Tangerine when you softly moan into his mouth. "Fuck, doll. We gotta stop 'ere if you ain't ready for more, yeah?" he breathes. The bulge in his trousers now borderline uncomfortable with how hard he is. But your comfort means more to him, and he won't go further if this isn't what you want as well.
You shake your head. "I'm ready," you murmur while pressing kisses along his jawline. "I want this. Want you." His breath stutters, just once. So he did read you right earlier. Eyes squeezed shut for a moment before he finds the words. "Fuck. You sure?" his hand grips your jaw, making you face him. The blue irises are nearly swallowed up by his dark pupils. You nod, the hunger not lost in your eyes either. Then he’s moving; hoisting you up by your thighs, nearly dragging you to his bedroom. "Lemme take care of you proper, then," he grunts while his long legs eat up the distance. You land with a soft bounce on his nearly made bed. He strips you slowly, reverently. Nothing is rushed. Always making sure you're okay by glancing at your expression. When you're in nothing but lingerie and he's stripped down to his boxers, his breath catches. "Christ," he speaks, voice hoarse with both lust and admiration. "You look so fuckin' good in that, poppet." His calloused hand drags up one of your thighs, spreading you gently. His abs flex when he crawls over you, kissing you deeply as he settles between your thighs.
The build-up is deliciously slow. Teasing. Sweet nothings whispered in each others ears. Then his fingers travel down your chest, tracing the swell of one breast before it dips lower over your stomach. His eyes flick to yours for permission before he hooks his fingers in the waistband of your panties. Then slides them down your hips, over your legs. Warm lips touch your hipbone, lower, down to your thigh. Tangerine spreads your legs a little further, dipping his head to where you want him. His only mission now to show you how good intimacy can feel. "You ever been touched 'ere, sweetheart?" he looks up from between your legs, drawing feather light circles with his finger on your pubic bone. You shake your head shyly. "Can I?" his pupils dialate even further with heat if that's even possible. When you nod, he goes slow. So slow. Starts with a soft, experimental flick of his tongue on your clit. Learning you, your body, your taste, your preferences. He wants to get this right for you. Doesn't take him long to find what works. Soft, wet laps of his tongue through your folds that make you mewl out soft sounds. Utterly overwhelmed in the best way when his fingers join the mix, carefully curling inside while his mouth closes over you. He can't help but grind down into the mattress while hearing you fall apart for him. The moment his name falls from your lips, he surges back over your body, letting you taste yourself on his lips. Boxers discarded with rough efficiency. "You want me to...?" you start, ready to return the favor, but he cuts you off with a whispered 'no'. Not rejection, just pure need for something he’s been thinking about for months. "Need t'be inside ya, if you let me."
He kisses you deeply as he fumbles in the bedside drawer for a condom. The kiss breaks only to roll it on himself. Back between your legs, he slides his hand up and down your thigh, soothing any nervousness. "If you ain't comfortable, we're stoppin'. Y'hear?" He leans forward, the seriousness in his eyes giving you an odd sense of safety. You nod. "Ready, baby?" he rasps against your lips, the tip of him gently nudging your entrance. "Hold onto me," he gently instructs, giving a small nod when your hands find a place on his shoulderblades. Then, he slowly but surely sinks inside, just a few inches at first, letting you adjust. An involuntary moan slips out of you, nails digging into his back on instinct. A rough grunt escapes him, the tightness, the warmth, your nails in his back - it's a lot for him too. "Y'alright?" he kisses your neck, trying to distract you from the foreign feeling. "Yeah," you pant softly "It's a lot." He hums in your neck. "I know, sweetheart. But you're doing so well, though, ain't you? My gorgeous girl." The praise sends a shiver down your spine, your core clenching around him in response. He chooses that moment to sink in all the way, keeping an eye on your face. And when your features twist into pleasure, he finally moans too. His hips find a steady pace. Not too deep or too fast, completely adjusted to how you sound. If you moan louder at a certain angle? He focuses there. Figuring out exactly what pace and depth you love the most. When more moans follow, he swallows them, kissing you deeply while his hips keep their steady pace. The soft sound of skin on skin only adding to the sensation.
Then he rolls you both over so you're straddling him. Giving you a chance to ride him if you want. "I'll help," he immediately rasps when he sees the uncertainty in your eyes. He sits up against the headboard with you in his lap. Strong hands on your waist to help lift you up and down on him. You find a rhythm pretty quick. "Look at ya. Fuckin' beautiful," he moans. To make sure you get there too, he slips his hand down between you, making sure you grind against his fingers with each bounce. Another filthy whimper rips from your throat before your voice breaks on his name. You're close. He can feel it in how your bounces have sped up. How your breath comes in short puffs. Eyes squeezed shut. "C'mon," he encourages, "I've got ya." White hot pleasure crashes over you, your head buries in his neck when you let go around him, your moan mixes with his grunts. He bounces you once last time on him before stilling, his orgasm ripping through him like a wave he can't escape. The veins in his neck pop, eyes squeezed shut when his lips part on a groan. He chants your name in whispered breaths like a prayer before pressing kisses all over your face. "You okay?" he breathes, searching your face. When you press a loving kiss to his lips and that happy little "yeah" comes out? He lets himself fall backward on the mattress, taking you with him. His arms wrap around your back, keeping you close. "That... was amazing," is all you manage. He smiles. Properly. A warmth floods his chest. He presses a final kiss to your temple, letting you slowly drift off in his safe embrace.
