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storiesforallfandoms · 2 months ago

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brown jacket and a thick accent ~ tangerine;bullet train

word count: 3124

request?: no

description: who's the cute boy with the brown jacket and the thick accent? maybe it's all in her head, but she thinks they'd have really good bed chem

pairing: tangerine x female!reader

warnings: swearing, smut (fingering, oral m receiving, protected sex (tangerine isn't risking nothing and neither should you!), multiple orgasms, aftercare)

masterlist (one, two, three)

based on this song (but y'all probably guessed that lmao)

I noticed his suit first. It was hard not to notice. No one ever casually wore a three piece suit. But he was, and he looked damn good in that suit.

And then I heard him speak.

He was walking past, grumbling some complaints to his companion, and I almost spun around to ask him to speak to me more. He had the hottest British accent I had ever heard. Like, panty dropping hot.

Soon enough, though, he was gone, and I was sure I'd never see him again because of this stupid long bullet train.

But then, I was at the bar in my Kyoto hotel when I heard a familiar voice down the bar ask, "Whisky on the rocks please, love."

When I looked, there he was. Shedding a brown tweed jacket to reveal his blue suit. The bartender placed his drink in front of him and he mumbled a soft "Thank you." I tore my eyes away from him, trying not to seem like a creep for staring. But it was like he was a magnet, because my eyes were drawn back to him very quickly. Trying to look away seemed impossible now. I was trying to remember every detail about him, for when we'd inevitably part ways and I'd only have my memory of him.

"It's impolite to stare, darling."

I jumped at the sound of his voice. I shouldn't have been shocked. I wasn't being subtle at all in my staring, and there wasn't anyone else at the bar. There was no going back now, so I may as well embrace it.

"It's not every day you see a handsome British man in a suit in Japan," I responded.

A smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "I suppose not."

"What are you all dressed up for anyways?"

He paused a moment before responding, "Work."

His hesitance made me think he was lying, but I didn't know the man so I wasn't about to call him out for it. Instead, I teased, "Must be some boring corporate job if you have to go around in a suit."

He chuckled. "You could say that."

We fell silent again. I turned back to my drink, almost empty now. Once it was finished, I'd have to go back to my room. I couldn't sit around the car all night just to gaze at the hot British man. Even though I really wanted to.

I was taking the last sip of my drink when the bartender came over and placed another drink in front of me. I looked up at her in confusion. Before I could tell her I hadn't ordered another drink, she said, "From your friend over there."

I looked over to see hot British man already watching me. He smiled and raised his own glass at me.

"That's very kind of you, business man," I said.

"Call me Tangerine."

I raised an eyebrow at him. "Tangerine? Like the fruit?"

He nodded. There was no hint of humor in his expression, so I guess he was being serious. I bit back another teasing comment that was on the tip of my tongue. We may have been going back and forth, and it may have just been playful flirting anyways, but the man had bought me a drink. I shouldn't push my luck.

After a few sips, I found myself moving to sit next to Tangerine. Soon enough, one drink became two, and I returned his generosity by ordering two more drinks for him. And then the three drinks total started to hit, and my filter went completely out the window. I wasn't drunk enough to forget anything that I was saying, so I knew once I was sober I'd regret it all, but for now I was tipsy and I had the attention of an attractive British man.

Eventually, three drinks each turned into leaving the bar together. Leaving the bar turned into waiting in the elevator to go up to his room. Waiting in the elevator turned into Tangerine's lips on mine, kissing me hungrily. He pressed me against the elevator wall, his tongue slipping past my lips. I could taste the whisky he had been drinking. It made me feel even more intoxicated.

His hand slipped under my skirt. I gasped as he traced his fingers up my thigh, getting extremely close to where I needed him most.

Then the elevator dinged and his hand was gone. He had the two of us straightened up before the doors opened, revealing a group of young women dressed for a night on the town. Their eyes immediately landed on Tangerine, drinking him in from head to toe. He smiled at them, took my hand, and walked past them towards his room. I could feel their eyes boring into us as we walked away, but I was too focused on wanting to finish what we had started in the elevator.

Tangerine was quick to unlock the door. No keycard fumbling or anything. He was just so smooth. He opened the door and gestured for me to go in. Once he shut the door behind us, he was on me again. His hand was between my thighs again, this time getting to the place I needed. His fingers skated over my clothed core, causing me to whimper against his lips.

"So wet already," he noted. "You always get wet this easily?"

I shook my head. He smirked. "So this is all for me?"

I nodded, then gasped when he pressed against my clit.

"Cat got your tongue, love?"

I wanted to bite back with the same teasing nature I had at the bar, but my mind was cloudy now. I could barely form a coherent thought, let alone put those thoughts into words. All I could think of was how good his fingers felt rubbing circles into my clit. I had a few one night stands, and very rarely could a guy ever find my clit, let alone knowing how to use it to make me feel good. But Tangerine read my body language so flawlessly and knew exactly what to do to pleasure me.

When his fingers slipped past my underwear and into my sopping cunt, I let out a loud moan. I managed to come to my senses enough to quickly clap a hand over my mouth, but Tangerine pulled it away with the hand that wasn't deep in me.

"Don't you dare cover up those pretty noises," he warned.

"B-But the o-other p-people."

"I don't give a fuck about no noise complaint, love. I want this whole hotel to know how good I make you feel."

As if to punctuate his point, he curled his fingers inside of me, making me yelp. He massaged the spongey spot, making my vision blur and my knees buckle. Tangerine held me as I started to tremble, my orgasm washing over me so suddenly I barley even had time to register it was happening. He whispered praises in my ear as he continued to finger fuck me through my high. When it became too much, I put a hand over his wrist and he understood the message.

He pulled his hand from between my legs and brought his fingers to his mouth. I felt a new heat forming within me as I watched him suck his fingers clean, his eyes never leaving mine as he did so.

"Just as sweet as I expected," he said.

With that, I was finally able to regain control of my body. I dropped to my knees in front of Tangerine and started pulling at his belt. He watched me, an amused smile on his face, as I finally unclasped his belt and pulled it through the loops. I discarded it somewhere onto the floor, and made quick work of unbuttoning his pants. As I was pulling both his pants and his boxers down his legs, he tossed his tweed jacket and his blue blazer aside and was starting to unbutton his dress shirt. I would've liked to completely undress him myself, but at this moment the only thing on my mind was returning the pleasure he had given to me.

His cock had sprung free mere inches from my face, red and hard. I silently thanked whoever was watching over me that he had a decently sized cock. Too many hookups often ended in disappointment when the pants came off.

I wrapped my hand around the base and pumped him a few times before putting the tip in my mouth. Tangerine let out a breathy moan as I swirled my tongue around the tip, then slowly took him into my mouth as much as I can. Whatever I couldn't take, I kept my hand around. I slowly started to bob my head, up and down his shaft. I flattened my tongue under him, letting him rest against it as I pulled his dick all the way out of my mouth then slowly put it back in. He was groaning, reaching down to tangle his fingers in my hair. He didn't force me to change my speed or to take him deeper. He just held my hair in his fist, watching me as I kept going up and down, up and down.

I started to pump just a little, moving my hand in time with my mouth. I didn't want this moment to be over too soon, but I wanted him to feel good. And I could tell by the sounds he was making that I was definitely achieving my goal. Between moans he gave me more breathless praises, telling me that I was doing a good job. When I looked up at him, we locked eyes. I held eye contact as I took him as deep as I could go, and just held him there. He was heavy on my tongue, and he tasted just as sweet as he claimed I did.

After a moment, Tangerine shuttered and pulled at the hair still tangled around his fist. He pulled me completely off of him and to my feet. He crashed his lips against mine again, this kiss a more needy than our first one in the elevator.

"I wouldn't have lasted much longer like that, love," he said. "And if I cum before I get to be inside of you I think I'll be right angry with myself."

All I could manage in response was a whimper. And there was his smirk once again.

He finally led me further into his room, to the bed. Along the way, he stripped me of my shirt and pulled my skirt around my ankles. I was left in just my panties and bra as he lightly pushed me to bend me over the bed. I expected him to rip my panties off and to start fucking me right then and there, but he didn't. I pushed myself up onto my elbows and turned to see that he had gone to his suitcase. I was about to ask what he was doing, until he came up with a foil packet in his hand.

"You carry condoms when you go on business trips?" I asked.

He shrugged. "You never know when you might need one."

To prove his point, he gestured to me. He had a point, but I didn't want to think about how many other women he may have slept with, or intended to sleep with, on this trip.

Tangerine ripped open the condom packet and tossed it aside. He rolled the condom onto his cock and approached me again. He put a hand between my shoulder blades, pressing my chest against the bed, before lining himself up at my entrance. I didn't realize I had been holding my breath in anticipation until he pushed into me, and the breath let out with every inch deeper he went inside of me.

He was slow at first, like he was allowing me to adjust to him inside of me. It stung a little at first. It had been so long since I had last had sex, but he had more than sufficiently prepared me for him. It didn't take long for his thrusts to start gaining speed, and before I knew it he was absolutely railing me. My soft moans quickly turned into cries of pleasure, mixing with the sound of skip slapping against skin. I had completely forgotten about anyone else who may be in the rooms around us. I truly did not care if anyone knew what was happening, and it was clear that Tangerine didn't care either. It was like he was making it his mission to get the loudest, most lewd noises out of me, before he would give me any rest.

He had both his hands on my shoulders, pressing me into the bed as he pulled me back to meet his thrusts. He was going deeper inside of me than I had ever felt anyone be before. The head of his cock was perfectly abusing my g spot, sending shockwaves through my body every time he thrust inwards. At first I didn't think I would've cum again. It felt more like I was becoming overstimulated. But then I felt the pressure building up inside of me, just as quickly as it had the first time.

One of Tangerine's hands moved to my hair and pulled again, pulling me off the bed so that my back was against his chest.

"Is that another orgasm I feel?" he asked. "Are you gonna cum all over this cock, love?"

I nodded, but he moved his hand from my hair to wrap around my throat. "Use your words."

"Yes!" I cried. "Fuck yes, I'm gonna cum! I'm so fucking close, fuck!"

He chuckled, his hot breath against my ear. It was all too much. I couldn't hold it back anymore. I cried out his name as I came around him, harder and more intense than I had the first time. My vision spotted for a moment and my brain fogged over. I was completely fucked out.

Tangerine wrapped his arms around me, holding me up again as he continued to fuck into me. It didn't take him long to reach his own climax. As he did, he turned my head so he could kiss me again. It was a softer kiss this time, as we both rode out our highs together.

Tangerine slowly lowered me back onto the bed and pulled himself out of me. I whimpered at the loss of contact, hoping he hadn't heard. I listened to him shuffle into the bathroom to discard the condom before coming back out. He gently touched me, and I sheepishly turned my head to look at him.

"C'mon," he said. "We gotta take care of you before you drift off to sleep."

I wanted to tell him he had already taken care of me, but I didn't have the energy. Instead, I let him pull me to a stand and lead me to the bathroom. He made me use the washroom (the most unsexy thing you can do in front of someone you just slept with, by the way) before running a quick shower for us to wash ourselves off. The water was a perfect temperature to cool off my hot skin.

We stepped out and dried off with the hotel provided towels. I expected to put my clothes back on and to go back to my own hotel room. I knew this was nothing more than a one night stand. I didn't expect to stay the night or anything. But, to my surprise, Tangerine took me to his bed and tucked both of us into it. There was no question about it, no mentions of what was to come in the morning. He just pulled me into his arms and turned out the lights, letting the two of us drift off to sleep with just the sound of our hearts beating filling the room.

~~~~~~

I woke up the next morning to the sound of a knock.

It took a moment for me to remember where I was and what had happened. I knew I wasn't in my own room - it was much bigger than the little one bed room I had booked - and I was aware of the fact that I was naked. Once the memories from the night before came rushing back, I smiled to myself.

I was suddenly also aware of the fact that Tangerine was missing. I sat up in bed and looked around the room, but there were no signs of him.

Another knock came at the door, followed by a voice saying, "Room service."

There was a hotel robe laid out on the other bed, next to my folded up clothes. I pulled the robe on and made sure it was secured around me before I went to the door. A young man in a hotel uniform wheeled in a cart with food that smelled so good it made my mouth water.

"Thanks," I said as he left. I closed the door behind him and turned back to the cart.

There was a metal lid over the food, a cup of coffee, and a note. I reached for the note first, curiosity getting the best of me over my desire to eat.

"Good morning, darling," it read. "I had to be off early for work. I extended the checkout time of the room, so you are welcome to stay as long as you need, and I ordered you some breakfast for when you woke up. You may need to pop back to your own room to get your things, though. Thank you for a lovely night. I hope you enjoy your time in Japan. ~ Tangerine"

I sat back down on the bed and looked at the cart in front of me. I read over the letter again, willing for there to be something else written there. Like a phone number. Or a way for me to see him again.

It was just a one night stand. You knew that.

I did. But I couldn't help but feel disappointed. He bought me drinks, fucked me so good I knew I was ruined for other men, and held me as I fell asleep, only to slip out in the morning. At least he bought me breakfast and coffee, but still. I would've liked for him to be there when I woke up.

I read over his note one last time and found myself smiling involuntarily. Even if I was never going to see him again, I also was never going to forget him.

The cute man in the brown tweed jacket, and the thick British accent.

toss a coin to your witcher!

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#tangerine #tangerine imagine #tangerine x reader #aaron taylor johnson #aaron taylor johnson imagine #aaron taylor johnson x reader #tangerine smut #aaron taylor johnson smut #bullet train #imagine #one shot #smut #fanfiction #fanfic #fandom

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gingerteafairy · 5 months ago

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𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴, 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗼𝗿𝗲𝘁𝗶𝗰𝗮𝗹𝗹𝘆

wrote after reading this fic. @ikkyfics you're my inspiration

You're his boss. He's your problem. Nothing was supposed to happen between you—theoretically.

tags n warnings: smut/mdni, tangerine x fem!reader, language, boss!reader, agent!tangerine, smoking, alcohol, piv, fingering, oral (m!receiving), power kink, praise kink, there's a lot of kinks tbh, aftercare. word count: 4.7k. masterlist

Tangerine was restless. The cigarette burned between his fingers, drawn more out of habit than pleasure, as he struggled to maintain his relaxed posture. But it was impossible when you were near. The mutual disdain hung in the air—like static electricity, ready to ignite at the slightest touch. And Tangerine hated being commanded, especially by you—a woman impatient, sharp-tongued, and cold, with a beauty so cutting it wounded the pride of anyone who came close.

A nightmare dressed as a daydream.

Your heels echoed across the station's stairs, the rhythmic click-clack of them striking against the concrete. The jingle of your earrings, the scent of your perfume—he could smell it even before laying eyes on you. And when your gazes finally met, he suppressed a curse. You were stunning. And that irked him.

"Her job is to be discreet," Tangerine muttered in his distinct British accent, grinding out the cigarette with the tip of his shoe. He could’ve done it on purpose, knowing how much you despised the scent of nicotine. But not today. Today, he had enough problems.

"They never suspect people like that," you shot back, your eyes as sharp as blades. He raised an eyebrow, surprised you’d overheard the snide remark. "Hope you didn’t ruin the notes of my perfume with that cheap cigarette."

"Nothing ruins your perfume or your pride, princess." He dragged out the last word, with that provocative cadence only he could make sound as irritating as it was seductive. He was the only one who dared to call you that. The only one who’d ever challenge your authority.

"Both are built on money and slavery," you hissed, the words dripping from your tongue like venom. You removed your sunglasses with an impatient flick of your wrist and tucked them into your bag. Your fingers ran lazily through your hair, letting it cascade free. Tangerine held his breath for a second—not because he wanted to, but because the expensive fragrance of your hair products hit him like a sucker punch.

He clicked his tongue, his hands sliding into his suit pockets. "There are only three reasons a woman wears sunglasses at night."

You didn’t avert your gaze. "I’m not asking."

He laughed—a low, sardonic laugh that carried a weight of irony. "You’ll hear it anyway."

“Of course, big mouth,” You crossed your arms, and he leaned forward ever so slightly, taking advantage of every inch that narrowed the distance between you.

"Number one, exhaustion. Dark circles so deep no makeup can hide them." He studied your face for a beat. "Which isn’t your case." Your face remained impassive, but your lips pressed into a thin line. "Number two, to avoid being recognized. Could be I’m right…"

You blinked slowly, exasperated. "And the third?"

The subtle shift in your breath didn’t escape him. A tiny slip-up, but enough to make him smile. That damn smile, half amusement, half cruelty.

"Oh? You interested, princess?"

You rolled your eyes, looking for distraction in your bag, pulling out a mirror and lipstick. But it was too late. He’d already read you. "Sometimes, I try to please my employees," you said, cold as ice.

Ah. The power move. The dirty play. But curiously, today, it didn’t bother him. Tangerine pulled out another cigarette, lighting it slowly, each movement meticulously calculated to irritate you. He let the smoke linger, watching the particles dissipate in the cool night air.

"Third reason?" He repeated, leaning in slightly, his eyes locked onto yours. "She was crying."

The blow was direct. And precise. For a moment—just a single, rare moment—you hesitated. "Yeah... maybe."

Tangerine saw it. "Ah..." He exhaled, a victorious edge to his tone. "In the end, it always comes down to you and me, innit?"

You maintained your unreadable expression, taking your time to apply the lipstick with exaggerated calm. But now he knew. And once he knew, he’d use it. Tangerine watched, mesmerized, as the crimson slid slowly across your lips, marking them with careful precision, almost meticulous in its application. The color blended seamlessly with the natural contour of your mouth, perhaps a shade darker, a detail anyone else would overlook—but not him. Tangerine always noticed. Too much.

Shit. The thought came before he could stop it. The drag he took was longer than necessary—not just for the cigarette, but to keep his hands busy while you tucked your tools back into your bag and returned your attention to him.

"You know why I’m here?" Your voice sliced through the silence like a blade, bringing up the subject both of you had been pretending didn’t exist. A hint of disappointment crept into the question, subtle but impossible to ignore.

He turned his face away as he exhaled the smoke, as if to spare you the smell, but deep down, he just wanted to hide the half smile that threatened to appear. “I let someone escape. Theoretically.”

You raised your eyebrow, analyzing him with that look of someone who already knew the answer before he even asked.

“Theoretically?”

He held your gaze, inhaling deeply before answering. “The truth,” he began, taking another drag, “is that he tried to escape. He tried to call the boss. But I intercepted him before he could.”

The word intercepted carried a particular weight on Tangerine’s lips. An implicit code between you. You knew immediately what he meant, and the tension in your shoulders eased slightly.

“Good job.” There was a moment of hesitation, minimal, but Tangerine caught it. The compliment came out of you like something forbidden, almost unwanted. He couldn’t hold back the low, hoarse laugh that followed.

“You’re welcome, little fox.” The nickname slipped from his lips like a dirty joke, steeped in his usual teasing tone, full of blatant flirtation.

You rolled your eyes. “You’re dirty.”

He tilted his head slightly, a wicked glint in his eyes. “Only a fitting name for someone like you. Live up to it and go out with me.” The suggestion came with a mischievous smile, shaped perfectly by the cigarette that balanced between his lips. You laughed sarcastically.

“You smell like cigarettes.”

“I can shower at the hotel.”

The answer came quickly, effortlessly, as if Tangerine were a master at turning everything into a game of catch and release. He knew he was playing. You knew it too. But still, you smiled. There was no cause or circumstance for that foolish and persistent flirting, but somehow, it always found space to exist. You moved a little closer, making the height difference irrelevant in the face of the tension that vibrated between you.

“I’ve learned that when life gives me lemons, I make lemonade.” Your voice was low, engaging. A challenge.

Tangerine arched an eyebrow, interested. “Oh, really?”

“In your case,” you continued, moving just close enough for him to smell the perfume disguising the nicotine in the air, “I make Tangerine juice.” His smile widened immediately. A spark of something indefinable shone in his eyes. “Is that enough of a threat for you?”

For a moment, Tangerine just watched you. The cigarette dangling from his lips, his mind processing every nuance of your tone, your gaze, your challenge. And then he laughed. That low, insolent, amused laugh.

“I don’t know. Can you take it all?” he retorted, forcing his head down to meet your eyes. You were so much shorter, so much more delicate. Anyone would think you couldn’t handle it. But damn, Tangerine knew you would take everything from him if he let you. And God, he was willing to do that…

“Like a good girl,” you whispered, like perdition itself. His mind working on every dirty scenario he could do to you, completely surrendered to him. Your heels hanging on either side of his face. The only order being ‘faster’. Your mouth opened not to scream, but to moan every letter of his name, savoring as you came undone.

“If you’re so brave, then tell me why you were crying.” Tangerine’s voice came out slurred, firm, unhurried. Another cigarette fell to the ground, crushed under the toe of his shoe and kicked under the carriages, as if the subject were as disposable as the butt. But his eyes said something else.

You clicked your tongue, looking away.

“Nothing at all. Nonsense.”

He remained silent, just watching you, that unshakable confidence reflected in his gaze. And for a second—a measly second—you considered opening up. That irritating, foul-mouthed man had something almost paternal about his posture, in the way he held his broad shoulders as if he were carrying the whole world, but at the same time, he made jokes about everything.

“Family,” you finally let out, in a tone that bordered on tiredness.

Tangerine slowly rolled her neck, cracking her vertebrae, relieving the accumulated tension. “Are you married?” The question came without much weight, but you noticed the way he said it too casually, as if he already knew the answer.

“No.”

The word came out simple, without flourishes. Your fingers slid through his hair, an automatic gesture, while your eyes stopped on him for a second longer than necessary. The suit he wore was not tight, but his muscles were still visible, a discreet reminder of the strength he carried under the appearance of a man always ready to make a joke.

“What a shame,” he muttered, panting before looking away—a well-rehearsed act. Then he turned back to you with that damned playful smile. “I like committed women. I like those little power games. It’s more interesting that way. Married women are powerful.”

You laughed, for real this time. A light, rare, almost forgotten laugh. “That’s a free ticket to death, you know?”

Tangerine shrugged. “What’s the point of our job if we don’t take risks?”

This time, he was the one who observed you, unhurriedly, memorizing every detail. Your genuine smile was something different. More valuable than all the jewelry you insisted on wearing. And maybe that was why you blurted out:

“That must be why I want to go out with you.”

The admission hung in the air, intentional, but masked by the futile effort to hide the smile that threatened to appear on his cheeks. Tangerine arched an eyebrow, that half smile widening as he looked around, ever on guard. Then he turned his eyes to you, this time more intense.

“Theoretically.” The word was loaded with an unspoken meaning coming out of you.

He held out his hand. “Shall we?”

You hesitated for a moment. Not because you had any doubts, but because you knew exactly what you were getting into.

“Sure.”

And your hand found his. They were rough, hands of heavy, dark work. Hands that you had ordered to work and now they were here, not stained with blood, but mingling between nicotine and your hand cream, brushing against the softness of his touch.

Tangerine raised a hand and hailed a taxi, a simple movement, but loaded with intention. He opened the door for you, a gentlemanly gesture disguised as indifference—but you weren’t naïve. He wanted to watch you a little longer, the way your dress rode up, your soft thighs, and his predatory gaze. You got in first, and he quickly slid into the seat next to you, indicating the first hotel that came to mind in that vibrant immensity that was Tokyo.

The neon lights danced across the car window, coloring his face with changing hues, sometimes red, sometimes blue. You looked away, taking your time to capture how the light beams shaped his features. Every contour of his jaw, every shadow cast by his mustache, and the deep eyes that, from time to time, slid down to your legs before lazily moving up to meet yours. He was beautiful. Dangerously beautiful. In the literal sense.

“You’re handsome, Tangerine,” you said, your voice tinged with mischievous amusement. “Charming.” His eyes narrowed slightly, surprised by the sudden compliment, but not enough to hide the obvious appreciation as he stared at you.

“Three compliments in one day?” He arched his eyebrow, his mouth curving into that half smile filled with mischief. “I don’t even recognize you.”

“I like to please my slaves.”

Slowly, he placed his hand on your knee, his fingers brushing against the fabric of your clothes in a gesture as casual as it was calculated. The space inside the taxi was tiny, forcing closeness. Your knee didn’t move. He noticed. His fingers lightly caressed the spot, the touch almost absent-minded but full of purpose, lightly lifting the fabric and caressing without restraint.

“Have I been demoted to slave now?” he teased, laughter stuck in his throat, trying to mask the fact that, for some reason, he was acting like a damn teenager.

You tilted your head, your gaze filled with interest. Your voice came out low, engaging.

“Thought you liked powerful women.”

Your body moved forward a few millimeters, enough for him to notice. The heat of your presence seeped into the space between you, transforming the cab into a silent game of intentions.

“Slave.”

Tangerine laughed, that low, gravelly laugh that vibrated in his chest before transforming into something even more dangerous.

“Princess.”

The word escaped him with surgical precision, carrying a weight that made you hold your breath for a second. Your tongue slid across your lips, instinctively moistening them, even with the lipstick still intact. He noticed it too.

“You’re beautiful,” Tangerine murmured, and this time, there was no joke in his tone. Only the truth.

You held his gaze, a glint of something indescribable dancing in your expression.

“Thank you.”

The taxi stopped smoothly in front of the hotel. Tangerine, without hesitation, pulled out his wallet and paid the fare before you could even think about moving. He already knew what to do, he knew what made you happy—what pleased you.

You opened the door, but before your feet touched the wet floor, his hand slid under yours, offering support naturally. There was no need for words. When you stood up, Tangerine closed the door behind you and, with his other hand, opened an umbrella.

It was only then that you realized it was raining.

The sound of the rain against the umbrella's fabric created a soft rhythm as he guided you through the hotel's brightly lit lobby. The smell of polished wood and expensive perfume hung in the air. Unhurriedly, he paid for the room, taking the card before heading to the elevator. Your hand rested on his arm, and, amidst the comfortable silence, one thing was clear: you were happy.

Maybe you should have always followed this path.

The elevator door slid open with a clang, and you walked down the carpeted hallway to your designated room. Tangerine slid his card into the electronic lock—green light, unlocked. As soon as you were inside, he turned to you, his deft fingers sliding over the fabric of your overcoat. His touch was deliberately slow, purposeful, sending a shiver down your skin before he hung the garment on the hanger.

You walked around the room, your eyes taking in every detail of the sophisticated decor, but what really caught your attention were the two champagne glasses on the table. A smile played on your lips as you filled both, feeling his presence approaching from behind. Tangerine took the glass without taking his eyes off you, bringing the glass to his lips and drinking in one gulp.

“You don’t like cigarettes, but like alcohol,” he commented, his voice full of gentle provocation. Before you could respond, he picked up the bottle and filled the glasses again. “It’s poison, you know?”

“Everyone has their battles,” you murmured, bringing the glass to your lips and pausing for a moment to just watch him. "Mine's alcohol."

He placed the glass on the headboard, and before you could react, his hand was already in your hair. His fingers lightly sank into the strands, pulling one of them closer to his face. He tilted his head and inhaled your scent, his eyes closing briefly before he released the strands, letting them slip between his fingers.

“You didn’t ask permission to touch me,” you teased, your voice coming out lower than you had planned. Your body, treacherous, was already getting closer without you realizing it.

“Should I?” Tangerine asked, his voice thick, and took a step forward.

“No.”

It wasn’t a warning. It was a request.

He understood.

His hand slid to your waist, his touch warm and firm. Then Tangerine leaned in, placing a soft kiss on your cheek. You held your breath. His mustache brushed against your skin as he moved to your forehead, then to the other cheek, tracing an adoring path before finally moving down to your chin. His bottom lip slid against your skin, exploring, before touching your mouth in a subtle, almost torturous brush.

“You’re calm,” you whispered as you released your breath, your eyes slowly opening to meet his. The blue depths were darker, filled with something that made you shiver.

“You want more?” The question was spoken in a low, husky tone, full of promise. You held his gaze and, without hesitation, murmured:

“I do.”

The smile that formed on his lips was dangerous, following with another teasing peck. Another. And another, which turned into a slow kiss, savoring every part of your mouth, his hand stopping at your waist, his grip becoming tighter. You returned the intensity, allowing yourself to finally tangle your fingers in those waves that you had found yourself thinking about so many nights.

His touch traveled to your hips, a silly hand reaching under your ass to grab your leg, squeezing tightly as he hiked up your dress to the hem of your panties, pulling the elastic, making a tugging noise to let you know he was there. A silent request for consent. Oh, how you loved being pampered by this man.

“You’re my best man, you know?” You purred, leaning against Tangerine’s shoulder, while he still played with the hem of your panties, his smart fingers going to the center, pulling the elastic so they fit inside you.

“Yeah?” He gasped, his mouth opening at the feeling of your wetness, inserting a finger into the slit to feel the texture of your walls squeezing his finger.

“Yeah.” You groaned, biting your lips to suppress the lewd moan that insisted on coming out of your throat, while he did a slow dance inside you, circling that special spot that made you tremble.

“If I knew it was necessary to make you wet to tell the truth, I would’ve fucked you a long time ago.” He whispered against your lips, chasing them for another kiss as he added another finger to that delicious game inside you. It was as if you were a map and he knew the exact location for his pleasure.

“I would’ve punished you.” You tried to threaten, throwing your head back at the pleasure of his thumb joining the teasing, circling your clit. “Shit.”

“You’ve already punished me enough.” He replied, his fingers becoming faster on the spot. He wanted you to stay awake, aware, knowing that it was him, your best agent, who was causing you this pleasure. “I heard I’m the only one who does small talk after making a mistake. You cut or kill the others. Tell me, is there something special with me, princess?”

“Fuck you.” You cursed, grinding against his hands to get more friction, but every time you ground your hips for more, he stopped for a few seconds before going back. “Fuck, Tan!”

“Fuck yourself on my fingers, then.” He teased, returning to the fast rhythm of his fingers that you needed so much. Even in that uncomfortable position, you were coming undone sublimely, trembling with your leg resting on his waist, on your tiptoes even in your heels. “That’s it…”

He waited for you to calm down, gradually decreasing the circles on your clit little by little until the spasms stopped and you could get back on your feet. You swallowed hard, fixing your hair as you tried to control yourself in that situation where Tangerine’s cock seemed to throb inside his pants, the pulse being visible.

“you do this often?” You asked, sighing as you turned so he could unzip your dress. He brushed your perfect hair aside so it wouldn't get caught in the device. Damn, you'd never been so grateful to hear that metallic sound of a zipper opening and the rustling of fabric on the floor.

“Being your sex slave?” He whispered in your ear, making every hair on the back of your neck stand on end with his hot breath. “Can make it frequent, if my princess wants.”

You fell silent, your breathing uncertain, almost a moan. Tangerine laughed, calculating his breath in the hollow of your neck.

“Too sour for your sharp tongue, little fox?”

You turned your ankles, his eyes immediately traveling over your curves, the ones he fantasized about when you were scolding him, under that tight dress and black coat, bigger than you, to hide your weapons. And there you were, unarmed, perfect, almost naked.

“Fox got your tongue, Tan?” You teased, your hands going to the hooks of your lacy bra, throwing it to the floor.

“Pleasantly.” He replied, licking his lips. You were determined, he knew. You could take off all your clothes by yourself without his help, not that you didn’t want to, but because somehow, you knew it would drive him crazy. The trait he hated the most before was what turned him on at that moment. Dominance.

He aimed at you, placing your fingers on the hem of your panties and letting them slide down your ankles, picking up the fabric and placing it in his palm. He suppressed the urge to smell that fabric. Holy shit, how he suppressed it. Using all his military and divine training to remain nonchalant, just putting the cloth inside his pants pocket, before unbuttoning his shirt.

“Leave the heels on.” He commanded, throwing the shirt to the floor, giving the divine view of every damn defined muscle of his. Shit. He had no right to be like this.

“Fetish?” You asked, not taking your eyes off Tangerine’s hands working to remove his tight pants, throwing them in the same fate as the other discarded clothes on the floor.

“One of ‘em.” He answered, stopping only with the white boxers that were transparent at the tip. He was excited. Much more than he had ever been in his entire life. On the edge. “C’mere and take ‘em off, princess.”

“Giving me orders?” You flirted, getting closer and playing with the hem of his underwear, the softness of your palm touching his erection with surprising delicacy.

“m giving you a break from your job.” He gasped, feeling your fist go up and down his length.

You were open-mouthed, feeling pleasure as if he were touching you and not the other way around. You swore you had never felt such a delicious cock in your life, your desire forcing you to get on your knees and enjoy it more. You needed to taste it, position be damned. Tangerine had you even before this stupid game.

“Holy shit.” He cursed, watching you take off your underwear in a second, lifting your feet to help you, being graced by your mouth warming his throbbing member. Saliva comforting your pain, your tongue licking the right places, your eyebrows knitted in pleasure. “Fuck, you looking like you’re enjoying this makes me… shit.”

You wrapped the extension in your hand, maintaining eye contact with him, your tongue swirling around the tip, your hand following the movements of your mouth. His taste was better than you’d ever tasted, a salty touch balanced with sweet and bitter. Tangerine could go down to hell to see that vision again.

“Shit, stop. I’m gonna cum if you keep going like this.” He grunted, pulling away, but you grabbed his thigh, giving one last suck before letting go of his cock. “Fuck. You were made for this.”

“Glad for your feedback.” You smiled, wiping some of the drool that ran down the corner of your mouth, lying down on the bed.

Tangerine took off his shoes and socks, which were thrown somewhere near the clothes that were no longer important. You laid your head on the huge pillow of that king-size bed, spreading your legs to accommodate Tangerine's body in the middle.

“Main course?” You teased, catching a glimpse of Tangerine crawling on the bed, kissing your knee, your thigh, the inside of your body, giving you a little lick before moving up the trail to your breasts, ending on your lips.

“It's been the main course since flirting at the station.” He responded, kissing you, his hands squeezing every curve of your body with gusto, with force, almost painful.

You kicked off your heels. Screw his fetish. You needed to feel him, skin to skin, as much as you could. You wanted him to possess you completely, becoming one, entwining himself in the mess that was Tangerine. Your head fell back, a soft, submissive moan escaping your lips as you felt his cock in your hole, entering you shamelessly.

“Hmmm, Tan…” you moaned, pulling his head to kiss him passionately, while he moved his hips, going deeper and deeper inside you.

You held him with your thighs on his waist, the position being more intimate, deeper. His belly rubbed against your clitoris, you were completely stimulated. Tangerine leaned on one arm, his free hand roaming your body, squeezing your breasts, lowering his head to take one of your nipples in his mouth. Completely at the peak. Just like all his work, this was explosive. Tangerine’s own signature mark.

Not sure if it was the overstimulation that had happened before or if Tangerine was a damn who knew how to fuck too well, you felt yourself painfully close to cumming, arching your back, scratching his skin, he grunted in response, increasing the pace.

“Tangerine, shit…” you moaned in a thin scream, your body tensing. Your voice matched the staccatos of the strong thrusts. “Fuck, Tangerine.”

“I know, I know. Me too.” He groaned, grabbing your thigh and then your waist, pulling you as close as possible as he felt his own release getting closer.

He continued to increase the pace, until with one last round of his hips, strands of cum began to squirt inside you, while he felt your walls tighten around him. You were cumming too. Hard. He felt it, which made him force himself to move his pelvis a little more to prolong that sensation for both of you, both moaning in hypersensitivity.

Tangerine gradually slowed down his movements, until he was completely still inside you for a while, enjoying the few seconds left of the orgasm. He rolled to the side, panting, running his hand through his hair and then his mustache, in an attempt to fix it.

“I really need a cigarette right now.” He confessed, turning his face towards you, eyes roaming over your naked and destroyed beauty until returning to your eyes, so sincere and submissive at that moment.

“Are you one of those people who smokes after sex?” You said, pulling the sheets up to cover yourself and admire him more calmly. “I expected more from you, agent.”

“Gimme a break, princess. I worked hard here.” He joked, trying to fit in with you there inside the warm comforter. Tangerine’s hand went to your face, touching your cheeks and then your messy hair. “God… you’re beautiful.”

“Don’t think I’ll treat you any differently after this. You’re still my man.” You joked, returning to that same cocky posture from before. But something was different, the way your eyes betrayed you through your words.

He noticed. But he simply loved that little game too much to argue back.

“Understood, little fox.” He joked, lying on his back and pulling you to his chest. You played a little with the hairs on Tangerine’s belly, reviewing every detail of that night. The tangerine juice and a clever fox make-believe. It was stupid. A stupid word game. One you wanted to play forever if you could.

Actually, you could. He was your agent. The best of them. Theoretically.

#tangerine x y/n #tangerine x you #tangerine bullet train #tangerine x reader #tangerine #x reader #imagine #reader insert #fanfic #aaron taylor johnson x you #aaron taylor johnson x reader #aaron taylor johnson fandom #aaron taylor johnson #atj x reader #atj #atj fic

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