#bullet train reader insert

It would take a truly cruel man to ruin this moment. So it shouldn’t be surprising that Lemon would be that man. His ring tone really was the only thing that would get Tangerine off the bed and sitting up at this hour anyway.

“What? Yeah, I know it’s you, what do you want, Mate?” Tangerine asks, sitting off the side of the bed. His back towards you.

In the low light of the bedroom Tangerine’s back was never ending. Without thinking you reach out and gently touch just above the small of his back. He barely acknowledged it; other than the tiny jolt his body gives at your hand’s initial touch.

“Of course we’re going today. Fuck, you really call me at-.” There’s a slight movement as Tangerine squints at his phone screen. “Four in the morning to ask me this?”

It’s hard, almost impossible, to roll your body over in bed. Pressing your face against his back and giving him a kiss. Your arms wrapping around his center in an embrace that he leans slightly back into. His free hand resting on your arms clasp tightly around his waist.

“We have hours before we need to be there, Lemon. The hell are you even awake for?”

More kisses are given to his back. Along with little nips that demand his attention.

“Are you shitting me?” Tangerine whisper yells, ripping himself out of your arms to start walking around the bedroom. “Fucking AM, fucking PM, give me a minuet.”

The aggressive slamming hanging up of Tangerine’s call is amplified in the quiet bedroom. Along with the rapid slamming of drawers and the gun safe Tangerine is currently digging through.

Half-awake and even less alive you manage to mumble out a “What?” before your face falls into the mattress.

“I’m so sorry, Darling,” He says, jumping up to pull his pants into position. “I got my departure time wrong and, yep, fucking late.”

He’s leaving. That wakes you up.

“Late? You’re already leaving?” You ask, already knowing the answer.

Even in the dark you could see the pause this gave Tangerine. He doesn’t stop moving but he does slow down. Finishing with his tie but taking a moment to come closer and kneel in front of you.

“I’m sorry, I am so sorry, Love.” He whispers. “It will be less then a week. Then I will take a break for just as long. For two weeks, a fucking month.”

Just like with his back you reach out and gently touch his dangling tie. Running the fabric through your fingers while he talks. Something to focus on other than your own disappointment or Tangerine’s sad eyes.

“Do you even need to go this time? Can’t Lemon do it himself? I mean, we really don’t even need the money.” You say, now holding his tie in almost a grip.

“First of all; Lemon isn’t going or doing shit without mean. And I personally like living in a penthouse with my bird dressed in pearls and rubies.” Tangerine retorts. Covering your tie holding hand with his own. “It’s gonna be two months, baby. And it’s gonna be the best two months of your fucking life.”

It doesn’t matter what you say or do now. Tangerine is leaving.

“And I get more pearls?” You ask, as if that were the only reason you were with Tangerine.

“I’ll find you a pearl the size of your head?” he promises, giving your hand a kiss on the knuckles.

“Okay, watch out for Lemon.” You say, immediately followed by a kiss from Tangerine.

It’s a hard and deep kiss the presses you back into the bed. The hold on his tie and an arm around his neck kept him close. When he releases your lips you simply hold him in a hug. Letting go of his tie and simply holding him tightly.

“I’m sorry…” Tangerine says, moving your arms from where they hold him.

“I know,” You give one smaller kiss before he leaves your embrace completely. “Be safe, watch out for Lemon.”

It's not been the… easiest time - it has to be said.

Since that phone call from Lemon, you've been struggling with sleep. It doesn't show in your work, of course. Keeping up appearances has always come to you rather naturally. Some of it being from your repressed trauma, that even years of therapy barely scratched the surface of, but also because of your line of work too. It doesn't sit well to be an emotional wreck after every kill you're paid to do.

The call was from a number you didn't recognise. The passing sound of traffic suggested it's from a payphone as Lemon sighed heavily down the line.

"You lost your phone? On a train?" You answered the call lightheartedly and you recognized his sigh immediately, you hoped it was just a release of pent up tension over a job well finished. Although, the fact that Lemon was the one to call, put you on edge, hoping it's not coming through your pretend jolliness.

"He's gone." His statement was simple and sudden. The tone, stone cold, as his voice was raspy, possibly from crying.

"Who's gone, Lemon?"

Your throat ran dry as you swallowed around a lump. Your chest quickly tightened as you tried to piece together what he could have meant. You couldn't- no, didn't want to think about the most likely possibility.

"Tan-" He took a pause, cleared his throat before continuing. "Tangerine, was shot in the neck, he is gone."

It's not like you guys were dating, no, it wasn't anything like that. Neither of you had the emotional capacity for that. What, with your jobs requiring you to spend weeks, months away from each other at a time, sometimes in different countries, opposite sides of the world. But he was the first person, in a long while, that you genuinely cared for.

~~~

You turn to your bedside table, glance at the alarm clock there. Its digital display shines in orange numbers, 01:54.

It's a month, today.

You suddenly have a stupid idea. What would happen if you called his number? Last time you checked it was still live, it'd probably just take you to voicemail. Weirdly, your therapist at your last session suggested writing letters to him, in your bereavement. Bereavement. Such a weird word. You're not even sure that's what this is. But maybe leaving a voicemail would be an equivalent. Maybe he can listen to his voicemails, wherever he is. You scoff at the fleeting thought but reach for your phone anyway.

Tangie is still in your recent calls. You tap the saved contact and wait for it to ring.

You're not expecting anyone to answer, of course not. Your grief hasn't driven you completely nuts. But as the phone rings, you can't help but think about getting to talk to him, just once more. By some divine intervention, you'd be connected through to him, in the afterlife and you could tell him everything you couldn't the last time you spoke.

"-after the beep BEEP"

"Hi Tangie," You scoff in embarrassment, not really sure why you're doing this anymore. "I uh,"

You sigh heavily, all too aware of the silence the machine is expecting you to fill. You sniffle as you start to speak again.

"I know you won't hear this. That… Isn't really the point." You draw a shaky breath. "I know who did it though. Well, knew. Lemon and I took him out last week. What kind of an assassin's name is Ladybug anyway?" You snicker. Can't avoid the tightness in your chest though.

"I just… I dunno. Apparently I should be writing letters to you, as if I could send them off with a pigeon and they'd get to wherever the fuck you are. So, this is the next best thing. If this was anyone else, you'd tell me to fuck off and to suck it up. We always were on the same wavelength, when it came to feelings." Your chest deflates with a long exhale as you realise you need to stop dancing around whatever it is you're trying to say here.

"I guess I just wanted to tell you I really fucking miss you." You sniffle again, tears gathering in the corners of your eyes. "I miss your stupid grin, your teasing, your annoyingly cocky attitude, your… The way you looked at me."

"I wish you were here right now so I could tell you I love you. I wish I didn't, I really goddamn wish I didn't care for you so much but I fucking love you. And I hate that I can't see your face as I told you, for the first time. Please call me back."

“Stupid, mustached, sexy idiot…” You muttered while sliding through the contacts. Looking over the banister as if Tangerine will be one floor down, staring right up at you and waving. “Better answer.”

It’s only been three weeks since Tangerine was carried to your door. Covered in blood, a hole in his throat sew together by a back-alley doctor and breathing just enough to prove that he wasn’t dead. Lemon looked exhausted, but he was the only one in control during this time. Good thing, too. Otherwise the neighbors would have heard your screams at seeing Tangerine like this.

The first week was spent with Tangerine in bed. You and Lemon took shifts sitting by his side. To make sure that the wound was clean, but also to be sure that the idiot didn’t try to get up before he was at least a bit better.

A few rings and your call goes to voice mail. Of course Tangerine wouldn’t answer, this was likely his plan all along. Go out somewhere and then sneak away the moment you let go of his hand. He’s being trying to do this since you let him get up from bed: whether it was to visit the gym, pick up some food or even just take a piss you were making sure he wasn’t doing something else.

“We’re taking that two-month vacation, Babe. Whether you like it or not.” You had told him one night when he wanted to step out for a smoke. He had smiled when you said that. Which was probably when you should have known he was already planning something.

Next option was Lemon. Quickly scrolling your contacts until the little fruit emoji showed.

One ring and he picked up; “What’s up?”

“Where’s Tangerine?” You ask, still scanning over the people from the second-floor banister.

“Well, hello to you too, Love. I don’t get a greeting or nothing?” Lemon says with a fake voice of sorrow. He is definitely part of Tangerine’s plan.

“Lemon, please…”

“He’s alright, I swear. He’s just doing some shopping.”

Shopping, at least he wasn’t lying about needing to stop by the mall. Just trying to find him would be the real bear.

“You know where he is, then? Is he safe?” You were starting to sound like a concerned mother more than a girlfriend right now. “Damn it, Lemon, I just got him back.”

Lemon, always the big brother, is quick to change his voice. “Hey, hey. It’s gonna be okay. I’m worried just like you, ‘kay? But he’s not going anywhere and I’m making sure of it this time.”

“You’re watching him right now, aren’t you?” You ask.

“’course I am.” He says although he claimed to have had a date today and couldn’t come. “I’m not letting that prick out of my sight either. And I hope you like pearls ‘cause he’s spending our last two jobs on them.”

Usually you would have laughed at that comment. But slight pressure of a person stepping into your space made you silent. It wasn’t Tangerine who was suddenly so close you could be spooning. Even if you didn’t have this conversation with Lemon you couldn’t pretend Tangerine was right behind you.

Tangerine was a firm presence with a cool, sometimes cold, feeling in his hands. It made goosebumps on your arms when he touches you. It excites when he finally talks after placing a kiss on your head. This person wasn’t Tangerine, but they certainly were a threat.

Especially when they leaned into your ear and whispered; “If you don’t want him to have another hole in his neck. You’ll hang up.”

“I wouldn’t mind moving him towards something else if you-.” Lemon was interrupted by the practical slamming of your phone. Silencing the only contact to your man or your friend you hand.

“Good girl,” The stranger seemingly coos. Sliding their hand into yours like a lover. “Very good girl. Now come along.”

The stranger was a woman. A non-descript white woman who would fit in with the countless other college students meandering around. Perhaps just a few years older and with quit a bit more confidence. She pulls your hand close, forcing you into her side where she puts an arm around you. Your phone now hers as she slides it into her coat like it’s no big deal.

“Sorry you’re part of this,” She says, voice low next to your head. “But a debts’ gotta be paid and you’re the only money Tangerine’s got.”

It’s pointless to ask but you do so anyway; “Who are you?”

He smiles like you are just oh-so-cute. “I’m your new best friend, Baby. Let’s go for a ride.”

The mall was still busy and seemed to be only made worse by the situation. This woman held you too close to try and slip away from. If she’s anything like the people Tangerine and Lemon usually deal with there would be no point in trying anyway. Best case scenario you would make some distance. Worst case and Tangerine is dead, along with several bystanders who have no way of knowing what is going on.

On the escalator a family denim jacket and tie peaks out from the crowd on the lower floor. Although he was a big man Lemon was pretty good at blending in with the crowd. Especially when he just stand next to a protein shack or some other gym bros and not look a bit out of place.

He make eye-contact and only needs a light shake of your head to understand. His own phone out and talking into with a smile. Totally not talking to Tangerine or anything, and certainly not walking in your same direction for any particular reason.

Into the parking garage and This woman is walking faster. She doesn’t give off any other impression than someone wanting to get their girl home real fast. The only hitch in the camouflage was the Cobalt taking a sharp turn right in front of you. Trunk ready to be opened.

Fear and logic two warriors fighting in your head. On one hand the fear makes you think of the trunk. A second location means nothing but death. If you don’t go in then Tangerine is gone. Lemon will have to live through his brother’s death again or killed himself.

On the other hand logic tells you to scream. Shove This woman hard as you can and starting running just as strong. Normal circumstance says that they won’t bother chasing if you run into a populated area screaming. It’s usually not worth the risk. Usually.

You don’t have time to think about which warrior you want to win. Metal is already hitting your knees and gravity takes you forward. Face first into the dark trunk that is quickly slammed shut behind you. Nothing to look for and nothing to find but the rough ground and harsh sides you could never hope to punch through.

“Lemon! LEMON!” You immediately start screaming, open hands slamming on the trunk roof. “Get Tangerine! Get Tangerine!”

Your man was still injured; he had left the apartment today with a pretty white bandage around his throat. You were gently when placing it on. Giving him a soft kiss when you were done. Smiling when he chuckled at the gesture. Demanding one onto his mouth as well.

The car takes a sharp right turn and you still almost feel his facial hair during that kiss. It’s almost enough to distract you from being slammed around from all the turning and sharp takes.

“Where is Tangerine?!” You scream, sure that they can hear you. “He better be okay!”

Although you yelled this like a threat, it wasn’t like you could do anything. These people weren’t like normal thugs and punks on the street. Who would run away at a warning shot into the ground or surprised by a brave victim. These were the kind of people who were after revenge against Tangerine.

Based on his past it’s not surprising that Tangerine would have enemies like this. What little you knew about his work usually meant there were always hurt parties left behind. Widows and orphans made from a single job that neither Tangerine nor Lemon cared to really remember. It was just another workday for them.

A few more turns and then it’s a straight shot for at least an hour. Long enough that you fell asleep in the warm trunk. Curling close until your knees were as high as they could go while waiting for the car to finally stop.

You don’t wake up when the car stops, only when someone slams a hand on the trunk hood. They don’t open the trunk, but they do keep hitting it. Again and again slamming into the metal that threatened to cave in, although that might just be a dramatic thought. Didn’t make it any less scary though.

Through the metal you can hear the voice of This woman and a male. Neither seeming to care that you might be able to hear through it.

“Going after wives are never good. We’re fucked the moment she dies.” The male says.

“Tit-for-tat, Tangerine take’s my boy I take his girl. If he wants to show up and make it worse then he’s gone too. That’s how it works, that’s what makes it fair.” This woman says, another hard slam to the trunk.

“Murders never- fucking move!” The man yells just before a massive impact hits the side of the car you are still trapped in.

While you are rocked completely upside down the car is now sideways. Pain and bruises will be covering you in the next few seconds and are going to stay for days to come. Especially when you landed so hard on your side. Only thing you’re able to see is the slightly cracked glass of a taillight peeking out from the trunk carpet.

A concussion is very likely with massive of a headache. Shooting, shouting and profanity make it all worse. Not that you can take a second to lean forward and cradle your head from the pain. Not when your trunk is given light through bullet holes appearing just over your head.

“I’M STILL IN HERE!” You screamed, as if that was going to make it stop.

When it obviously doesn’t stop you look back to the taillight. Using all your strength to rip the carpet away just enough. Cringing at the pain of broken glass and mental poking and cutting into your arm while reaching out to your elbow. Waving around, grabbing the ground, and tossing whatever you could get your hands on. All the while yelling for someone to remember that you were still there.

“I see you; oh, baby, fuck yes I see you!” Tangerine, or Tangerine’s voice at least, pants just outside the trunk. His strong hand, long finger, grab hold of your so tightly he could have cracked a finger. “Stay here. Just wait.”

He’s gone just as fast as you had found him. Leaving your hand grasping the empty air as stones scrunched under his feet as he ran.

“Lemon! Got a crowbar? Or a screw or a fucking bat? Something?” Tangerine yells.

“How about the car keys, mate?” Lemon yells back, jingling in the air.

It was more than a little bit dramatic the way you fell out of the trunk. Tangerine there to catch you before you could have landed on the hard ground. He holds you close enough that no one would be able to separate you again.

At least until Lemon shows up and ruins the moment.

“Who the fuck was that, man?” He asks, gesturing almost wildly at the two bodies next to the car you had just escaped from.

If there is something Tangerine and Lemon know how to do; it’s killing. This woman, who had started it all, was left mangled from the initial impact of Tangerine reaching the scene. She never had a chance when Tangerine knew she was the one who had taken you.

The man looked to have lasted longer. Having hidden behind the car and participating in a shoot out that only lasted a couple seconds, into a few minutes.

Tangerine quickly turns your head from the bodies. Not that he was looking much better, either. His hair was a mess, some splatter had gotten onto his nice white shirt, and his bandage was bleeding again. You reach out to the bandage, covering the growing red with your hand as if you could heal it with your touch alone.

“You said we’d stick together today.” You said. Almost angry, almost crying.

He cups your face. “I’m a fucking mess, I’m sorry. Fuck, love, I’m so sorry.”

It didn’t really matter how much he apologized. This was part of his life, therefore it made it part of yours. He can make promises and even try to quit but we all know that wasn’t going to happen. Not when the movie was so good, not when Lemon was with him until the end, and especially not when you never asked him to.

“Let’s go back to the apartment, please.” You asked, staring straight to tangerine to avoid looking at your kidnapper and what was left of her.

Lemon drove while Tangerine sat shot gun. No one talked, not until you moved Tangerine’s coat and felt the box inside. Black velvet, large enough for a necklace and earrings. Perhaps even a bit more.

“What’s this?” You asked, making tangerine jolt a bit from the surprise.

He looks at the box and sighs. Taking it from your hands, popping it open to show exactly what you expected. A row of pearls and earrings, salt-water raised, and silver chain to hold them together. “Completely forgot I snatched that.”

“I thought you were doing better?” Lemon asked, rather accused, Tangerine.

“I am or was. It was an emergency, Lemon. I didn’t have time to get in the queue!” Tangerine spat, not noticing when you slipped the box back from his hands.

“All I’m hearing is an excuse, man.” Lemon retorted.

You looked good in the earrings and necklace. Leaning forward between their seats tog et a better look at them. Only then Tangerine notice when you were close enough he could place a sweet kiss on your cheek.

“You look lovely,” He says.

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

You’re gonna be taking care of him than he is you. Yeah, he’ll take care of the condom and make sure he didn’t go too far, but he’s still a newbie when it comes to aftercare. It was downright adorable watching how his face changed when you demanded him come back to bed and get into your arms.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

He loves his torso, including his arms. He was still a young man when he realized just how much he liked being built. Now, as a grown man, it’s easy to notice the effect his build has on you.

He likes your hair. Long, short, or none at all. It may be degrading but running his hand through your hair, over your head, is grounding. Being able to have something to hold, to caress and smell helps him find a reason to come home to.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Lemon is probably the only man on Earth who took health class seriously. There is no sex, vaginal or anal, without a condom. He ties it up and takes care of it the way you’re supposed to. More than once explaining to you that, even on birth-control, you need to be careful.

When it comes to oral he likes it when you swallow. Not that he’ll complain if you don’t but watching you keeping close as possible as he goes over the edge is the best thing on this world.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He’s pretty cocky about his sexual abilities. Maybe it’s because you exaggerated the first time together, or he’s just like that. Either way he knows that he’s good, anything less then your toes curling, and moans is considered a failure.

This can make him overexcited to get you cumming at least twice. So much so that you have used the safe word a few time when the overstimulation became too much.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

He got around in high school, let’s not pretend otherwise. That really is the extent of his experience. As, when he got older and started doing jobs there wasn’t as much time for hookups or tending to the ladies.

This isn’t to say he’s bad, but he is rusty. A few pointers here and there always help. No different from any other relationship.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Traditional missionary but with your legs high enough that he holds them with his forearms. It’s the best way to show off his strength and size compared to your own. It’s also the best view to see you jolt with each of his thrusts.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Not that goofy or silly during sex. He likes the moments with you and any joke or laugh made is almost purely accidental.

Once you had made a joke about his “Thomas” in your “tunnel” and that was enough to make him stop completely. Not due to being offended but just out of shock that you would try and make that connection.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He’s not that particular about his hair. He’s not gonna let it get tangled and gross but he’s isn’t super anal about upkeep either. Rather just letting it be until you mention it then he’ll do a little trim.

Otherwise he likes having hair. Especially on his chest and stomach.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

He’s pretty sweet during the sex. Not the kinda guy who goes out of his way with flowers or candles or anything. But he takes care of you, making his touches firmer rather than rough. A kind of line that only people like Lemond could straddle.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He does it quiet a bit. There’s usually a bathroom or some private area that he can run one out. Tangerine has only walked in on him twice. Both times he’s mocked him, asking if he wanted to FaceTime you since he was clearly so desperate.

Although Lemon told Tangerine to go fuck himself he did consider it.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

He’s a big dude, and he loves it: doesn’t matter your own size, he’s gonna treat you like a doll. Not giving away that anything about you is heavy or too much to handle. Especially when he can pin you and fuck you down hard.

It’s something primal that makes him want to pin you down. Of course a safe word is in order but you had yet to use it. Making feeble attempts at escaping only makes it more fun for you both.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Beds, that usually when he gets the chance to have you right. It’s becoming something of association, mainly just after you get into bed and he can simply roll over to you.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

He likes a touch of domestication. After he gets back from a job, when you promise him something good (both food and otherwise) and his clothes are being washed. He kisses you after dinner and it’s all over.

Or just doing normal things. Like when you snuggle close after going to bed. Taking his hand while walking and refusing to let go while window shopping. It’s a nice life with you and that makes him want to jump your bones without hesitations.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Threesomes, nope not happening. Whether it’s with a woman or another man he’s just not into it. It’s not just about the jealousy or absolutely hating the idea of someone else having you. It’s also a safety thing; you don’t know who Lemon might have pissed off. Whose to say you might accidentally bring a vengeful bitch into your bed?

Once you made a joke about Tangerine joining as a tag team. That was the closest Lemon had made to considering it. Only to pump the brakes the moment he considered that Tangerine might make you cum better than he could.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Eight out of ten times Lemon will turn down oral sex. This is not to say he dislikes it but it is to say he prefers his cock in your cunt more. I mean, they both start with a C so they should go together.

He’ll go down on you but that’s more to rush things along than to bring you to orgasm. Easier to slide into a wet hole than just sticking it in like a brute.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

He’s slow, likes taking his time and making you both last for as long as he can. This can result in your begging for him to speed up, and he’ll try, but he’s a bit distracted by the sounds your thighs make when they slap his own.

That doesn’t mean he super sensual. He’s strong, and he knows it. Enjoying that you can’t get him to move faster when your pinned under his weight. Light prints from his hands holding your forearms to the bed are present for a second afterwords, making sure that he doesn’t leaves marks. Or not too many at least.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

It’s honestly his preferred way of going about it. Why all the pomp and circumstance when the end goal could be reached with either moving or getting rid of certain pieces of clothing? He had no problem with lifting you on to a counter or shutting the closet door.

Obviously you have sex that isn’t rushed. It’s just that your schedules are weird and conflicting so a quickie was that much more logical. Especially when Tangerine is waiting in the car and Lemon promised saying goodbye would only take a moment.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He’s open to an extent. Everything needs to stay away from your work lives, but what’s the harm in a little road head or hand up the skirt at the theater?

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Lemon is an athlete at heart. Built like a line backer with the strength of a rugby man, you don’t stand a chance. Especially not if you’re the stubborn type and refuse to tap out.

He can usually go for a few rounds before needing a breathing. The max has been three but that was because your hands were barely able to grip the sheets anymore. That being said he’s a quick guy when it comes down to his own orgasm. When he gets the green light it’s already over for him.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Only one and it’s more so yours then his. Small vibrator that fits close to your clit, a remote coming along with it that Lemon keeps hold of when your together. He uses it like an instrument

.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He’s not one for teasing, although he’s never against being on the receiving end.

Not that he’ll admit he likes the tease. But seeing you after awhile and being forced to wait until you were “ready…” was like waiting for the main course at a five star restaurant. Making little groans at watching you undress, giving a sigh of happiness and voicing his appreciation when he finally gets to touch you.

Yeah, he doesn’t mind waiting one bit.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Lemon spends most of sexy time biting his lip. He’s aware that he talks a lot, rambles really, about whatever pops into his head at the time. But the last thing he wants to do is compare you to Percy while your impaled on his cock.

That being said, he groans like a dragon. Deep in his throat and chest that rumbles through your entire body. When a moan and groan does escape his a direct hit straight to your being. Being than any siren could sing.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

While it be too much to say he’s a jealous person it would be accurate to say he has jealous tendencies. Not just in the romantic sense either; as Tangerine has told you many times about classmates being pushed out of a chair at lunch because they took Lemon’s spot next to Tangerine.

Now, as a grown man, he’s not so violent. But he does like having an arm around you, a hand in yours or just appearing at your side when another guy happens to be talking to you.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

He’s a big dude, and has the cock to match.

Although not particularly long you can definitely say he’s thicker than most. Enough so that it takes take a second before taking him in. No matter which way you’re taking him.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Sex isn’t really the end all be all for Lemon. Yeah, he loves you, your body and that cute little sound you make when he’s all the way in. But just being with you is enough to last him for awhile.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Sleep is not on the menu after sex. Lemon is stilled too wired and starts up with the conversation while you still getting cleaned up.