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#happy taeyong day
editsty · 9 months
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🎂
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sugar-petals · 2 years
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; VERTIGO (m) ║ secret agent!taeyong x reader
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↳ :: SUMMARY even though your boss leaves the hands-on work to your capacity, agent cadet taeyong joins you for a new mission. on a plane ride, the job begins to escalate.
wc. 14k words | smut, action, angst
warnings/tags. ⚠️ 18+, femdom!reader, established relationship, violence/weapons, use of poison, body worship, protected sex, breast sucking, corruption kink, vanilla & taeyong subbing, choking, fingering, cum play, reader taking care of him 💕
published: july 1, 2022
READ IT ON AO3
⇢ note. | the prologue is pretty descriptive to set the mood, there’s bits and pieces of smut and story details, but it has a later crime plot and Ten + HyunA + Yeji guest appearances (idk i just could picture them so well in this agent universe) on top of some couple loving in depth. let’s go take down some bad guys with a sexy sidekick 😉
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PROLOGUE
Another trail of sweat took on its frequent path. Approaching the hemline of his white tank top, the shallow droplet went on trickling further down Taeyong’s neck. Which you, and it was becoming a recent favorite, loved to bend towards ever so closely: Always ready to brush your open lips against it — connected to the rhythm of moving your waist.
Although he had grown painfully hard, Taeyong would resort to clenching his teeth shut for the moment and last. No strain more wonderful than this. A thumb between your labia: Keen to put the cherry on top no matter what. You liked it a lot, maybe because it was so drastically different from what your usual day was all about. But that situation was naturally complicated.
You let his neck pick up your breath to have him shiver, whine, and bite his tongue down, but in a good way: Playfully savoring it. Taeyong’s reactions were gentle music to your ears. They always peppered the wide living room with a string of deep moans, and you adored his voice not needing to say it.
If you were honest, which was the best policy in your profession, you’d reach your climax far too early if you overdid the licking on his neck. And still, it was the forbidden fruit that constantly turned you on without a fail. That was, every time you took to bouncing on his lap to see his face and voice come right undone below. There was no sunlight in here, but the warm lamps and his thoroughly fucked-out smile made up for every missing ray. No public: No problem. Privacy was the real priority. And that way, you could meet.
Once you were comfortable, a little smile meant: Reassured. A little arm touch meant it’s okay. Although everyone thought him a nervous wreck and the immediate surface never suggested it, Taeyong was a certain baseline calm with you, and inside of you, and under you. He had a certain relaxed aura that only showed when you retreated to your secret nest.
Those things were imperceptible to outsiders and only read by the pattern of his breath, which you could memorize since you started sleeping in his bed. It was not conduct favored in this business or beatified by much luck in the long run. But you wanted him. Body, mind, scent, and everything else. Taeyong was arguably shy. Still, the feeling established itself as very mutual within only a few missions, especially in Prague and Buenos Aires, or maybe it was Milan that sealed the deal.
Although he was never outright needy, his readiness to bare himself for your eyes only had taken you by a slight surprise at first. By now, you knew why he was quick to say yes, not even via text: Eye to eye. The reason was, he really liked you. There was a genuine admiration that Taeyong didn’t feel the need to examine despite the risk of his job and position. Even if it was dangerous, he wanted to be in your arms for that little while available. And that’s how you again came together today.
Despite all goosebumps, Taeyong’s skin was warm and smelled almost softly neutral. It gratified you in a way and had an ease to it, especially when you embraced during sex. It was all unlike the dull and freezing practice range where you had spent over two days by yourself, emptying some magazines and trying out new maneuvers — as far as that was possible indoors. Routine be damned, it was good to drive back here to eat what he’d been preparing. Taeyong’s cuisine? A hundred, if not a thousand times better than the cafeteria at the godforsaken main quarters.
Agents had nothing better to do than gossip in there, and the food was all but well-cooked. Mashed, soppy, shapeless. Every last nutrient had been boiled out of it. You almost felt like that taste was still in your mouth. Recently, the staff’s idea to cover up the lack of taste with too much chili overwhelm had you running for the hills entirely, vowing to solely return for a good wantan soup — if they ever even served one. What resulted in a `so who can take more spiciness´ competition among your male colleagues to prove who had the sturdier gut and restroom at home, made you take your car and consult the real maestro of zesty food: Every other noon and night since then.
Taeyong had dumplings to share galore, the hospitality of someone who had lived alone for a too long time, and a sound feel of applying the right Scoville with a far more pin-pointed taste. It was not about the best intestines and going as pungent as possible, but what blended best on your tongue: He took that literally in other contexts as well. Which, you admitted, did entice you. Ever since Taeyong opened the door to his table, you didn’t regret staying away from the usual business at work — even if that meant driving in public, which was an inherent danger.
Little did anybody know, though, that you sat behind the steering wheel with a tightly sculpted latex disguise. It was far from easy to wear. But who suspects a confused grandpa with his rusty Japanese car, creeping through the traffic while listening to bygone music? That’s right: Not the sniper searching for a secret agent in a polished German vehicle, headed for a lunchtime date and stealthy sex with a handsome young man. So far, not a single person had bothered you on the street. People were misled so easily, so fuck `em. The costume was so believable, you didn’t even have to exchange and rotate it with another one. Down the line, you probably still will, and it’s gonna be another old confused man disguise — pragmatism.
On Fridays, Taeyong’s potatoes had a rustic several-side crisp, parting under your fork to reveal an extra buttery texture inside. They were served with slender green asparagus, one that would deliciously yield to a proper chew just how you liked it. Anyone else you knew would buy and cook them stringy, limp, and empty of all tasteful juices. Only Taeyong’s potatoes had to be cut with an extra sharp knife because their crunch was so generously thick like well-made fries.
It was not all a matter of how much salt and pepper one was using as a chef. Letting the produce roast in quality oil without turning it every five seconds, that was the key to a good meal. And you really needed one, with the reality outside of his and your flat as the ever-looming backdrop of your rendezvous. Even secret agents get hungry.
Compared to the simmered-down variety they were serving in the canteen, Taeyong’s herbs were terracotta pot-grown, being constantly rebought due to the lack of sunlight. And: freshly chopped. On an actual wooden cutting board, oaken and solid, rather than being deep-frosted or dried in one go. All to garnish a creamy dip that he had placed in the refrigerator around an hour ago already. It would melt just right on the plating without a sting that was too oniony or carrying an overload of chives. Secluding yourself like this also came with the benefit of watching each other eat in peace, far from constant surveillance, with real relish.
If you were honest. It didn’t take you a long time to figure out that Taeyong would become as well-versed in bed as he was in the kitchen. By the way you read his shifty eyes, he had a real investment to make you feel amazing head to toe. That made putting on a disguise less of a hassle, and at some point, it came naturally. Winding the stress out of each other would always be better than wasting time elsewhere, and you had no intentions of listening to your colleagues talking shit off duty.
Taeyong always put on a rose lotion after he showered, which he religiously did before you took the concealed elevator down to see him. Sometimes, you could smell a trace of new fabric conditioner on him as well. Unsurprisingly, his groceries came via online shopping. All anonymous — but he ordered quite the amounts, and new things that interested him. The post staff dropped it off in an inconspicuous black garbage can, which was actually a long slender downward tunnel, or slide actually, towards his apartment that could only be unlocked from the inside.
The scent of whatever he bought himself last week was sort of cottony and perfume-like, but nothing harsh that deterred from the night-time mood the two of you shared on his sofa: A towel underneath, full-well knowing how things always turned out when you straddled him, his face in your palms.
Taeyong had one gorgeous scarface. Dark eyes, dark brows, and a unique chin line that you could spot from a mile away. Taeyong had received the scar in a bar fight down in Manila, south of the Basilica, where you were busy wrestling a corrupt panderer onto a wooden counter. A lackey came to join, and Taeyong got a blunt knife handle to the cheekbone, thankfully missing the eye. He was lucky it was not the sharpened blade. As of today, his right eye still carries the double mark, which you said was shaped almost like a tooth, or a pair of wings. Maybe even a rose.
In person, the story was not so romantic. The sheer force of the backhand had Taeyong pass out on the spot, which sped up the process of you finishing the job by going crazy. Taeyong was entirely new on the job then, with no outdoor training hours to speak of. As soon as you completed the mission, you patched him up, reported back, moved on. On paper.
His face hurt pretty badly for two weeks, the bruise was actually throbbing. Which made you more concerned than expected. Taking him to your home hideaway for a healing week led to a first unexpected hookup. Which was no longer the appropriate term a month later, when you took the informal and rather covert step of making Taeyong your boyfriend off work with a bouquet of red roses delivered through the tunnel, and he was too drunk in love to feel any more pain in the eyes.
As of now, Taeyong may still seem a little shame-faced in the way he kisses you, but he never rejected a call on his available days, dusk or dawn.  You were crazy hot in the mornings and he gave the relief. Even tonight, which meant waiting to get the permission of your bosses’ bureau to show up and receive a new mission’s task, he’d not leave you high and dry beforehand. A big task ahead had no way of stopping what you did privately. Long as there was enough time.
Being a cadet, Taeyong wasn’t entirely involved in the day-to-day of main agents. He had the spare hours to create a little love nest in this cellar flat. He stayed on demand to assist as per the bosses’ judgment. The way things were set up worked out. It wasn’t an ivory tower, but the area definitely kept him far from harm off duty and immersing himself in projects that were still too dangerous for a beginner. One of your closest colleagues had never returned from California four years ago, leaving you with a Christmas tree without a single present underneath.
Taeyong knew from experience he had to be realistic, protecting himself by saying no rather than yes too quickly.  He asked you for a few measured words of advice more often than not. And — you could fuck without anyone in the know about how far your relationship had progressed. Which was a huge point of vulnerability for any agent: something to be obscured as rigorously as possible. But you still tried your best not to lose momentum. So many restrictions. But then again, you wanted to enjoy it.
The caress of your nose against his jaw was usually brief. You wound up focusing on the movement of your knees on the sofa padding, grinding your shins into the elastic pillow. The more you sat upright, the easier and more pleasing it was, so you focused on stabilizing your posture. Taeyong could barely keep his eyes open nor his own lips shut in any way.
His head was tilted back until its farthest point was met with stable cushioning. The leaning left his chest and shoulders exposed to your view, and gave you ample space to hold onto once the tanktop found its way flying on the — as always: clean — floor. His exhales were all so unrestrained and started to pick up a colorful variety that was far from being monotone.
„You know I missed you big time,“ you went on guiding his hands, his arms around your back, which automatically pulled you closer, making every thrust a little more accurate in a pace akin to slow-mo. Taeyong gave you a good time so juicy, other people couldn’t even fathom it. Gladly. Whenever he was dipping inside of you to the brim, the stretch felt wet and open, making it convenient to pick up some more passion and give it to him, see his jaw drop, and whisper all kinds of sweet things.
Taeyong always asked before touching your ass, and you allowed him. His arms were so long and thin, the fingers bony, arching from a rather broad palm. It was nice to hold casually, and he kneaded pizza dough like he was a professional baker. You wanted all of that to cup you, and not just your ass. Whether it was that or your breasts or your waist or your shoulders, and sometimes the nape or the face, the way your boyfriend touched you was light and feathery on your skin.
His veins, however, clearly showed as he did, something you liked to look at up close. You gave this man a healthy circulation, and you could attest to the same effect on your own body. A+ on every fitness test. They didn’t know about your secret workout, did they. If it was Taeyong, you were throbbing hard and thought of his touch between your legs. Other agents didn’t interest your eyes, they already picked Taeyong for you.
And it was not just the extra stamina because you spent some extra hours in bed. No matter how suave or fast, the wow factor of Taeyong’s bendy coordination was more than just a private show of personal adult entertainment. It also had you way ahead of the curve compared to your spiteful colleagues. Not the female agents. The guys.
According to a majority of them, Taeyong was actually no good. Devoid of talent or manliness, a skinny `piece of gun fodder´ at best. One asked you, right to your face, whether you picking Taeyong as a junior partner was a poorly concealed lavender marriage, and if he could see anything at all during target practice. Said one-way conversation resulted in a two-time fractured shoulder joint that your boss turned a blind eye to. You hardly snapped, but that time, you did.
Taeyong had no clue what a lavender marriage even meant. He was instead busy attempting to comprehend why you would even partner with him of all people. Looking at your profile, he thought himself nowhere near your league. You had simply walked up to him who was hidden in the last row during the recruit. Taeyong was the one who had no outlook or clarity on whether signing up at the HQs had been a good idea. Turns out, it was.
„Then give me the hardest guy to train“ was your rebel yell after your boss had convinced you to direly choose a co-agent. You’ll have more options and range during missions, she said, being faced with your stern rejection at first. You really wanted to put the breaks on that project at first until you had a good look at the novice files on your desk. For some reason, they appeared far more promising than your seniors and equals. The naive headshots looked yet-untainted by the general culture of the headquarters, which notoriously ruined even the best of personalities. Maybe it was time to give your own spin to a new generation. You could still avoid eating at the canteen.
You went to bed with the sudden thought of instructing someone so virgin to the business, someone who could be taught some of your ways. Maybe they had their own perfect strategy slumbering in them, too, and it only had to be discovered, and developed, and guarded against other people’s opinions. That night made you understand why your boss was so hellbent to play match-maker in the first place. Sharing your knowledge meant, to a certain degree, preserving it. Her suggestion came from an unexpected place of respect.
A recruiting round was assembled the next day. You gave a quick pep talk in front of the gathering and had a fair warning speech ready — and then, you made your way through the crowd. Looking each contestant in the eye: And down on their shoes, which could tell you every secret and story of their life.
Consisting almost entirely of rapid-fire gunslingers, the first row was both overconfident and taunting, which you often found yourself mirroring back to them on other occasions already. So that was exhausting enough since it made you contribute to the madness by provocation. They were the majority, but a pure nuisance in the way their smirks were lopsided, always trying to challenge you over your status. Against all standards, though, none of the present mid-rankers were impressive to your eye. Being muscular did not make a good agent in your book, nor did a sordid smile. Only a crime prevented constituted some bragging rights. Especially in the upper tier.
Then again, the merely five high-rankers in the company were utter bores. Bores knew what they were doing, didn’t need any more credit, minded their own lane, had decent popularity, and didn’t attract unnecessary attention. Perhaps, the true sign of a professional. There was a reason you were only third-best, not first, and other agents were more respected. Being quite as subtle and demure was not your method of choosing, and you chronically went against most of the grain in your quite literal field.
Number one and two were loners themselves, staring you down or refusing to attend at all: Just like you would have if someone else needed a partner. In fact, only Agent C, fourth in excellence, had seriously volunteered to be checked out by you, not fearing to be diminished. A man commonly nicknamed Ten — who actually had a memorable face to go by and a convincingly cool way of presenting himself, which made you consider him.
As far as hearing things through the grapevine was concerned? The name ‚Ten’ referred to the amount of bullets he needed to incapacitate a hundred members of any given organized crime ring. He seemed highly flexible in build, level-headed, witty even. But after a brief handshake, you could tell he was in his own category just like you.
Ten‘s shoes were worn-down from constant practice and cat-like climbs. His feisty glance was demanding rather than accepting. To the disappointment of your boss, you discarded the possibility of partnering up entirely for now. Set in his ways, there was nothing you could mentor Ten in, and he was more efficient on his own. He was not a prick, but he could exert control. Although you likely would communicate very well, your strategies would clash in a hot minute. So that was Ten.
After your boss had figured out that you would rather teach than collaborate and had a “peculiar, uncontainable protection fetish“, she proposed you take a really new cadet under your wing. The ones at the back. Freshmen. Sophomores. So far, so good. But even that made her raise each brow after you nominated Taeyong, who was about the worst aiming sniper among the crowd and by far the frailest. In the words of the first row, his body had assets that his future profession had no use for: „Unless he wanted to work as a rent boy and take drugs“.
Taeyong stood out to you exactly because there was no glace to meet nor speak of. Everyone else had such a steely gaze. He, however, avoided looking up and had concealed himself almost entirely in the crowd. You realized the spontaneous intelligence of standing behind the last row. It avoided the direct trouble of being inside the heated mid-rank agents’ atmosphere where malice was darted left and right. Taeyong hadn’t heard about `Agent Y’ in detail, but his instinct told him you were the biggest possible threat in the room besides your boss. He was entirely correct without any prior knowledge, which you gave him props for.
A suspiciously long handshake told you that Taeyong would not at all be helpless if he was hanging from a rooftop rail with one hand: And that he was more interested than he thought. His shoes were also custom sown — actually by himself, which he confirmed to you when questioned. They were mismatching the color of the classic black agent equipment and outfit that everyone else was wearing. If he could hide with bright red shoes in a sea of black clothes? Violate the dress code on a day that could be the opportunity of a lifetime for even upper-ranking agents? He could do anything. „Blatantly obvious talent,“ you told your boss.
On top of his unusual getup, Taeyong had actual high-quality foundation on his face, and the hair was taken care of strand by strand. You knew he could be a master of disguises, and he was meticulous. The crowd, however, did not react well when you unceremoniously declared Agent T your counterpart. It was weird to you that they wanted him to be the cocky and more experienced one. You started to understand the implicit code that the agents were pursuing, so you deliberately praised Taeyong’s good posture and way of presenting himself in front of the crowd just to spit on them. You had the mic. They did not.
You were soon well aware that Taeyong did not have a reckless bone in him indeed. Which, vice versa, some agents commended you for on the other hand — but overwhelming envy was the usual price. Which meant two being envied, since his position next to you should have been other people’s career launch. At lunch, Taeyong and yourself often had to overhear their talk about his supposed weak mentality, lacking stature, and no sensibility at all. In the end, both of you found yourself stared down and talked of, but more comfortable with being ostracized than slandered every waking minute, in the hawkeye presence of most other agents.
You got to know Taeyong’s character first-hand. At least five times a week when you met outside of work. He was far away from a walking human shield type of bodyguard, or a readiness to give an order as a superior. He had a quiet endurance with the will to exercise finer techniques. That he was friendly made his good looks be the exact cover to his book, Taeyong was pleasant to be around (which was not even remotely the task of an agent), and surprisingly people-savvy during missions: Which was exactly your blind spot. You tended to ignore its importance. Taeyong, on the other hand, was good at dealing with citizens. He had social intelligence. People smarts galore. Which is why he was a good lover.
Besides a nod he wouldn’t answer, because you felt what he was gonna say. Where Taeyong’s hints of dialogue, soft-spoken as they always were, had been a primary way to turn you on twelve months ago, his concentrated wordlessness was now a natural consequence of a deeper pleasure. You felt how his entire body made you feel tingly and excited. The slip and slide came pretty much on its own, and he had no problems keeping up.
Although he loved to cuddle up to you in the latter, Taeyong’s sofa clearly had the upper hand over his bed. The proper, ‚human‘ shape allowed for both of you to let it out, crawl around, roll around, while at the same time having a back-up to find relaxing positions on. Being seated together was easy to maintain since you both loved to draw it out and interrupt with kisses, which took all of your attention and stopped your either hip thrusts dead in their tracks. Then again, you would shy away from keeping things too rhythmical and all-the-same for more than five minutes. The secret was to allow the surprise.
Taeyong anticipated a plunge-in every second when the later phase approached but was always left in perpetual gnawing shock at how you would glide down on him. Sometimes sharply, then retreating, sometimes slowly pushing, with your fingers squeezing just below his jaw to take his luscious breath. During those heartbeats, you felt his hard swallows and struggle with suspense, the tremble of his eyelids, the plushness of his fuzzy lips, keeping Taeyong on a burning hot edge, and yourself in filled-up, dripping anticipation that was very much the same patience required for your job. Sex was unintentional training.  
A balance of keeping it going and some quick adjustments made for an enjoyable half an hour. Sometimes, you deliberately gripped him by the base to have him slip out, holding him tight, only to dip him in again. Things like that made Taeyong go crazy. If you brought your feet up on the couch padding to squat on him, Taeyong would use his every ounce of core strength to meet you halfway, resulting in a sloppy mess of pre-cum inside the condom, and an even juicier aftermath when he used his skinny fingers rubbing zig-zag motions into your clit by the millimeter.
Every time was different, but your lips loved to engorge and surround him, coat him evenly with a glazing wetness. It was not a bad thing that you’d gotten fully used to Taeyong being inside of you so often now. It wasn’t a rut. The contrary was the case. He really fit you well, and it was fun. You were grateful you found him at the agency, but you also cursed it for making your life more difficult than it should be — by the virtue of certain individuals being there. A complex mission you could handle. An insulting comment? Pissed you off.  
CHAPTER 1 - AT THE OFFICE
„No,“ she shakes her head. Then, your boss adjusts her glasses to pass you a stamped-up stack of documents. „Your goal: Is to find and arrest the Target. That’s all. As of 5 PM, you’ll be flying to Turkey.“
„Flying. Really.“
A quick glance across the material tells you everything your boss thinks that you think you already know. If that in and of itself is a ploy, you don’t bother as much as with the two glasses of mineral water in front of you. That is where the real conversation takes place.
You currently spin around your designated one in either palm, observing the texture of its content. Your boss keenly watches.
„What, does any of you prefer to go by bike?“ she laughs, and retreats the documents from the desk in one efficient swipe. The papers land below your vision. As always, in an audibly large drawer that locks shut automatically with three metal bolts. „You see. He can still stop and smell the roses afterward. I have nothing against that.“
„Ma’am,“ you cross your arms. „It’s not that.“
„Do you doubt his ability to assist you, then? Many of your fellow agents do. I’m hearing a lot of things.“
You don’t let yourself be distracted from the water glass. At this point, you think you figured it out. On most work days, your boss and you play the game of ‚is it spiked or not?‘ for the sake of a tradition since you debuted here six years ago. Which, to make it extra difficult, includes not being caught while spiking the water. So far, she didn’t have to pass you an antidote, and vice versa.
Today, you’re sure your drink has some kind of generic sedative in it. Hers you prepped with a harmless dose of simple raspberry flavor. Transparent, but not too hard to detect by nose. To be fair — the bosses’ office was a half-dim, overly modern dark grey room. Then again: You always trained each other for any scenario, in any environment. Being ready was everything. The rest was just banter.
„Well. What you hear is your business, but I just don’t agree with idiots,“ you quip, wondering if she’s the one who’s doubting.
„Whatever you say.“
„And, I didn’t recruit Taeyong to be my partner so he can show that he’s capable of this or that. His job is different from mine.“
With the raise of a brow, you get cozy lounging in your seat, which is deliberately crafted to turn awkwardly uncomfortable after ten minutes. It’s not a bad design in your eyes. Your boss has figured out a way that people would stop wasting her time. You always bring a pillow.
„I’m aware of your strategy. But I don’t believe you picked out Agent T just because he’s such a natural distraction within any operation environment.“
„To be frank, Taeyong is the sexiest in here.“
„Agent Y. Please.“
„It’s not like I’m not gonna shoot my shot with him one day.“
„Could you be more constructive.“
„Huh?“
„Just, just tell me what the problem with flying is already.“
It took forever until you had her there. You thought, maybe she was the one pulling a wasted-time trick on you instead. People would usually only cave when they were uncomfortable, and only then listen to you properly, and cut to the chase. You sighed out loud.
„Taeyong doesn’t have a fear of flights. He has literal flight panic. Like, the really serious version. He doesn’t function anymore.“
„Why did you not say that earlier!“
„Well. You wouldn’t let me.“
„You were free to talk.“
„Like, come on. You just let me speak after you fell for the strategy yourself. Not too aware— are you.“
The strategy being: The subject of Taeyong distracting anyone so much, they would finally do what you wanted.
The trick was almost lethally effective. Especially `admitting´ that you were `flirting´ with him would have people on your strings like a puppet. They were either too nosy or repulsed to retain their own goal focus. For the most part, though: They were nosy, feeling a compulsion to know more. That made them dependent and far out of their lane.
Using fake scenarios about personal relationships was the single-most insidious tactic to pull. It was trivial, juicy, loaded with emotion and weakness, while nobody could really tell if it was a trick or not. However, most people did believe that you wanted to shoot your shot with Taeyong, and fell for your gossip bait. Which had them neglecting what they actually wanted to do, which could be exploited in your favor. A dating rumor and people’s double standards always had more power than a single round of ammunition.
They did not suspect you had been dating forever. At least not for that long. You as a team had specialized in fooling people through their own curiosity, or even their discomfort with you being horny for him. The other way around, they would cheer for Taeyong and give it all green lights. But this way, people got mad and slammed the door shut in disgust — which was easy to deliberately trigger when you wanted to be left in peace. Even your boss was not immune, which was amusing since she knew about this strategy. But maybe — she could also fool you by playing along to make you believe it was an efficient tactic, could she.
„Agent Y, I don’t like you applying your own tricks on me.“
„They’re working. So I wouldn’t care who it is I’m using them on.“
„Goodness. Well, but what about him, then. If he has fear of flights. You should pick another agent to come with you. Like Agent L.“
„His name tells you exactly what he always takes.“
„Then Agent W.“
„He’s a bully. I don’t work with bullies. Haven’t you noticed he’s kind of strange? There’s a reason why nobody wants to go near his office.“
„I’ll look into it. What about Agent R.“
„He might be tall and muscular, but it slows him down on top of the lacking talent. He just looks like an agent rather than being one.“
„You might be correct,“ your boss reaches for the glass of water, drinking a decent amount now. „But say, Agent P has had plenty of successes recently.“
Was she testing you? Your blood was already boiling. Maybe that was her own strategy, then: Making whack suggestions to quiz people’s morals.
„Successful at being a sly ass jerk. I don’t want your C-list celebrities, boss. I only work with Agent T, nobody else. He belongs with me. We are a team.“
„If you stick together so much, see how you’ll manage him puking around for the time being. You can go by train on your way back, whatever. But it’s urgent right now.“
„That’s why you’re recommending my absolute dumbest `colleagues’? Being in a hurry messes with our organization and rationale.“
„You sure preach a lot, but I guess I need to check up on them more often.“
„I prefer to call it firing. But that’s just me.“
„Listen. I need to work with what I have in an emergency. Ten is not available yet. This is not a joke. Especially if it’s Istanbul. The spy is currently said to be somewhere in the Eastern boroughs. If you manage to meet her in time, Agent B will have more recent information about our Target’s whereabouts. That’s all I have to say.“
„You do?“
„Have a good flight. Do your best. Seems like I can’t help you.“
„I’m not the one who has to be told to step their game up.“
„At least you admit that. Somebody really should tell him. Why not you? In case he’s so unwell, Agent T might just put a roadblock in this mission. You need to give him a real pep talk. If what you say about his condition is true, though.“
„No, I meant you. Not Taeyong.“
„Are you sure?“
„If you want to test if I’m paying attention, you should hold your other agents to the same standard.“
„I will refrain from recommending you partners in the future, then. But I seriously need you to stay focused. We don’t go after this man for fun and banter. There are some spies out there who exist to extract very vital information.“
„I’ve seen the briefing. I know the Target found a way to get the file.“
„Really? I thought you were busy winking at Agent T.“
„I flirted with him at the same time as learning that the Target hacked our damn supercomputer. Using a virus program called The W.B.E Plus, which works on a code that employs a string of calculated—.“
„Okay. You did listen. Just get me that guy.“
„Now we’re talking.“
„Good luck with your job. I know it’s not an easy mission.“
„…to mess up.“
The last project was times tougher. You had to in-ear maneuver Taeyong out of a noose around his neck, a chair barely under his feet. The trick was simply to step through his back-tied arms, grip upwards, and kick his legs up on the beam where the rope was hanging from, and climb underneath the attic. A local New York clan of wealthy brokers had been smuggling stolen diamonds, which turned out to be hidden in an air duct Taeyong proceeded to climb through after he was free. Having to get the hell out because the brokers were shooting every available rifle in his direction. You had to get him off the roof with bare hands, and his bulletproof vest had to shots in them. Talk about easy.
„I bet my barber that Agent T is not actually afraid of flights and you’re trying to cause confusion,“ your boss readjusted her jacket — for no reason whatsoever, it was her habit.
Said barber is a lot to go by, her haircut is always trimmed to the millimeter at the nape. All while people never seemed to figure out when she got the haircut downtown, which would make her vulnerable to attack, as any agent going out in public. Only you figured she cut her own hair at home. You commend her swearing by yourself, but remained skeptical in your chair.
„You need more luck fixing that shit firewall. And our Target already sounds like the biggest amateur in history.“
„He managed to obtain intel even you couldn’t access.“
„Boss. The fact that we learned of his existence in time already shows he’s leaving every trace he can. Because he’s dumb.“
„Deliberately, I think. That’s why I want Agent T on his best performance. You might walk straight into a trap. It all looks like it.“
„50-50. This guy is trying way too hard.“
„If you say so. Better watch than make a guess. We’ll see each other in three days.“
„Three days?“
„Don’t tell me you need four.“
„Please. I’ll have him delivered to the officers by the time you have your breakfast tomorrow. We’ll absolutely be smelling the roses by then.“
„Then your strategy really must be excellent.“
„Count on it like your black suit. Now hand me the equipment already. We’re flying to Istanbul. If you want me to be serious, let’s get serious.“
CHAPTER 2 - THE PLANE
The sleek private jet had a comfortable beige interior, but Taeyong was still tilted sideways in his seat. A rather large construction for three people in a row, padded with a smooth material. He’d already walked in wary. Little exasperated sighs, looking around, quickly retreating to his spot. Taeyong was not secure on his feet at all. And, you feared, he would be until a longer time later.
Now, his face looked even more preoccupied. If you were honest, it seemed like he could pass out any second. Even if the altitude was now stable, something wasn’t right. The take-off had already been rocky, causing Taeyong to squeeze his eyes shut and not move for minutes. Complete shutdown, the breath in hitching panic. He sat there like a statue of rock. If you wanted to catch a spy together, he’d have to recalibrate his every cell at Istanbul airport before you could even start.
You handed him your own black coat to wrap around himself, which revealed the knives and rifles strapped to your shoulder harness. Since they were used to helping out agents, the flight attendants weren’t looking — but the pilot was. One gun on the left, one on the right. An especially well-crafted design of a Glock model, easier to load than ever, easier to aim than ever: Not much recoil either. The knives, one combat, and one utility: To use for cutting Taeyong an apple, so he had something to chew on. Slowly, but surely, but without any interest. He was staring into space and continued to freeze. The temperature in here did suck ass.
You closed the blinds of the window he was seated next to, and ushered Taeyong to sit further away from it. Although you took his seat and the dangerously steep view was now blocked, his eyelids seemed heavy, and Taeyong was dazed in his seat, sort of caught in his own world. He had accepted your coat and the apple slices wordlessly, with a mere nod, which was uncharacteristic of him. Taeyong always said thanks and smiled.
„Miss Hwang — if you could get Agent T a warm glass of mint water,“ you addressed one of the attendants, who asked you to call her Yeji. Some minutes later, she also brought along a freshly made sandwich for you to stack up on a plate. Meanwhile: The plane, as much as it irked you, was not steady in the clouds. It felt like a strange kind of turbulence.
„Thank you,Yeji,“ you said. „Is there any problem with the aircraft?“
„The pilot just joined the crew,“ she answered. „It takes him a couple minutes to get used to the cockpit and route. He’s usually flying to South America and the Pacific.“
„I see. New to Europe, huh.“
„We’ll manage.“
To your surprise, the mint water took a while to arrive from the cabin. You decided to relocate the two of you into the bedroom at the back of the plane, so Taeyong could lie down supine. It took three minutes to even get him there. Beforehand, though, you had to slam the cabin blinds shut — of the more than panoramic window that allowed for a ginormous view onto approaching cities. Taeyong had quickly averted his gaze and just let himself drop on the mattress. His cramping upper body told you he was completely nauseous from walking.
The actual cabin bed was rather slim, but still broad enough for you to sit at the edge — after you had chucked the mint water into a sink of the adjacent bathroom.
It was fucking loaded with chloride tincture.
Which had no business being in there.
In fact, it was one of the ways to poison a drink that your boss had warned you about the very most. Taeyong did not have a sip.
A blurry residue had shown at the bottom, and the smell was slightly off.  Chloride never mixed well with mint. You didn’t tell Taeyong, but grabbed a lemonade bottle from your suitcase instead. He didn’t seem to care that you gave him something else to drink but went on rubbing his stomach. You put your hand there, on top of his.
„Sorry. I’m so lightheaded…“
Because he was so short of breath, Taeyong’s mumbled apologies were easily cut up by the plane’s approaching turbulence. A bumping and side-to-side motion that slowly increased, with Taeyong gripping your hand wide-eyed in shock. You even started to feel it yourself, in your stomach, just how uneven the trail of flight through the air was. It was starting to get really annoying. And time-consuming. In an ideal case, you would be reading up some extra files on the case together, or have a chat with Agent B over the intercom. That one seemed to be disabled right now — what a coincidence.
„They’ll crash it,“ Taeyong breathes out hard. His blonde hair sticks to his scalp, and you can tell by his face and hands how he’s breaking into a cold sweat. On the job, Taeyong’s subtle makeup never slacks. You’ve never seen it runny, or even ill-applied. But now, it’s caking up on his forehead and nose. The bumps return, and the air pressure drops. The temperature is unbearable. Since Turkey is piping hot, of course you didn’t pack something any warmer into your suitcase.
„That’s not a damn weather thing, man. What’s going on in this plane.“
„I really feel like dying…“
„Come here,“ you lift him, reaching under his right armpit, hoisting up Taeyong to stumble across the bedroom area. „The bathroom has wall grips to hold onto. I’ll handle the rest, okay. Just stay there.“
The promise of a smaller room seems to be the only thing you can come up with. Taeyong is not claustrophobic. As you’ve observed him, it’s the opposite. A tight windowless area seems to relieve his vertigo, but how to deal with the shaky ground: His legs are none the wiser. At least he has something firmer to hold on to.
„Sit down on the floor. Here.“
He does, he coughs, and fumbles to get a towel, which you help him wet with hot water. Taeyong buries his face in the wet fabric, with only a slight relief following. If only this shit bathroom had a thermostat. The bumping doesn’t really slow, how would it. Because Taeyong continues to have chills, you knot the belt of the coat tighter around him. Somehow, the ground feels like it lost most of its gravity. He already started to cry. You stroke his back in a short embrace.
„I’ll be right back.“
CHAPTER 3 - THE COCKPIT
„Don’t look at me like that. Yes, I can just barge in like this!“
You briefly settle yourself into the creaky co-pilot seat, adjust the steering wheel on either side of the board, smack away the hand of the pilot that tries to interfere — and press what you deem worthy of an AUTO-PILOT button. Click. There we go.
And now you hope the turbulence is tamed. Sure, your boss had you take helicopter and related lessons, knowing you’d need them. But every plane was different. So, the shot in the dark is more like a shot in the dark, in outer space, while a black hole is sucking you in. The motor of the plane did sound different now if flying by ear was anything to go by.
„Hey! You’ll make us crash!“
The pilot was still furious that you just stormed in without further ado, trying his best to reverse what you just did.
„Huh. Oh really.“
You simply protected the AUTOPILOT button by shielding it with your foot.
„What are you doing? Ga— get back there! The back of the plane! You’re not authorized to be here.“
The uniformed pilot, tall and bearded, an East Coast white American, especially going by accent — someone most agents would describe as conventionally attractive, in fact — looks even more indignant than your boss after she learned that some troll used up all her spare ammunition in the practice shooting range last Friday. Well, tough luck for that person.
„Your flying’s the most terrible I’ve seen, man. You get out of here. We still gotta arrive in one piece. So?“
For proper emphasis, you decide to pull your left gun from the harness, and prop it firmly against his temple.
„This is my plane! Put your .44 away, what is this! I will report you!“
„Not really. That’s my bosses’ private jet, frickin’ idiot. We’re just borrowing it because it’s extra fast.“
 From behind the curtain, Yeji and one of her colleagues begin to peek into the cockpit now, alarmed by the rise in tone. The other lady with an updo seems to be a little older, and her nameplate simply reads Hyuna rather than a last name.
„What’s going on here?“ she says. „Any problems?“
Which almost makes you laugh given that you’re in here with your gun pulled.
„Simply open the curtain,“ you address Yeji, while the pilot keeps on raging.
„She’s attacking me!“
„You’re the safety hazard,“ you proceed to point your gun down south.  Maybe that will drive the point home. „Stand up or I’ll turn your crotch into a kitchen sieve. I don’t want you crashing us dead at fucking 11 AM, you amateur.“
„I’m a licensed pilot!“
„Hyuna, Yeji. This gentleman wants to be escorted out.“
„Have you gone insane?“
„Pardon. This jackass wants to be escorted out.“
 Hyuna seems to have experience with these kinds of situations judging by how she tugs the pilot out of his seat in just one go, merely using his collar — by virtue of knowing it would strangle him otherwise if he tried to stay seated. He’s flailing around, but already out of balance. The collar pull seems to be the latest genius hack in the agent academy, where flight attendants are typically recruited: Which you now see on full display.
In fact, you’ll send a nice present to your boss for providing you with this competent crew.
„Thank you very much,“ you smile, politely, then kick the pilot to the ground aiming at the backside of his knees. He goes down outside of the cockpit, struggling, head first on the ground.
„Got any masking tape lying around somewhere, ladies?“
„Just a moment, Agent Y. We are fully stocked,“ Yeji turns to the side of the attendant’s cabin, opening a closet.
For good measure, you knock the gun across the back of the pilot’s head twice while Hyuna climbs into the cockpit, flicking switches, turning nozzles, and belting herself into the main chair. Maybe a third hit is not a bad idea, just to make sure he’s entirely unconscious. For a guy this buff, he seemingly forgot to work out his temples and build some muscle there. Just a thought of yours.
It’s hard to drag the pilot along a meter or two, but Yeji has dealt with drunk passengers before, she says. The two of you lift the more-than-limp man’s body into the first seat in sight. The one with an absolutely brilliant view. A couple feet of tape secure him fast in place. Eyes, hands, feet, chest. The fabric of his stupid fucking uniform sticks to the tape like velcro. Nice job.
You exhale in one go, locking your gun back in its holster. Finally a safe flight — the plane is steady in the air. Captain Hyuna is in charge, baby. Istanbul here we come. Yeji opens the snack bar and fridge with sweets and cake, serving some chilled beverages on top of it.
You stride back to Taeyong’s cabin to inform him about the fight, but he’s firmly locked into the bathroom. Knocking twice, he emerges, asking if there’s no threat and whether you’re okay. He does look a little better — not as shaky. So it actually wasn’t a weather thing indeed. Just bad fucking flying.
You compliment him for doing the right thing protecting himself. What was he gonna do, charge out of his room to help and faint on the spot instead?  Be the easy fodder people taunted him about? Taeyong is now best suited for lying down in bed and warming up properly since Hyuna dialed up the temperature. You sort out your things to carry and then proceed to just relax. Half an hour before touchdown: Turkish delight and apple tea — spiked with nothing else but a dash of cinnamon.
 „So here goes our Target,“ you give a nod towards the arriving congregation of agents. They arrive in a loose formation, about six of them in total. „Sorry for the delay.“
After Hyuna gives him a firm push between his shoulder blades, the tied-up pilot lands between two officers who promptly snap some handcuffs around his wrists. Hyuna must have a magic touch for hurling big guys around like that. Well, sometimes — you can learn from a cadet, not just your boss.
„Good job ratting him out,“ Agent B shakes hands with you. „Boss already texted me saying it’s actually five minutes before her breakfast time now.“
„Right. Slight time shift.“
„We’ll get this guy transported to the headquarters in Cyprus, actually,“ B checks her watch.
Cyprus being code for Athens — just to fuck with anyone who might have installed a spy cam somewhere around here.
„You’ll have fun,“ you drag along your suitcase, which is jam-packed with snacks that Yeji gave you. Who knows. It’s always time for snacks, right. „He’s even more of an amateur than I thought. Unskilled pilot my ass.“
„Copy. Is Agent T okay?“
Climbing down the airstairs extra slowly, Taeyong now wobbles onto his feet next to you, hands on his knees after his lopsided descent. You hook your arm around his shoulder to have him standing properly. He’s sort of back to balance, or, well, getting there.
„I didn’t even know what was going on…“ he shakes his head, clearly dizzy with fright and sweatiness still. Agent B courteously helps him out of the coat, as the heat on the airport is simply scorching head to toe. At least someone would treat Taeyong well instead of just dismissing him. Maybe the Turkey division was ahead of the curve. They valued results — not looks, nor being an unusual character.
„Taeyong, you’re actually the reason I found out,“ you strike an encouraging tone, watching the officers frame the pilot while walking off to a black van. That one must be a cooking pan inside, with that level of heat bouncing off the glossy surface.
„I was?“
„As always.“
  A final nod. Agent B waves across her shoulder, then grabs the van keys while picking up a phone call in the distance. A turquoise little taxi appears in the meantime, the driver lurking out of the window in search for you, whom you beckon with a loud Merhaba.
„Really, what was the clue, then?“
„Back at the hotel Taeyong,“ you put your index across his lips, then pick up your luggage. „Relax now. Gotta ground yourself first here. I’ll pay the taxi driver extra to turn down the radio and drive slower than slow.“
Which wouldn’t be a problem: Today, the immense traffic was actually a blessing. And now, an aircon was actually necessesary.
„This all happened so fast,“ Taeyong holds onto his suitcase that now serves as a walking aid across the concrete of the airport. The food and drink have definitely raised his mood a little, but his legs are still going a bit side to side.
„I know,“ you mumble. „I mean. You almost got poisoned.“
Probably not with an instantly lethal substance, but still. Taeyong, however, doesn’t seem to be shocked about it. Now that you think again — you never passed him anything that has lemon in it, and why would you pour away the mint water. Taeyong doesn’t really like acidity.
„I knew you were acting strange about that glass of water,“ he says, and you open the trunk of the taxi to put the luggage in.
CHAPTER 4 — THE HOTEL ROOM
You’re reassured when he comes back knocking. Sometime earlier, you sent him there with all the time of the day available. In fact, the whole thing took a whopping three hours that you could use for a bit of your own me-time, food indulgence, antique market barter, and incognito sightseeing. Yes: You had your confused old man mask with you at all times. What else! It was just as effective as anywhere else, just a lot warmer underneath.
But back to Taeyong. Around 10:30 PM, he returns from the hotel’s spa and hammam fully exfoliated, massaged, steamed, soaped-down, heated up, joint cracked, thermal bathed, gently oiled, shaved, waxed, groomed, and pampered with extra heavy, but aromatic Turkish coffee as a perfect finish. But most importantly: Happy. Smiling ear to ear.
As part of the package, they even had a barber niche. A broad, bearded man from Eastern Anatolia decided to comb and razor Taeyong’s hair into a dynamic shape — and dyed it back to jet black on his own accord: „More handsome!“. Which Taeyong was decisively fine with, and you anyway.
Although the previous crisp blonde dye already gave him a fresh and masculine look, black was more mysterious and framed his face in a sensual way. Which, as you could tell by his cheeks, the barber had massaged all over, ardently moisturizing the skin full throttle like Taeyong’s life depended on it. You can tell they truly pulled his body in all directions and most likely karate chopped his back. Still a more harmless ride than flying with an amateur spy pilot.
Inside his fluffy white gown, Taeyong flops down on the hotel room’s queen-size bed. Humming and sighing, but this time, with bliss, head still in the old thermal bath under the vaulted ceilings. You knew he’d like the area and how challenging the massage techniques were. You could never, but he was into those kinds of things. Essentially boneless, he’s flushed and gooey in the limbs all over. The shock of the flight? Taeyong’s masseur slapped it out of him with a record-speed neck massage.
You, on the other hand, got some new detailed intel on your phone, then popped under the shower and stored away your guns — within reach, at least. As far as you know, Hyuna and Yeji have since gotten due praise from the academy chief, heading out to a café undercover for the night. While Taeyong’s arms and legs got squeezed in ten different directions, you were brushing your teeth after having a little cup of sage tea with biscuits at the hotel’s Orangerie.
You even played with a striped little cat that somehow managed to climb onto your room’s tiny balcony. Or, well — you always choose a lower floor because of Taeyong’s fear of heights, even if that makes you predictable in the eyes of an enemy. But who cares. Your black blade knives can deal with anybody’s vital points, nobody’s above their own humanity. As of now, you’re leaning in a chair and enjoy a lit-up evening sight of the Bosphorus Strait beyond the window. Your light PJs are comfortable in the temperature of the room, and loose, and there’s busking music playing from somewhere. Life is good in Istanbul.  
Because he still feels so hot and steamy, Taeyong discards his bathing gown and lays on the bed sheets naked, holding a small hand mirror to reapply his makeup.
At this hour, nobody used the elevator, and the hotel was safe and sound by your standards— but you still had him carry a device to contact you or the boss within a matter of seconds. That one he could discard by now, although he kept his phone within reach.
„Thank you for looking out for me,“ he says.
„Goes without sayin’.“
Lord knows Taeyong has done more strenuous things for you after a certain Agent Y caught malaria in Brazil. All while hunting after a Target. And Taeyong’s far away from being a born sniper, so he has to rely on more complex methods to fend someone off without them opening fire.
„All I know is,“ Taeyong presses a white undereye patch flat against his skin, „I think you figured it out when you brought me to the bedroom and pulled the blinds.“
As expected: He looks good with nothing but a hydrating eye mask on. But nothing like that even remotely surprises you.
„Well-observed. I knew the pilot was the culprit after I looked outside.“
„Hm— Outside? Give me a hint.“
„What does one typically expect to see in Turkey while flying past?“
„Turkish people? Turkish food?“
„Taeyong. Not at that altitude.“
„Turkish… landscapes?“
„We were traveling across a city at that point. Only houses and sights, no mountains and hills.“
„Then, I don’t really know.“
„What do you see when you fly across a Turkish city? A minaret! Literally at least one.“
„Ah, of course.“
„When I looked outside the panorama. Not a single one in sight. We were actually way above Eastern Europe at that point. The Balkans, not Turkey. The pilot was taking us way elsewhere.“
„What?“
„The man who should receive the spy’s intel— Andrei Strago. He’s Romanian. Strago is responsible for one of our agents’ family disappearing. Agent B found out two months ago that Strago actually runs a human trafficking ring for three years now. Down in Walachia, where most of his preferred route crosses inland from the Black Sea. That’s exactly where the pilot wanted to fly us to. We’d be in Romania as we speak.“
„Really now…“
„Yes. Strago was smart enough to pick a foreign spy for the job. An American, for that matter. But the pilot gave himself away knowing the exact caliber of my gun— and not flying like the expert he pretended to be with his bedazzled shit uniform.“
„I think I almost lost my mind in that bathroom.“
Strago really sent the worst pilot in history. At least you knew he was running out of money now.
„He also stuttered right into my face. It made me realize he’d been speaking another language as of recently. I swear this guy slipped up more than Agent P on a stamina test. The glass of water also took so long to arrive since he was busy prepping it somehow.“
„Right. It wasn’t Yeji. She would have been faster to spike my drink. I mean…she handled the food. But, how did he do it then?“
„I’m only guessing here. Maybe he stopped Yeji before she could bring the food trolley to us. He wanted us to suspect her so fucking bad, it’s ridiculous. But the officers who searched the plane after we took the taxi actually found chemicals in his personal bag. Lab texted me, it was chloral hydrate. They also found out that he dripped some ketamine into my sandwich.“
„But you didn’t eat anything of that!“
He almost drops his mirror.
„I’m still standing, so. Obviously not. I only ate some Turkish Delight straight out of the cupboard later when we already caught him.“
„Those were fine? No late effects, damage, nothing?“
„Guaranteed.“
Taeyong looks more than bewildered about the fact that you’re doing your ‚see everything, hear everything‘ job the way you’re supposed to, without a damning mistake. You always tell him, he can take it for granted. He worries regardless. But, you have to admit it, his concern is far more caring than what most people extend to you. Envy, anger, overwork — those kinds of things.
„How are you always prepared to find those things even if you can’t actually see them?“
„Boss taught me. We practice daily. You need to be able to spot what’s irregular. It’s all just chemistry, then. And you know I carry my antidotes.“
„So you’re okay, then,“ Taeyong nods, picking up his mascara again.
„I am. Thank the boss for hiring Hyuna.“
„It was a good team effort from you, seriously.“
And your boss thought Taeyong being ill was the trick. No, it was just Hyuna’s iron fist. Nothing less, nothing more. A strategy was a chance, but it could also weigh you down. Maybe, the best approach was simply adapting fast enough.
„I overlooked the geographic coordinates being set to Romania in the cockpit, and Hyuna did a better job at busting his nuts. But we actually managed the rest. The USB in particular.“
You purposely lower your voice now. Taeyong looked confused but also toned it down a notch.
„The USB?“
„The actual purpose of our mission.“
„Was there a second one?! Do we hunt for Strago and his gang now?“
„Boss gave me a data stick for Agent B to retrieve. Our flight was a messenger mission. All the collected intel about Strago’s business is on said USB. I didn’t tell you about it to minimize anyone finding out.“
„So we did take that data stick to Turkey already?“
Taeyong can hardly continue with his makeup again because his face is like an audible gasp.
„Exactly. The local agents will receive a copy. The trafficking ring can be broken up within two days time if all goes well.“
„That fast?“
„Agent B has done it before, ten times, twelve times. So we leave it to her and the crew we just saw. As for us, we specialize in single-target missions, not gangs. The experts are taking over from here. Rumor has it Ten was already flown in. They’re gonna shut this whole thing down. A crucial hint on the USB was that Strago owned a mansion on a Black Sea beach.“
„We… had this information with us the whole time?“
„It’s true. We could never send something like this through the airwaves. Sometimes, you gotta use antiquated technology. I actually stitched it into my coat. It was a safety measure. The USB was on you the entire time while the pilot thought I was carrying the USB. He thought he could grab hold of it while I was entering the cockpit, that’s why he got so handsy and flailed around.“
„Handsy? On you?! What did he do? Are you alright?“
„Don’t worry. He couldn’t manage.“
„Hyuna needs a serious raise. And, I really should have known. With the coat, you know. I’m stupid,“ he sighs.
„Because you didn’t pay any attention to it, that’s exactly why the pilot never even thought of finding it on you. Our flight route was so convoluted to buy time, though. I bet he would have searched you in your sleep at one point.“
„He attacked me with reckless flying, that was enough.“
Taeyong demonstratively drags a powder puff across his forehead, applying a finishing touch.
„Well, not anymore. So, now, that’s also why Agent B took off your coat, did you notice. She took it from you pretty damn fast.“
This guy is done for, and he didn’t even figure out where the USB was located. Although you were not complaining that your Target was an easier case. Taeyong would have been in serious trouble, and he certainly had his ways with poison in your food, too.
Although the sandwich in and of itself had looked far from appetizing anyways — nothing could beat a proper Taeyong-made bread from home. The snack that had arrived was so horribly below average, you wonder why the pilot thought you’d eat this willingly. Flimsy lettuce, stinking cheese, and an underwhelming condiment squeezed in between. That’s also how you would have described agents P, R and W walking down the hallway past your office.
„Sorry again. I was really too close to just fainting on the spot.“
„That’s why I booked ourselves a train back home. Day after tomorrow, we got nice bedding for two. Room service and everything, and 90% flat landscapes.“
It’s not just your following wink that sends Taeyong into a visible frenzy. He loves to go by train whenever. Lord knows you would have taken the Orient Express a thousand times if it weren’t for the risk of assassination.
„You did!“
„Uh-huh,“ you proceed to lay between his legs, now torso on torso with him. „We’ll have all the time in the world to use up our condoms now.“
His jaw slightly lowers, unable to form words at first.
„W—hat are you planning?“
„To start now, if you got some energy left. Coffee gave you a real boost, did it. We could almost fuck a marathon with the time boss gave us.“
„I think it did,“ Taeyong huffs out, flustered. „I’ve never had coffee this strong.“
„Figures,“ you smile at him. „And— You didn’t just put on your makeup for nothing, you see.“
He does those things pretty much automatically without thinking much about it. Even though it was 11:20 PM. Which must be due to the jetlag. Regardless: It all shouldn’t go to waste. And both of you were still buzzing with energy.
„At least… do I look halfway acceptable again?“
Understatement. You give him the eyebrow.
Taeyong’s visit to the hotel spa had clearly added five years of extra lifespan to his face and body in one smacking go. The silent and shaky little guy from hours ago is now glowingly refreshed as if he had been reborn. The flight was jarring, but a good haircut was the best pick-me-up.
„Much healthier,“ you smile. „You’re always `acceptable´. But I also would have made out with you in that sleeping cabin if you wanted a cuddle. Still better we can cozy up here, though.“
„I probably wouldn’t have gotten it up there anyway.“
Honest. Taeyong avoids eye contact, and he’s close to whispering. You know his body is very susceptible to moods. It doesn’t faze you. Hell, who gets turned on in such a state of dread. Taeyong’s vertigo is too strong.
„How I care if you hadn’t,“ you twirl at his hair, all the nonchalance in the world. „I like your hands and I like your lips. And— These.“
The thighs too, which you demonstrate to him with a little pinch on either side of them. They’re small, that’s why they’re handy — and easy to ride.
„True,“ he exhales, embarrassment in his eyes, but also clarity. Taeyong has slept with you for long enough to know that there are many ways to please you.
„We could do anything. A million ways we could feel good.“
„Yes. Maybe a billion.“
There it is. He’s adorable. Taeyong agrees you should be busy making some love instead of hurrying back to the headquarters. The paperwork can wait.
„You got it.“
„If you want a billion ways. Or a hundred for a start. I mean. If you’d like it…“
„Sounds like a good suggestion,“ you say, acting like a guest flipping through the menu at a restaurant. „I’d like to have everything at once, please. But with extra ice cream.“
CHAPTER 5 - THE BED
You wanted Taeyong to open his mouth and let the saliva pool, cooling on his tongue — as much as he could. You asked him to let the spit run over your labia. All of it, and he had to press his coffee lips between yours so it would reach the spot.
„Use your fingertips to spread it all around.“
So close to you. It’s what you always missed when you were busy and maintaining a protective front. Taeyong had you hot and bothered with his breath alone because it was so immediate. So immediate. He kept on licking, creating a mess. It was too good to be called just that. Taeyong’s mouth gave you a known appetite.
You wanted his dick, and it was erect and full where his robe once covered it up with its material — which gave him a little frottage. Your eyes: Liking what they saw. So sweet and almost pinkish, deep, thoroughly blushed in the middle. The tip, perfectly sculpted. You wanted Taeyong to whine for you because that very sweet spot made his body feel electric, too, now. But you weren’t just there yet. It was all building up.
Taeyong used all five fingers of his right to play with your pussy. You had an achingly bad desire to feel them brush back and forth, tease your clit superficially while it’s already soaked, and move around your labia for fun, not abrasively. Just playfully. He rubbed your best spot with three fingers flat on it, too, giving it a bit more focus. Taeyong is patient when you take your naughty time to lick his wrists and arms like a pervert. He didn’t judge you: He just watched and learned. It takes two perverts.
Going from a soft arousal in sobriety to full-on contact excited you to the bone now. You told him to put on the condom slowly, so you could observe his hands. Between your legs, he could make use of the final checking grip. Taeyong knew how to tease and work up your pussy with the tip of his cock, giving some little sideway nudges to your clit, and across, especially that. He learned that you liked it, so Taeyong hardly missed out on repeating that movement. You couldn’t wait for much longer. Your skin was almost buzzing.
The salacious view of Taeyong’s cock slicking in and out of you was heavenly, and it sounded just like that. Giving a bit of suction when he pulled back every time, and filling you up well when he rocked forward carefully. The penetration made your labia dance around his shaft that drove in slightly deeper and wetter than before, the more you fully relaxed around his slobbery member. Taeyong could never quite settle where he put his hands; your upper arms, or your thighs, or your shoulders. You liked how he switched places, it gave you so many new sensations. He didn’t lie with his billion ways.  
He spit and drooled so much on himself, using his hands and good aim, it was immersing your pussy in clear little bubbles. Whenever he pulled out briefly, he could barely keep up playing with your clit side to side, dipping into it, pressing down on it, using his two long bony fingers. He had to penetrate you again because he was needy. Alternating between outside and inside stimulation made him want to go insane, and cry from the intensity. If his massage had been a 90%, this was one hundred on the scale.
You got off so much on his concentrated facial expression that always broke every time the friction was a few extra active nerve endings more profound than before. Taeyong made your pussy feel so soft and sloppy, he couldn't help but admire it, and really feel the way your legs would wrap around his slender waist. His mouth craved your breasts so bad, and once you asked him to, he was sucking uncontrollably. You were very pleased with his technique, you got a kick out of it.
Because he liked to gobble you up that way, he always opened his jaw wide so his lips could be in full contact with your skin, stretched around your breast rather than just kissing it: Which he also liked to do, though, but with enough spit again. His chaotic kisses were interrupted with moans, stemming from just how much his dick was feeling you accommodate him more loosely, giving space, letting him plunge in more easily. In all the excitement, your heart was about to explode with fast beats.
„I love your pussy,“ he buried his nose in your right breast, and he maintained the gyrating of his hip, the slapping thigh on thigh with you, while swiveling his dangerously heated sticky tongue. „Your pussy lips are amazing. Look how juicy they are. They’re so pretty and stretchy. I love them. I’m so sorry I can't get enough of them.“
„Don’t say sorry, baby,“ you tickle at his neck. He was absolutely griping, but tried not to be too loud — which made it even hotter to watch him melt down from pleasure, face to face. „They’re so greedy and sloppy for you. Just keep fucking them. Come on.“
Over the course of the evening, you switched positions a lot. At least fifteen times, if not more. One time at his home, you rode him until exhaustion, he was so knocked out. Taeyong always felt really meaty, but pleasant, and not all that thick. He penetrated you as deeply as his moans would become, loving the slaps of your ass against his loins when you did doggy. Taeyong could never really take it, so he had to think about vegetables that would sauté in a pan ever so boringly to get his mind out of the gutter.
You weren't afraid of speed and Taeyong being unrestricted in the way he stirred up your pussy. As long as he was consistent: The angle had to be ideal. No moments being stuck of hurting. Your lips, simultaneously, keeping in close contact. Aggressively, passionately kissing. There was nothing shy here. Kissing gave him confidence. Taeyong has a certain way of puckering up that you liked, it was cute but also sexy.
He was addicted to putting his cock into your soft, hot insides, so far in. Taeyong always moaned softly while gouging into you from behind, hands rested on your ass, either upper side. Your walls were clenched up the deeper he dwelled, but also swollen and craving like your clit. What you liked the most in this position, the roundness of his balls pressed over your clit and continued to give it softened skin-to-skin stimulation.
It felt best when he wouldn’t retreat that far, but keep his thrusts minimal, not even pulling back two inches. In his mind, Taeyong pictured an X-Ray of your moving body, showing him how steep and hard and fleshed out his dick was, wedged deep inside your pussy. He liked to imagine he could see your walls part and close depending on how he drove his shaft into you. Not pushing, but rather being accepted and putting his tip as deep as he could.
You wanted more. Taeyong watched you stretch around him eagerly with every new oozing drop of yourself widening your entrance, throbbing with a greed that made Taeyong afraid he’d make you cum too fast, and you thought the same. He had to be careful pounding you, he could only do it one stroke at a time without slamming his thin hips into your ass too recklessly. That feeling already made him want to blow. He imagined how it would be like without the condom. He’d fuck himself dumb in three minutes and scream.
Shooting his sperm deep inside of you, meeting you at the farthest, to make your cervix so creamy with fluid, spoiling it completely, making your insides feel amazing and spongy from a clenching orgasm. That fantasy was almost too much, so he was glad he was wearing rubber. He’d pour right into you otherwise and leave you hanging. No-go. And still, he had to take a little break, whimpering into a pillow and lying down on it. He beckoned to onto his face with a gesture he had done so frequently it became nature, and you took the offer with a little mischievous smile. You loved completely smashing Taeyong’s face.
Your boyfriend’s jaw, felt between and under your thighs, made you obsessed with his outline, the bone and contour. It’s almost as if you could feel him ten times more accurately as with your bare hands. Maybe your pussy just had a thing for his nose. You felt his skinny fingers desperately clinging around your ass, disoriented from all the thrusting that you were picking up. His makeup was nothing but a big smear. You could feel his smudgy black lashes against your ass, and you pitied this little kitty for putting so much effort into painting his face. Shame you were relentless.
The hammam had worked up his blood flow, so this was putting the cherry on the botto— I mean on Tae— well, on top. If you were gonna pound his face like that, you were gonna do it properly, with the right momentum. It was so much fun because all the room was: Bed creaking. Muffled little noises. Wetness. Skin. And that’s where your big appetite from the beginning came in.
Without the condom and a bit of your saliva already, his cock was freshly soaked and perky to actually medium-sized, decently so, pulsing and easy to gobble once you controlled it with your fist. He loved your eyes, so you didn’t sit down on him permanently. For a while, you took him in your mouth from a sideways position, sitting on your feet’s heels right next to him. Lips only, no major tongue yet, with both hands wandering down onto his little hips.
On many days, and that thought came to your mind to turn you on even more (well thanks), Taeyong would treat you going mouth to pussy endlessly with your legs comfortably spread, laying down in perfect deckchair position to take a good look at his tummy, and to observe his magic dick just doing his thing — pleasing and stimulating you smoothly rather than ripping into your pussy to split it from brutal friction, or ramming your throat until you couldn’t breathe or swallow. Rather, he took it slow, using his slightly shorter length and balanced girth to his advantage.
He would roll his hips in large, wide serpentine motions to gently stuff your wet pussy and dripping mouth very deliberately with enough width to make you tingle and enjoy it, and admire its lush shape. You loved how it gave you soft gliding sensations. Taeyong loved how your pussy engorged him, and how your mouth opened up to him so hungry to suck it. You always loved to close your lips to surround and feel him. As in life, Taeyong was also not very risk-loving with sex. He was turned on like mad, but he wouldn’t push or tear. Instead, he knew how to work you up with his hands or granting just the right look at his sexy sweat-covered face. Or both.
But this way, in a 69 position, just focusing on his dick for now, taking him like this made your throat so hot and welcoming. You worked your open teeth and lips down his glossy cock five times, up, down, up. You wanted it all. Back to how you started when he took a break, you could really fuck your face with him properly while Taeyong was drowning. His face ruined, choking on pussy. He tried his best to pucker his lips how you liked it best, and kiss your pussy all over as good as he can. But after a while, he fails miserably because you grind onto his face too unpredictably. If you asked him in this moment whether he had fear of planes, he probably would not care nor know.
„Sorry, busy, I dunno, I’m shy,“ would his reply be. That scenario makes you chuckle.
Taeyong is pathetic in how his face gets destroyed, but he loves it. Your boyfriend surrenders to how you wreck him with your ass, bouncing on him as if you were riding all the cum he had out of his balls and cock. He’s winding and wincing, but he can’t escape, nor does he plan to. Everything’s so mixed up and your pussy is too wet for him not to lick up, trying to gulp it down obediently. What you give him, he swallows. He makes his shoulders move into it, a little upward, to match with you, but he gets pushed back onto the mattress in an instant and has to endure it passively. Which, going by his mewling, he likes.
Whenever you gave him a blowjob, he couldn't stop cumming. Your mouth was getting filled up deliciously with his smooth runny semen that would make deepthroating him even easier. Today was no different. As he keeps pouring it up in your mouth, onto your teeth (you perversely like this the very most), you continue to slobber on his thick dick and squeeze him with your exceedingly puffy lips. Just around the middle of his shaft, where you can feel his amazing circumference the most.
You grind your pussy all over his face to finish him entirely, let your clit trail down his nose until you get goosebumps and want to scream from pleasure. Completely unleashed. Taeyong goes crazy working his nose and soft warm tongue, upwards, straining. You groan around his dick, which makes Taeyong even more desperate, and your pussy more swollen. You’re treating his cock with your teeth and spit, which comes out gooey from all the snot running backwards from your nose, inside. Taeyong is too slutty not to like that. His cock always stimulates your mouth so well, but especially the lips. Talk about spa — it’s like a deep massage. You love the noise they make, and your super wet throat. It wants to choke the cum out of him until he loses his mind and goes blank.
„Mmh, just give me that cum,“ is what you mumble, it’s hard to understand, but Taeyong has heard that phrasing very often, times before. He is always polite to oblige on demand.
Taeyongs two-hand embrace around your waist allows for movement enough to leave him dumbfounded from the downforce. Crushing your ass and pussy against his face makes Taeyong dizzy and even more uncontrolled with his seed-dripping cock. He shoots more and more soft treads into your mouth and fucks the whole length into your throat so you can take a good look at his big plump balls. They smell amazing, like everything about him. You wiggle your nose down into them, to shake them around side to side, and get even the last drop to shoot against the roof of your mouth.
Taeyong’s brain is melting down. It hurts him from overstimulation, but he never really wants this to stop. Unless you tell him to, or you’re cumming on his face. Which you do— and hard, and oozing. Into his lashes, dripping down his nose and nostrils, over his brows, across his cheekbones, his cupid lips, even the veiny neck. Taeyong can’t see anything. He’s killed by the heat and erratic riding-out moves that slowly descend, but he’s in paradise.
This guy is obsessed with your body. He needs it so bad, all the sensations, even if it overwhelms and fucks him up, and he can't think anymore, he loves you so much. That you spit out his semen to coat his dick a last time using your palms, you can hear him groan a final time until he goes dramatically limp. He’s hardly ever pushed himself to an orgasm like this.
„Gonna be a boring train journey,“ you postpone the encroaching fatigue for another few seconds, turn around from your position, and kiss Taeyong on his wet nose with his own cum on your lips. Spreading it out, admiring the masterpiece of his screwed-up makeup, and giving him a little laugh with a grimace you’re pulling.
EPILOGUE
The next morning, you woke up to a coded text from your boss. Taeyong was still fast asleep, barely making any breathing noise because his dozing was so peaceful. You had cleaned his face with a tissue during aftercare, and he was already half gone by the time you finished it up. The evening had turned him to a pile of jello, so his limbs were going all over the place, even hugging a pillow when he no longer registered you lying next to him.
You smiled, sat up, picked up a piece of paper to decipher the message — and the conversation proceeded.
boss: we’re getting ahead in romania
y: yes?
boss: the subject is caught
boss: andrei strago
boss: will report back to you with final details soon
boss: we have a good chance of tracking agent u’s abducted family
boss: they are still alive as per the pilot
y: good job
boss: all thanks to your team strategy
boss: and also
boss: i did find out who took my ammunition
y: do you believe it’s time to fire some people /now/
boss: already done
y: i don’t have to guess who
y: agent w has been stocking up our ammo in his office for fun right
boss: rather guess the new replacements. ten will be taking care of this mess when he returns
y: then the mess is as good as resolved
y: you just gotta know which project to hand to whom ;)
y: and by the way
y: i’d like to recommend our youngsters
y: yeji and hyuna
boss: you’re not the only one who thinks that way
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- final note. thank you for reading this far! enjoyed the rollercoaster ride? 😄👀 reblogs and comments much appreciated as always <3 you can also >>> find this fic on ao3.
© 2017-2022 sugar-petals. all rights reserved. no reposts allowed. all depictions are fictional and for entertainment purposes only.
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charmingyong · 2 years
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[1807]
“I’d like to book for flight departure tonight please,” you said politely as a personal secretary should over the phone to a travel agent. Your boss, aka the CEO, Taeyong asked you to book tickets for a spontaneous vacation to Jeju Island as he surprisingly had a free schedule for the upcoming weekend.
“Sure thing. And I believe you said you’d like two tickets under Mr. Lee Taeyong?” she asked.
“Yes, that’s right.”
“Perfect. I will need the first and last name of the other passenger in order to book the seats for you.”
You know one of the tickets was for your boss, but he hadn’t informed you of his trip buddy. “Could you give me a minute to collect the second name?”
“Of course.”
Standing up from your seat, you headed over to the double doors, knocking on it twice. You heard a faint mumble, allowing you permission in.
Inside, you found Taeyong sitting on his desk, blazer off and resting aside his figure. His crisp white shirt nicely framed his torso while his tie was loosened around the neck, a sign of an approaching end of the long week. While still reviewing papers in his hold and without glancing at you, he asked, “Yes?”
Clearing your throat, you asked, “What’s the name of the other passenger accompanying you?”
Keeping his eyes glued to the papers, he casually muttered. “Y/N L/N.”
Nodding, you thanked him and almost twirled to head out his room until you realized whose name Taeyong had just said. “ME?” your tone raised in surprise and eyes blown out in disbelief.
Taeyong finally lifted his gaze to land on you and smirked. “Care to accompany me on my vacation?”
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nctnews · 2 years
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220702 | NCT 127’s Twitter update
🎉💚Happy Tyong Day💚🎉
Translated by Maria - daily-bubu
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taeyongscoffee · 2 years
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happy birthday my darling ❤🌹
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lwpins · 9 months
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⋆。゚taeyong day! 𖥔 ݁ ˖๋
‎♡ shalala acrylic photocard holder
‎♡ X2 acrylic keychains
‎♡ holo vinyl sticker
‎♡ X2 photocards
‎P.O june 30th - july 31st
worldwide shipping from the uk
‎🌹 individual & sets available
‎🛒 https://lwpins.bigcartel.com/products
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merinaart · 2 years
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🐉 Happy Taeyong Day 🐉
Happy b day to the sweetest, talented baby 💛💛💛
Hope you ll have a great one and celebrate your special day properly! Thank you for your hard work and creativity you put out there!
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limitlesssense · 9 months
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In honour of Taeyong's birthday, I've compiled a new video of sweet and cute moments between Taeyong and his fans!
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taelsungtaro · 2 years
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Happy Tyong Day!
I had time so I drew this
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dearssunshine · 2 years
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220630 9:23 a.m.
birthday yong.
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lovesung127 · 2 years
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HAPPY TAEYONG DAY<3
happy happy birthday to my first nct bias and the man who made me stan nct!! thank you for being the best leader for nct and also for being so caring towards all the members. you are honestly so talented. not only in rap but also in dance and even singing! like bro the high notes you were hitting in your solo moonlight!!! i can't wait for even more bangers you will release. you are such an inspiration to not only me but so many other czennies. happy 27th!! remeber to take care of your health<3
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editsty · 9 months
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Birthday boy 💜
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jaerontaemo · 2 years
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220701 — Taeyong Instagram story
Pic 2: "Happy Tyong" (part of happy birthday)
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hanakotsugumi · 2 years
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nctnews · 2 years
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220701 | Mark’s Instagram Story update with Taeyong
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I prepared something for my little fairyong's birthday 💗 I hope he feel extra special today because he is so LOVED by everyone.
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