#thief and the jelly | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

the-boy-meets-evil · 5 months ago

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34.6037° S, 58.3816° W | jww

(your latest assignment has you jetting off to argentina hoping to finally catch the infamous art thief that's escaped your agency one too many times already. you know what's at stake if you lose your focus. enter the beautiful stranger that has you questioning everything you know.)

pairing: jeon wonwoo x f.reader genre: strangers to lovers, (kinda, v light) enemies to lovers | smut, fluff, angst rating: explicit, minors DNI word count: ~22.8k (idk what happened) warnings: art thief!wonwoo, secret agent!reader, brief mentions of death & bloody past (again, reader is a secret agent), mentions of past violence, mentions of weapons, food, drinking, VERY ambiguous ending smut warnings: multiple smut scenes, multiple positions, unprotected sex (don't do this), slightly rough sex, mild dom!wonwoo?, fingering, oral sex, choking, spanking, multiple orgasms, squirting, light marking, semi-public sex, food play (whipped cream, chocolate), i think that's it

a/n: this is for @svthub's world tour collab (check out the other fics here). i had so much fun writing this even if it got away from me a bit. thanks to @effortandmore for lending me her art brain. thanks to @highvern for constantly listening to me and @multi-kpop-fanfics for fit inspo. and as always, thank you to my bby @wongyuseokie for the banner & divider.

edited to add: i am considering an epilogue if that’s something anyone is interested in

tag list: @wonustars, @minisugakoobies, @crepecakeu, @tinyelfperson, @dokyeomkyeom, @amoryeonjun, @miriamxsworld, @hongrizoon, @gyuminusone, @aaniag, @naajaeminsgf, @straykidswhoo789, @kimseokgen, @beomesbabe, @haolistic, @vanishingboots, @babybae-shisui, @pyeonghongrie-main, @nuttywastelandmentality, @writingbarnes, @tomodachiii, @gyuhao365, @jjin-kun, @sdoulc, @wonwootakemyheart, @divinityyyy, @nightshadeinmoonlight, @imma-queencard, @jelly-n

“We’ll be landing in about 45 minutes, according to the pilot,” a voice says, interrupting your laser-like focus.

You look up from your tablet and blink at him for a second. It takes you a moment or two to register he’s even standing there. Another moment to register what he actually said to you a second ago. In the meantime, you switch the program open on your tablet.

“Oh, thanks,” you say in response.

He sits down in the seat opposite you and fixes you with a smile. “Must be a good book, you’ve barely looked up for the entire flight.”

“Guilty,” you say with a practiced smile.

Chan, you think that’s his name, seems nice enough. A little overeager and too ready to agree to something when his bosses tell him what to do. There’s that real thirst to prove himself. But, at least from what you hear, he’s got a bright future. He’s done well with what he’s been given so far, which are increasingly difficult assignments. You can see why. He’s easy on the eyes and he’s got that soft smile down. The kind of unassuming smile that makes people want to trust him. If he can keep it up, he’ll go far.

“Thanks again for letting me catch a ride,” you say to fill some of the space between you.

Chan only shrugs. “Any friend of Mr. Choi’s is always welcome. Plus, nobody really says no when the boss says something.”

A lesser person would have probably laughed at that. Hearing him referred to as Mr. Choi and the boss is a little comical to you. Not that it isn’t true because he is definitely Chan’s boss. It’s just, well, it’s a little more complicated than that.

“Honestly I don’t really even understand what Cheol does,” you lie and turn on a little bit of the charm. It’s always good to practice on people that are trained to be charming themselves.

“Do you call him that?” Chan wonders.

“Call him what? Cheol?” you ask and Chan nods, eyes a little wide. It catches him just off guard enough. “Yeah, but I’ve known him for years. What do you call him?”

“Sir, usually,” Chan answers too quickly. You can’t fully fight the smile that answer brings to your lips. “Glad to see I entertained you.”

“He’s not nearly as bad as I’m sure he seems at work,” you say like you’re sharing a secret.

The truth is that you’ve been hearing about this new agent that Seungcheol is personally training for over a year now. So, you know that eventually, you’re going to all be laughing at this conversation in hindsight and he’ll also be calling his boss Cheol. For now, though, things are a little bit different.

“He mentioned that you were heading down to do some research?” he asks and you nod.

This part has always been a little tedious to you, the part where you come up with a cover story that you even have to feed to other people within the same organization. It’s been this way for your entire career. You were recruited at 18 years old and went through special training along with obtaining a degree. The Agency had two divisions, but you only ever learned about the second one if you were recruited to work there. It was that second division you joined right away.

Training had been grueling. If it wasn’t some kind of physical endurance training, it was sitting in a windowless room studying history or a foreign language. Or it was combat training with whatever weapon was on deck that day. Or working to blend into any situation. You quickly learned that did not mean not being memorable. At least not in every situation. Sometimes that meant looking at ease in your surroundings even if eyes were on you. Thankfully, the charm seemed to come naturally to you and that was one less thing you had to worry about learning.

The Agency officially works in maintaining international relationships between countries. That can mean a number of different things. Sometimes it involves an agent or team heading out to a location as official representatives. They can help with negotiation, security concerns, smoothing out issues, anything really. Unofficially, it often involves going undercover on a mission. That can involve either division, depending on the sensitivity of the mission. If it’s simpler, then someone like Chan gets sent out to work his way into a situation and influence the outcome so that everything stays calm. In fact, he’s here to charm a wealthy heiress that’s getting a little too close to revealing confidential information on government contracts.

You, on the other hand, are officially here to study Argentinian culture and immerse yourself in local traditions. Chan doesn’t know that you work for The Agency as well. He doesn’t know that Seungcheol is like a boss to you. It’s not his preference. Seungcheol misses the days when he was by your side in the field instead of stuck in the office behind a desk. Unfortunately, several years ago he suffered a severe injury that just made field work impossible for him. It took a lot of convincing, most of which fell on your shoulders as the person closest to him, to get him to transition to his current role. Where you had never set foot in the main offices, he had been there periodically. He was known to people there. And he was so insanely smart that you pointed out he would be bored trying to assimilate into regular life. Why not get to do one of his other favorite things and tell younger agents (or even older ones) what to do? That had been the biggest selling point because he was good at being in charge. It had been a bit of a rocky transition at first, but now it’s smooth sailing.

Unofficially, you’re here tracking one of the most infamous art thieves in the world. This is the kind of thing that has to be handled with the utmost secrecy. Other agencies and your own have tried to track him down and apprehend him only to have him slip into the wind. If you had to hazard a guess, you’d assume that there had been leaks during the previous attempts. You’ve also considered that he’s just really good at making a mark and blending into his surroundings. This is one of the most secretive missions you’ve ever been sent on despite seeming relatively innocuous. How much harm can an art thief really cause, right? Except, The Agency is largely funded by private investors and several of those investors have been victims and had art stolen. Despite that, the only people that know you’re making this attempt now are Seungcheol and the head of covert operations. His counterpart doesn’t know that you’re handling it, or even who you are. Instead, the main division of The Agency has a team headed to Amsterdam thinking that they’re after the notorious thief.

Although it seems like it should be straight forward, this thief has been working in the shadows for years without anyone really knowing what he looks like beyond him being a man. The reports about what he actually looks like vary so greatly that nobody really knows what to believe. You and Seungcheol have spent months trying to put together a profile that seems most realistic and you feel as comfortable as you can. His appearance seems a little elusive, but the information that he’s going to be in Buenos Aires is the best lead you’ve gotten. It comes from someone that you worked with on a previous mission. You had been studying your profiles when Chan came over and quickly exited to a different application.

“I am. I’m working on understanding the history of Argentinian culture through the eyes of Buenos Aires for a project,” you say with all the affection of someone who was actually going to be doing that. “I’m going to spend most of my time just out talking to people, learning their stories, that kind of thing.”

“Do you, uh, speak Spanish?” Chan wonders with clear apprehension.

“I do,” you say with a light laugh. “Be a bit awkward if I didn’t, right?”

“That’s impressive,” he says.

“I speak several languages,” you say nonchalantly and then make a show of catching his eye. “I studied language and culture in university.”

“You’re not what I’d imagine for one of my boss’s friends,” Chan admits. “Especially one close enough to get added to the manifest.”

You shrug. “I’ve known him for a long time.”

“He doesn’t strike me as someone with a lot of time for friendships or someone that you can ever really know,” Chan presses and you laugh.

“Married to the job, right?” you agree. “I’m a low maintenance friend. I spend a lot of time out of town for research, immersed in local culture. We’ve probably got more in common that you’d think.”

“That makes a lot of sense,” he concedes, seeming to easily buy your cover. He stands up. “I’ll let you get back to your reading.”

The rest of the flight goes smoothly and you say your goodbyes to Chan and the others from the flight once you get off the plane. As is the plan, you take your suitcases to a local taxi and head to your hotel, checking in under one of the many fake names you used when on a mission. The room is nice, too, even if it’s nothing all that extravagant. It’s just another part of the cover.

Since it’s been a long day, you figure that you might as well just order room service and settle in for the night. It’ll give you the chance to start getting your body used to the local timezone. Not that your body really has a home timezone anymore with how you’re constantly on the move. But, you still don’t mind the idea of resting for the night.

You’re incredibly thankful to be in Buenos Aires in July since it’s the coolest month. It makes it easier for you to just walk everywhere. Before leaving your room for your first full day in your new city, you double check your messenger bag to make sure everything is in there: camera, multiple lenses, journal, tablet and keyboard, sunglasses, wallet, and all your little bits to make it look like a bag you wear all the time. You smile at the receptionist on your way out, letting her know that you’re going off to explore what the city has to offer. She seems happy to see that you look better rested than after your long travel day. Even if heading out is mostly a cover for your mission, it’s also a little true. This city has been on your bucket list to visit for years and you’re not going to waste what might be your only opportunity to explore. It might even make it more believable as you’re trying to blend into the crowds around you.

After spending several hours wandering around and taking in everything you could, you find yourself at a local cafe in the early afternoon to have a cup of coffee and a light lunch. The whole morning flew by in a rush of colors and culture. It’s so easy to be interested in everything that’s before you because it’s just so vibrant. So full of life. Such a juxtaposition of history, tradition, and new influences. It’s one of the first times you’ve been somewhere and had to remind yourself that you are actually on a mission. You’re not just there to sightsee and fall in love.

There are a lot of tourists in the cafe, which doesn’t really surprise you. Most places in Buenos Aires stay open during the afternoon for tourism, but you know that cafes in smaller towns would close. You figure that most locals probably avoid shops during this time of day as well. It feels lucky when you spot an open table in the corner until another patron moves and you see there’s actually someone sitting in one of the seats. It’s an uncharacteristically awkward moment for you, especially given how confident you are with everything else, that he catches you mid-decision. His eyes meet yours before looking at the coffee in one hand and the plate in the other. When he looks back down at the table, it clicks into place before you can turn around.

“You, uh, can sit…” he starts with deliberate slowness that shouldn’t be throwing you off even more.

You shake your head to clear it and smile. “It’s fine, I don’t just speak Spanish.”

“Oh,” he says with a breath of relief. “Well, you can sit here.”

“I don’t want to intrude,” you say and go to turn around.

“It’s busy. Are you going to just eat standing up?” he asks with a challenging raise of his eyebrow.

“Well,” you start.

“I probably won’t be here much longer anyway,” he offers.

Reluctantly, you move to sit down with him. It’s kind of insane the way he’s thrown you off your game by just existing. Usually, you’re the one that’s disarming strangers with your charm, not the other way around. As soon as you sit down, he looks back at the book he has open in front of him. It gives you a chance to figure out if he’s actually that attractive that it’s thrown you off or if you’re still just jet-lagged.

His glasses slide down a nearly too perfect nose and he pushes them up without missing a beat. His black hair is a little messy and a little long, falling carelessly around his face as he gets lost in whatever book he has open in front of him. His clothes make him look a little too fancy to be sitting in a cafe overrun with tourists like this. Somehow, he makes a cardigan over a dress shirt with nice, pressed slacks work without looking like he’s trying too hard. Everything about him just exudes calm, confident energy. Like the kind of person you would assume comes from old money. Unassuming, yet standing out without even meaning to. It reminds you of some of the landmarks you saw that morning, like rich history perfectly combined with modern needs.

Thankfully, at least some of your training kicks back in and you manage to keep it from being too obvious that you’re one step away from fully checking him out. Your new tablemate seems content to sit in silence, though, so you pick at your food while going through some of the pictures on your camera. Today is about getting the lay of the land as much as anything else. It’s not like you can just find your infamous art thief without knowing where to look.

“I’m sure you got some great shots,” he says, drawing your attention again. When you look up, his eyes are on your camera.

“Oh, yeah, it’s so hard to really capture the feeling of something through a camera, but I definitely try,” you say.

“I saw you at The Obelisk and I thought, I’ve never seen someone so focused in my entire life,” he says, except now he’s looking at you.

“There must have been thousands of people there. How did you pick me out?” you ask with a laugh.

The mystery man shrugs. “Like I said, you were focused. And not in the way a lot of influencers who travel for the perfect picture are. I knew that it was more than that for you.”

“It is,” you agree. “I’m studying the history and the culture down here. Just got in last night.”

“Can I see the picture you landed on?” he ventures.

You hesitate. Your pictures are good, sure, but you’re not actually doing anything that serious when you’re down here. Since it’s supposed to be part of your cover, you should feel confident. After a moment, you hand your camera over to him with your favorite picture in the display window.

“Be kind. My focus is language and history first, not photography,” you toss out. Another layer to the cover. It’s convenient, though. Not that you expected to be talking to someone like him about photography.

“This is amazing,” he says and seems earnest. “Can I look through the rest?”

Again, you pretend to consider. This time it’s for the sake of the persona you’re committing to. It’s not like there’s anything on there from before today since it’s a fresh SD card.

“I promise to be kind,” he presses and you roll your eyes.

“Fine,” you say and he smiles.

It’s hard not to notice the amount of care he uses while handling your camera. Maybe he knows something about photography and realizes it’s an expensive model. Or maybe he’s just gentle with something that clearly means a lot to someone else. It’s also easier to feel like you can appreciate things about him when his attention is somewhere else. Like he won’t notice the way your eyes map his features, noting the furrow in his brows or how smooth his skin is. Or the way his hair seems absolutely perfect without any product in it. None of it seems fair that he should just get to walk around looking like that.

“I’m surprised not to find a picture of myself on here,” he starts and it pulls you from your thoughts. There’s a moment where you wonder if he’s secretly self-centered, until you meet his eyes and see the glint there. “You know, with how you’ve been studying me.”

“I appreciate beauty wherever I see it,” you answer, trying to channel more boldness than you feel.

“Are you saying I’m beautiful?” he questions, entirely too at-ease.

“I don’t think you need confirmation on that,” you scoff and look out the window. “Besides, it wasn’t me that noticed you earlier.”

“A shame for me,” he muses. “I appreciate beautiful things as well.”

He hands your camera back with his eyes locked on you. It makes your skin feel a little flushed and you hate it. Hate that you’re always able to keep your cool in any situation and still so completely disarmed by this man. Hate that it’s him that breaks the moment, too, when he looks down at the expensive watch on his wrist with a sigh.

“Late for something?” you venture.

“Something like that,” he agrees and puts his book away in a bag you hadn’t noticed. “I’m glad you sat down though.”

“Me too,” you admit a little too quickly as he’s standing up.

“Enjoy your afternoon, beautiful stranger,” he says and you twist around.

“Wait, I didn’t get your name,” you call and he stops by the door. The smile he throws your way sends a tingle down your spine.

“I hope we’ll run into each other again, then,” he says.

And just like that, he’s gone. Slips into the crowd like he wasn’t even there in the first place. It makes you wonder, just for a second, if the entire exchange actually happened. Until you look back at the table and see the cup of coffee he had been drinking. Beside it, you notice a small piece of paper advertising a new installation at one of the local art museums. Not entirely out of the question, you think, for someone visiting this city and also interested in seeing your camera.

It’s then that you remind yourself why you’re actually here. You shake your head to clear it of any thoughts of the stranger, knowing you can’t make any effort to run into him again. The mission is the only thing that matters. Getting close to someone that could distract you in that way is not part of the plan. So, you can appreciate the banter and get back on track.

The next few days pass relatively uneventfully. You continue to explore the city while always keeping your eyes and ears open for any indication of the art thief. It’s a little frustrating to not have much to go on, but you’re also one of the most patient agents and you know it’ll pay off eventually. Seungcheol keeps in regular contact, sending along each new nugget of information he’s able to find. Even if they’re seemingly insignificant, you file them all away, appreciating how hard you know he’s working given how few people know about the mission. He has to pull the relevant pieces to send to you without tipping off the team in Amsterdam.

You’re also splitting your days. Making sure to get out to experience the local culture to maintain your cover, while spending just as much time locked away in your room so that you can do your own research. Everything points to him already being in the city as well. It also seems like this next heist might be two-fold for him. It appears that he’s got a client that wants a specific piece of art and that he’s also going to steal some pieces for himself to sell at later dates. It’s a bit unusual, from what you’ve been able to tell. He usually likes to keep each job simple to reduce the likelihood of getting caught. Then again, he’s been active for years and doing just fine.

Today you decide to go to check out a museum that you’ve been putting off. It’s silly, but you didn’t want to show up there the day after that cafe since it seemed a little convenient to leave behind. You have to familiarize yourself with all the museums in the city, though, and it seems like this one could be your thief’s target. It has just the right amount of traffic. Just the right combination of popular pieces with lesser known artists.

Once you’re there, you immediately move away from the popular sections. That’s not the kind of art you’re after because it’s not the kind of art the thief ever steals. It’s too recognizable. Too hard to move. Just too risky. Once you’re in a quieter part of the museum, you fight off any feelings of being a fraud. Art has never really been your strong suit. If it weren’t for this mission being so sensitive, you definitely would not be the first agent anyone would choose. But, it is sensitive and so you have to rely on your training to carry you through any conversations that might pop up. You have to rely on the hours spent pouring over lectures about the different styles and influences, the different periods, different techniques. Hopefully your talent at rote memorization will serve you well.

“It’s a shame they keep one of the best artists tucked away in a corner like this,” a voice says from your side, pulling you from your thoughts.

You answer without even thinking much about the voice or even turning to see the person who appeared next to you nearly soundlessly. “Makes it easier to appreciate in peace, though.”

“You like surrealism, then?” he asks and it’s only then that you notice something familiar about the voice or the manner of speaking. Or the fact that he’s not speaking to you in Spanish.

Before you even turn to your side, you know who you’re going to find. He’s looking just as put together and at-ease as he did several days ago in the cafe. His hands rest in his pockets, but his eyes on you are sharp. There’s something a little hard to read about him, you think.

The smile you give him is practiced, designed to seem genuine. “I like Leonor Fini.”

“You’ve got good taste,” he says and turns back to the piece.

“I do like surrealism,” you carry on, turning back to the piece yourself as well, “but, with her work, I really appreciate the way she used female subjects through a female lens. Too many artists…”

You trail off, pretending you’re unsure if you should continue. He falls into the setup easily. “Men could only show female subjects through their own eyes, but women look different through the eyes of other women.”

“Exactly,” you say and smile at him before turning back to the painting again. “There’s something so captivating about the work she did.”

“I agree. That’s why this is my favorite piece here and in my favorite section of works,” he says confidently.

“You already have a favorite?” you joke.

“Well, I’ve been here every day for the past several days,” he shares.

This makes you turn to him fully. “Because you love this section and this work so much?”

This mysterious man actually looks down like he’s embarrassed to admit whatever he’s about to tell you. Like he’s gotten shy for a moment. “I do, but I was actually hoping to run into you.”

That catches you a bit off guard and it takes your brain a minute to remember, once again, you’re here on a mission. “It would have been easier to run into me if you just asked for my number.”

“Kind of ruins this whole mysterious thing I have going on, though,” he shrugs.

You roll your eyes and extend your hand, giving him your fake name for the mission. His eyes sparkle for a second before he takes your hand.

“Wonwoo,” he answers.

“Nice to finally get your name,” you tease.

“I figured you’d come check out the museum when I left the card there at the cafe,” Wonwoo says.

“I knew that was on purpose,” you mumble.

“Yet you didn’t come until today,” he observes.

“I wasn’t trying to make it easy on you,” you throw out quickly.

“Okay, time to switch tactics, then,” he says. “Can I take you to dinner tonight?”

“I’m not sure, can you?” you ask.

“Please let me take you to dinner,” he says.

It’s a bad idea and you know it. Everything about him screams distraction. This isn’t what you’re in Buenos Aires to do. Yet, there’s something about him that has you curious. There’s also the fact that this museum seems to be the most likely target for the art thief and this man admitted he’s been here every day. A small part of your brain is sending up alarm signals to keep an eye on him. He doesn’t seem like a secret art thief, but hasn’t your training taught you how to hide in plain sight? It’s entirely possible he’s doing the same.

Your brain goes into overdrive as it often does on missions. There are a million little details in the pages of your profile on the art thief. They come flooding back to you. The profile so thoughtfully pieced together by The Agency says he’s probably unassuming. The kind of man that fits into any situation in the same way as you do, like he’s not trying to fit in and it means he doesn’t stand out as not belonging. The profile suggests that he’s confident. That he would appear calm. Most importantly, he’s the kind of person that would absolutely look at home in the midst of art. So, whether it’s a good idea or not, you know you’re going to say yes. He must see the answer in your eyes before you voice it because he smirks.

“What time?”

Wonwoo offers to pick you up at your hotel, but you insist that you’ll meet him at the restaurant. It’s safer that way, after all, being a woman traveling alone. At least that’s what you tell him. Not that anything about Wonwoo seems that threatening and you’re better equipped to handle yourself than most. You just don’t need him anywhere near your room even with everything put away. After going back to get ready, you made time to pour over the information you have. The more you consider it, the more it seems plausible that he could be exactly who you’re looking for. There’s only one issue: he asked you out. Everything you have suggests that he made agents in the past and slipped into the wind. You’re not cocky enough to think you’re too good to fall victim to the same fate. You keep your update to Seungcheol vague in case the lead doesn’t pan out.

Surprisingly, Wonwoo picks a nice place off the beaten path for dinner. It’s not overrun with tourists and it’s not too expensive. Like him, it’s unassuming but quietly impressive. You try not to let your heart skip a beat when you see him in a simple white dress shirt and black dress pants. He stands to pull your seat out for you and then settles back into his seat across from you. This is for the sake of the mission. Either he’s the person you’re looking for or you’ll have enjoyed a free and tasty meal. Nothing more to it.

His Spanish, it turns out, isn’t that great and so you help him through ordering since it’s definitely a place more for the locals. Or maybe it’s just an excuse to get your help. You’re not really sure you mind either way. He makes suggestions about which wines he prefers, but ultimately lets you pick, insisting that he will take care of whatever you land on. Once you get through ordering and all the small talk, it gives you a chance to really get to know him.

“Have you been here before?” you ask.

“This restaurant or this city?” he asks.

“Either,” you shrug.

“No to both,” he answers. “Clearly, my Spanish is a bit rusty. I’m so lucky that I found someone who’s so fluent.”

“I’m not sure I believe you can’t speak the language,” you muse.

“I can speak enough Spanish to get by, but it’s not that good,” he assures you.

“Interesting place to visit, then,” you observe.

“I’d miss out on a lot of beauty if I only went where I spoke the language fluently,” he retorts and you smile genuinely at that. He’s right.

“Like the art in the museum?” you suggest.

“Or a charming stranger,” he counters. You’re impressed. “I do like the art as well, though.”

“What other beautiful places have you visited?” you ask.

“Oh, I hardly think it’s that interesting,” he dismisses.

“Humor me,” you say.

There’s a moment where he’s careful in listing off places. Like he’s weighing something that you can’t really place. He ends up listing some places that catch your attention. Each of them has some wonderful art museums and it piques your curiosity. You try to look just politely interested, commenting on how he’s lucky to be able to travel as extensively as he seems to. He plays it off with a vague comment about being fortunate with help from his family. It’s the kind of thing that you know passes on a first date. It’s not appropriate to mention money on a first date. So, that would be fine, if it didn’t also make you curious about who this man really was. After all, your art thief being well connected through family would definitely make sense.

Throughout the rest of the dinner, you try to enjoy it. Not that it’s hard to do. Wonwoo is actually a lot of fun to be around. The conversation flows easily and you’re able to connect on a lot of shared interests. At least, interests that you pretend to have for the sake of this mission. But, it feels like he might also be pretending on some of his interests. He’s just a little too calm and put together. A little too quick with his answers. A little too rehearsed with his comments. Maybe you wouldn’t think twice if you weren’t doing the same.

By the time you finish the main course, you’re pretty sure that you managed to stumble into a date with the exact person that you’re here looking for based on his stories. It may have been a guess before. It feels nearly for sure now. He mentions how you have to visit Japan when the cherry blossoms are blooming, which sounds stunning. He mentions Oktoberfest in Munich and how he barely remembers anything from that trip. Then there's the ice festival in China, Nordlysfestivalen in Norway, and a few other locations that sound beautiful. They also have one thing in common. Each place is also on your list for stolen art around the time of the events.

Once you finish dessert, you’re making a decision that you know you should really clear with someone else before making. Sure, you’re pretty sure that Wonwoo is the art thief. And yes, it’s true that keeping an eye on him is in your best interest. One way to do that is to continue with the date. Yet, you’re not stopping to check in with Seungcheol. You’re not analyzing the pros and cons of doing this. After giving Seungcheol a vague update about a lead and promising you’ll have more information later on, he should be the first person you call. He’s not swept up in the atmosphere of a foreign city with a gorgeous stranger. No, you don’t do any of that. You’re just agreeing to go back to his room with him without a second thought. He’s painfully hot and you’re incredibly attracted to him, which is wildly unprofessional. But, you’re not sure you care. At least for the night. You can figure it all out later.

Wonwoo is quietly confident without being cocky. His gaze is so penetrating that it feels like he’s undressing you without it being slimy. He can hold a conversation about seemingly anything, but he’s also just as interested in what you have to say. In fact, you have his attention the whole night, regardless of anything else going on. It’s a little overwhelming to have someone so focused on you. But, when it feels a little overwhelming, he makes a perfectly timed, slightly sarcastic joke that makes you laugh harder than you should. The smile you wear all throughout the date is genuine. You’re actually enjoying yourself so much that you’re not sure you want it to end. Life has never felt so simultaneously complicated and easy.

Wonwoo’s lips are hot on yours as he cages you against the door of his hotel room. That intensity you saw all dinner reappears and you feel like you might burn under his touch. He’s so in control. You’re still not entirely sure how you wound up here, but you’re not really trying to think too hard about it. The fact that he’s almost definitely the art thief becomes an issue for future-you the second he kisses you like it’s your last day on Earth. It’s not like he knows you’re tracking his movements and it isn’t exactly a bad thing to keep a closer eye on him. Nor is it the first time you’ve done something like this. It is the first time you’ve done it without thought, though, and genuinely been interested in the man you let seduce you.

He has his body pressed against yours with his arms on either side of you so there really is nowhere to go. It’s kind of hot and you’re not even pretending to be turned on. A definite bonus. Your hands quickly undo his belt so that you can pull the edges of his shirt out. The moment your hands make contact with his skin, he pulls away and hisses. They’re likely cold, not that you care. It gives you the chance to catch his lower lip between your teeth. You watch his eyes darken with lust as you run your hands up his back, scratching down lightly.

“Just who do you think is in control here, baby?” His voice is so low in your ear that it makes you swallow hard. Everything about the endearment sounds sarcastic and it shouldn’t work, but you’re only human. Then he nips at your earlobe and you actually moan.

“What are you going to do about it?” you challenge. It feels like a lot of heat between you. If your head were clearer, you might consider that it feels like two people who know they shouldn’t be fucking. Almost like he’s punishing you a little, which he might want to, given why you’re here.

“That’s a dangerous question,” he warns you.

“Afraid I can’t handle it?” you ask and watch the way it nearly breaks his composure. You press forward into him, pulling him down so his ear is by your mouth now. Barely raise your voice above a whisper. “I’m not that fragile. I can handle a little pain.”

That seems to set him off. You’re worried for a second when he pulls away, but that disappears as you watch his nimble fingers rapidly undoing the buttons on his shirt. He casts it aside and looks back at you.

“I want you stripped naked and on the bed,” he commands.

You’re not typically in the habit of taking commands but something about him makes you want to listen. Even if you want to challenge him a little. He turns his back and you do strip down. Mostly. You climb onto the bed wearing only your panties, legs spread open and waiting for him. When he turns around, you miss the flare of his nostrils at your defiance looking at his muscles. For someone so unassuming, he was certainly in good shape.

“Is this your idea of naked?” he questions.

It’s funny, since he’s still got his boxer briefs on, though they leave little to the imagination. You can already see that he’s getting hard from the lead up.

“I thought I’d leave that honor for you,” you say, injecting as much innocence as you can muster into every word.

Wonwoo looks at you for another long second before climbing onto the bed and getting between your legs. He pushes them further open and you bite down on your lip.

“You don’t get to muffle those moans from me, sweetheart,” he teases, running a hand up the inside of your thigh.

“Or what?” you challenge again.

He raises an eyebrow at you and pulls his hand away from your thigh. You’re about to whine when he brings it back in a sharp slap.

“Shit,” you hiss.

“You liked that, didn’t you?” he asks. You nod with big eyes. “Use your words.”

“Fuck, yes, I liked it,” you rush out the second his finger traces a light line up your clothed cunt.

“I can tell,” he snarks. “Just tell me if it’s too much.”

“It won’t be,” you insist. He pulls his hand away and looks at you surprisingly soft for a second.

“Tell me if it is,” he repeats.

“I will,” you promise.

“Good,” he says and hooks his fingers inside the band of your panties, pulling them down your legs and casting them aside in one motion. “That’s better.”

In another surprise, Wonwoo doesn’t dive right into your cunt the way you expect him to given how frenzied everything has been so far. Instead, he trails kisses from your knee up your inner thigh. Pausing occasionally to nip into the skin before running his tongue over the mark to soothe it. You’re writhing on the bed by the time his breath ghosts across your cunt. The chuckle is low and deep as you squirm when he moves to your other thigh. You’re going to die before he even touches you.

“Jesus fuck, Wonwoo, if you don’t start eating me out…” you start, a hand winding into his hair.

He pops up and glares at you. “You’ll what? Did you already forget who’s in charge?”

“I’ll…” you start, before cutting off with a sharp, “FUCK!”

He’s still got his eyes on you when his thumb runs quickly through your folds to press against your clit. There’s barely any movement but it anchors you in place. “That’s what I thought.”

His kisses up your other thigh are much sloppier with a thumb still in place. It only makes you squirm more, searching for some kind of relief. When he finally gets to your lips, you expect he’s going to tease you again. You’re wrong. Again. His tongue dives into your pussy while his other hand keeps you spread open. This man knows what he’s doing and it’s immediately more than you’re expecting. You can’t stop your legs from snapping closed to box him in. That is, until he pulls his hands off you to spread your legs wide again, giving him the best access to you. It��s clear that he’s in charge and he wants you to know it.

It’s everything you can do not to thrash around, but Wonwoo seems to be ready to help there. He’s got a hand on your stomach anchoring you down to the bed. You’re not even sure how he’s got enough hands to move them along your body the way he seems to. Without warning, he moves his mouth up to pay attention to your clit. And he doesn’t give you a break, sliding two fingers into you and immediately scissoring them open. He sets a brutal pace, curling his fingers to hit you where he seems to know you need him on some of the passes.

“Fuck, Wonwoo, oh my god, fuck,” you scream out.

“You gonna come for me, baby?” he sneers at you from between your legs.

“Yes, fuck,” you moan. “Your fingers, oh my god.”

“You’re so fucking tight,” he groans.

In the next moment, you’re coming so hard you squirt over those amazing fingers of his. Your vision whites out around the edges and your toes are curling. It’s all you can do to catch your breath as Wonwoo’s fingers pump through the high.

“I don’t remember the last time I came that hard,” you admit.

“We’re not done yet,” he shares and the tone of his voice has you nearly clenching your legs together. “Turn over. Get on your hands and knees.”

“So bossy,” you say with a roll of your eyes. You turn over anyway, though, and put your ass in the air.

“This is a really good fucking view,” he says. You feel the bed dip when he gets back in place after removing his boxers.

Wonwoo has one hand on your hip and the other is running up your back to press you down further. To help you get that perfect arch of your back. You wiggle your ass at him and are rewarded with a stinging smack. Your moan is muffled by the pillow, so you turn your head to the side. Already know he wants to hear you. When he smacks your other ass check, you nearly scream out.

“That’s it, I want to hear you,” he encourages.

“Please, Wonwoo, just fuck me already,” you beg.

“One orgasm wasn’t enough?” he asks and you can hear the cockiness in his voice. Bringing a ringing smack down on your ass again. You scream out at the sting.

“No, I want you to split me open,” you whine. In any other situation you might be embarrassed by the admission, but not now. Not with him. Not when it’s so clearly turning him on.

“Greedy little thing,” he comments. His fingers press into your cunt again and you nearly yelp.

There’s no time to adjust when Wonwoo removes his fingers and immediately lines himself up at your entrance. With one snap of his hips, he’s fully inside you and you’re hissing. He’s bigger than you were guessing, even with the outline in his boxers. And he doesn’t give you a break as he starts fucking you hard. All you can hear is the sound of his skin slapping against yours and the mingled moans from both of you. You’re sensitive from both the pace and the earlier orgasm. Your legs feel like they would collapse under you if they could.

As if the pace isn’t enough, Wonwoo snakes an arm around you to reach for your clit, rubbing circles into it at the same pace as his thrusts. You can tell he’s nowhere near close, but you’re about to lose control again and you’re not sure how to stop it.

“Fuck, Wonwoo, slower, I’m going to - fuck!” you whine out.

“You gonna come again? So soon, baby?” he taunts.

“I can’t - fuck, please,” you beg. “I’m so close.”

“I want you to make a mess of my dick the same way you made a mess of my fingers,” Wonwoo directs.

“But you haven’t…” you start and Wonwoo removes his hand from your clit. You cry out at the loss until his other hand grabs your hair to yank you back against his chest. When it’s clear you’re not going to move, his hand moves from your hair to your throat.

“I want you to come for me. Right now. Show me how good I feel inside that tight pussy,” he directs.

It’s one of the most surprising reactions, the way your body immediately responds to him. He’s got you coming just as hard as the first time and he doesn’t give you a chance to second guess any of it. As the shocks rip through your body, you notice that Wonwoo does slow down his thrusts. Doesn’t pull out of you, though. You collapse forward and arch your back again so it’s easier to meet Wonwoo’s continued pace.

“You’re so good at listening,” he praises.

“Not usually,” you mumble into the pillow through the haze.

“I must be special,” he says as he lazily fucks into you.

“Jesus Wonwoo, you can fuck me. I know you haven’t finished yet,” you grumble.

“In a rush to go somewhere?” he teases.

“No, but it must be…well, I don’t know. Hard for you,” you mumble into the sheets.

“I’ve got excellent control,” Wonwoo says, all confidence. “I’m not in a rush to end this.”

Despite your instance, he continues to lazily snap his hips into you. It’s so slow, way too slow. He reaches down to pull you up against his chest again, still keeping the pace. His hands are on your breasts, squeezing them to anchor you to him. He rolls one of your nipples roughly between his fingers to see what he gets as a reaction. Your moan seems to spur him on further. Each time pain shoots through some part of your body, it only seems to turn you on more. It’s easy to forget why you agreed to this in the first place.

For all the demands, Wonwoo is actually very attentive as well. He peppers kisses from behind your ear all the way down your shoulder and back, paying special attention to the areas that seem to get the best response from you. He’s also careful with where he nips you, never biting hard enough to leave a mark somewhere that couldn’t be easily hidden. The entire experience has been so all-consuming that there isn’t space for any other thoughts in your head. It’s just him and this hotel room that’s entirely too fancy.

He must feel that you’re starting to get worked up because he pushes you back down into the bed. His pace finally picks up again, which is good because you’re sprinting towards being too sore to actually enjoy it anymore. The pace gets much faster again, not nearly as rhythmic as before. His fingers dig into your hips as he thrusts. It’s the first time it actually feels like he’s losing control.

“Oh my god,” you cry out. “I’m gonna come again. Oh my god!”

“Me too,” he groans through a stuttered breath. “Fuck, where can I come?”

“I don’t care,” you cry out. You’re about to have your third orgasm. “On my back, on my ass, I don’t fucking care, just come with me.”

You press a finger to your clit to try and help you over that last bit to tumble over the edge so that Wonwoo can chase his own relief. The second your body starts shaking, you feel him pull out. He must pump his cock a few times because there’s a slight delay before you feel something hit your back. You feel a little proud with how much cum you feel on your skin, like maybe he was a little more affected by you than he wanted to let on.

As soon as Wonwoo lays down next to you on the bed, you also collapse onto your side. The bed is soft, but your knees are still a little sore from spending so much time on them. Wonwoo immediately pulls you into him so that he can kiss you breathless. His hand is behind your head, keeping you from pulling away. The chemistry between the two of you is intense. Not something you were prepared for. It’s clear that if one of you doesn’t stop, then you’ll be fucking him again. And your body needs a break.

“I should get cleaned up,” you say when you pull back, more than slightly breathless.

“Let me just get cleaned up a little and then you can take a shower,” he says.

He presses a kiss to your temple and then gets up off the bed. There’s no point in pretending you aren’t watching him as he walks to the bathroom. He’s all lean lines and unexpected muscles. Nobody should be allowed to look the way he does, to look so good that Greek gods would be jealous. And yet here he is.

A few minutes later, he emerges from the bathroom and arches an eyebrow at you. There’s a towel slung low around his hips in a way that should be a sin. “You’re going to make me think that you want more.”

“I don’t even know if I’m going to be able to stand,” you joke as an answer.

It surprises you a little when he comes over to the bed and helps you up. That is, until you see the way his eyes take you in. There’s nothing soft there, only predatory. Like you’re a meal he wants to return to. Your brain still feels a little slow to catch up, but registers something like he’s analyzing you. Still, he helps you get to the bathroom, points out the toiletries, and then disappears back into the room.

By the time you’re clean and wrapped in the softest bathrobe you’ve ever worn, Wonwoo is sitting at the table wearing shorts and his glasses with nothing else. He’s scrolling absently through his phone and picking at some snacks that hadn’t been there when you had gone to shower. You didn’t think you’d been in there long, so it’s surprising he was able to get something up so quickly. When he notices you’re out of the bathroom, he indicates the food.

“I ordered us some snacks and they were happy to get them up here quickly,” he says.

You take a seat across from him a little apprehensively. This is the part that you hadn’t really considered. How do you excuse yourself from the situation in a way that ensures you’ll see him again? It’s not that you want to have a repeat, though there’s part of your brain that is not opposed like you should be. It’s just…well with the room and the toiletries and the fast room service, you’re sure that this is the man you’re looking for. Which, admittedly, might make things a little complicated. But, you do have a job to do.

“I guess I am hungry,” you admit and reach for something.

“Glad you’re not going to make me eat alone,” he muses.

“You already paid for dinner and drinks, I wasn’t expecting more treats,” you admit.

“Seems fitting after the mindblowing sex,” he says and watches you, a clear glint to his eyes. “I can’t get over how insanely hot it was to watch you squirt for me.”

Your cheeks redden without your permission. He’s so free with admitting it even with the moment having passed. Maybe he’s more trouble than you realized.

“Seems like I wasn’t the only one to enjoy myself if my back is any indication,” you toss out.

“I really enjoyed the way you told me I could come on your back,” he shares.

“And my ass,” you remind him.

“I got that too,” he reminds you. “And what a nice ass it is.”

“Careful or I’ll ask you to blow my back out again,” you say, voice slightly betraying that you’re affected by his very presence.

“That makes me think you were going to head out and never see me again,” Wonwoo ventures.

“I haven’t decided yet,” you say, trying to be coy.

Wonwoo fixes you with a stare that you can’t quite decipher. It nearly makes you squirm under the intensity. Is he just like that? The kind of person that does everything with that burning look in his eyes.

“Let me ask you something, Agent,” he begins and your mouth runs dry. You do everything you can not to let him know that you’re a second away from losing it. “Do you fuck all your targets? Or am I special?”

The way he smirks at you lets you know that he knows he’s onto something. Knows exactly who you are. Or maybe who you work for, at least. He’s made you and you’re not entirely sure you’re safe anymore. You’re also not entirely sure what the best move is. Probably take half a second too long to decide if his face is any indication.

“Agent? Target?” you laugh out. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”

“Don’t you?” he presses. “Really, we shouldn’t be lying to each other so early in the relationship.”

“I’m here doing…” you start.

“Research, yes. That’s what you said. And you almost had me when it took so long to run into you again. Your Spanish is flawless. It doesn’t sound like someone that learned at some secret agency. You’re much better at languages than any of the other agents that have come after me. And waiting so long to meet me again, genius. It really had me second guessing who you were,” he says. “But then, you made a mistake. Do you know what it was?”

“Going on a date with someone that’s clearly a little delusional?” you ventured. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, I think you do,” he says, confident. “I’ll tell you where you fucked up. It was dinner tonight. No, not something you said or did because you were shockingly smooth with it. It’s that you agreed to it at all. I suggested a place no researcher would ever go to. Because it used to be the site of a religious monument, but it fell into disrepair. A local crime family took it over. Only locals bother going there, but no researcher ever would.”

Your heart sinks. Through all your research and all your planning, you knew that you would never be able to get everything. There just wasn’t the time. So, you had to hope that the person you were chasing wouldn’t notice any small missteps. Or would write them off with your cover story. What you had not planned for was this. In all your careful consideration, you had not planned to go on a date with the art thief himself. He had you and he knew it. It’s hard to see the right path out of this.

It had been a gamble to get close to him the way you had. A gamble that you questioned taking and took anyway. A gamble you took without clearing it with Seungcheol. Usually, getting close to a target this way, you talk to him to make sure that he thinks it’s a good idea too. Make sure that this kind of move will fit the profile for the person that you’re chasing. This time, you’re flying blind. You had gotten a little ahead of yourself. A little sloppy. This isn’t the type of work you’re known for. It’s not the reason that you were sent down to Buenos Aires to chase him on a secret mission.

“One mistake,” you sigh with a shake of your head.

“Yeah, just the one,” he agrees.

“So why did you invite me back here?” you ask.

Wonwoo shrugs. “I’m curious about you.”

“Curious? You risked inviting me back to your actual hotel room over curiosity?” you ask, looking around.

“Who’s to say this is actually my room?” he says with another casual shrug. You clock it on his face as soon as he says it.

“No, it is your actual room. The comfort, the speed of the room service, the way things are laid out. It’s not staged. This is just where you’re staying,” you observe. That makes him smile in a way you’re not expecting.

“Good eye,” he agrees. “Now for my question. Do you fuck all your targets?”

“No,” you say shortly.

“Why even agree to go on a date with me, then?” he presses.

You sigh and sit further back into your chair. Take a piece of fruit from the table to buy yourself some time. “I don’t know. It wasn’t a good decision, obviously. I wasn’t even sure you were my target. There was just…something about you.”

“So you’ve never fucked a target before? I’m special?” he asks with a smirk.

“I didn’t say that,” you respond. “I just don’t usually fuck a target without clearing it first.”

“Who knows you’re here with me?” he asks.

“Nobody,” you answer. It’s too honest.

You’re not sure if you should have admitted that and even less sure if he’ll believe you. It is the truth, though. Nobody in the world knows where you are right now. It’s kind of a crossroads for you because Wonwoo isn’t dangerous. He’s never been violent, as far as your information shows. Despite being physically separated from your bag, you’re not exactly unarmed. And yes, he does look like he’s in shape, but you’re still confident that you can take him if it comes to that. Once again, your mind is running through a million calculations a second as you realize you definitely should have talked to Seungcheol.

“I’m trying to figure you out,” he admits.

“How’s that going?” you ask sarcastically.

“Not as well as it would normally,” he says. It’s something else that’s honest between the two of you. More honest than you’re expecting. “Most people are too easy to figure out. It’s boring. Nothing about you makes sense to me.”

“And what about me is so difficult for you to figure out?” you ask, still lacing your words with sarcasm.

“You know, despite me figuring out that you’re after me, you’re actually the best agent that they’ve ever sent. You fit into your role seamlessly. You’re just the right amount of charming. You blend into your surroundings because you don’t try to do anything to dull yourself. Against my better judgment, I am impressed. And yet, you still decided to come on the date. You’re clearly the best they have and you’re still here,” he says, gaze soft but analytical on you.

“I’m going to keep my mouth shut,” you say carefully.

“Why?” he asks.

“You disarm me,” you admit. “I know so much about you and yet, here I am. Unwilling to leave even though you know what I’m here to do.”

“Do you still want to turn me in?” he asks.

“Are you going to disappear into the wind the second I walk out that door?” you counter.

He regards you for a moment. A moment too long, really. It makes you squirm in your seat. This isn’t going at all how you would have imagined. “No.”

“Why?” you ask.

“Because I’m waiting to see how this whole thing plays out. You haven’t said that you want to turn me in. I can see you’re conflicted about it. So, I’m going to see how this plays out,” he answers. He holds up a hand when you open your mouth. Seems to predict you’re going to ask why again. “Because…okay, look. I know this is really weird. I know you’re here to try and find me. But, you’re actually interesting and that sex was fucking good. So, I don’t know, call me cocky. I’m not ready to let you walk away just yet.”

“If I can walk at all,” you grumble.

“You were walking just fine from the bathroom. Maybe I need to really make sure you can’t walk,” he muses.

The eye contact is too much and you turn your head away. You’re positive he’s onto you, especially when you carefully cross your legs. It’s just that he’s right, isn’t he? You can sit here and pretend that you only slept with him to keep him close while you tried to figure him out. Can say that it was all just part of the job and you didn’t enjoy it. Can say that you wanted to take a different approach since nobody else has been able to catch him.

That’s also very clearly a lie.

Seungcheol likes to know what his agents are up to, particularly when it comes to agents like you that deal with secret missions. Since you started as friends before he had to retire to his desk, he’s also very protective of you. He hates it when you suggest using your charm on a target like this. So, no, this isn’t just another target. This is something else entirely. You have to admit that you actually enjoyed it. That you would like to do it again. That you actually don’t even want to leave his room because you’re not convinced you’ll ever see him again. Which is really stupid, isn’t it? You should not care if you never see him again. Unless it means that you failed your mission. That’s not why you’re worrying about never seeing him again, though.

Just as you’re about to open your mouth and say something else, your phone chirps from your bag. It’s a sign. You know it is. The sound is tied to Seungcheol. Which means he’s looking for a check-in. Which means you’re late, something that never happens with you. You’re standing up to get your phone before even realizing it. Wonwoo’s eyes track your movements.

Cheol: hope you’re enjoying your trip! Send pictures when you can

It’s code. Sent through a normal message so that it doesn’t look suspicious. And so that it gives you the chance to ignore it if you’re not in a place where you can answer him. You don’t even hear Wonwoo approach as you’re mentally calculating how to respond to this.

“Is that code?” he asks and you nearly jump out of your skin at the sound of his low voice by your ear. God, nobody should have a voice like his.

“It’s my handler, I guess you could say,” you answer.

“Are you going to call him?” he asks.

“He’ll worry if I don’t,” you say and realize it’s true.

Wonwoo steps around you to grab his own phone and then returns to his position at the table. “I’ll be quiet if you want to call.”

There’s something kind of hot about how he says it. Like he doesn’t actually want to let you leave. Or like it’s an order to stay. You’re not sure if you’re reading too much into it. When you look over at him, his eyes are on his phone, but his lips turn up in a smile. He knows your eyes are on him and he’s still playing a game. A game that you just might lose, for the first time in your life.

With a sigh, you shake your head and just fire off a text in response. You don’t have it in you to call Seungcheol and you also aren’t exactly sure what to say. He’s always been able to read your tone like it’s his own. After telling him you might have a lead, he’s going to know something is wrong. This is going to be a problem.

You: it’s been amazing, i’m loving each new thing i get to see in person. I’ll have some pictures to show you tomorrow!

It’s a signal that you’re not going to have anything new to share with him tonight and not to contact you again until you check in the next day. You’re not really sure if this is the right decision, but you need time to clear your head. This is the only way that you can see getting that. It’s too hard to think about making a decision when Wonwoo is still half naked and looking at you like you’re prey. At least you can assume that you could take him if you needed to. Thankfully, he’s not really looking at you like that kind of prey.

“I’ll call him tomorrow,” you say.

“And what will you do tonight?” Wonwoo asks, looking up at you.

“I’m all yours, at least for tonight,” you say.

You’re surprised the look he gives you doesn’t melt you into the floor. “I can work with that.”

The next day brings more confusion than the night before. At least you’re back in your own hotel room and out of the intoxicating orbit of Wonwoo. The downside is that you couldn’t leave his bed without agreeing to lunch plans with him. Both of you wanted to get breakfast together, but hadn’t been able to get out of bed in time for that. You turned down his offer to just buy you new clothes so you wouldn’t have to leave his sight. Thankfully, he does seem to understand that you need a minute to process everything in the last 24 hours. It’s been a bit of a whirlwind.

That’s not what you need to focus on right now, though. You don’t have any more messages from Seungcheol, which is what you expected. Still, you need to call him before he doesn’t something to check on you. Like sending Chan to your hotel with some made up story. You don’t want to put anyone in that position. You also don’t really know what you’re going to say. When you left Wonwoo’s hotel room, he made it clear: the choice was yours. He wants to see you again and he also knows that he’s asking a lot. Too much, probably. So, he’s giving you a choice. If you show up at lunch to meet him, then you’re at least willing to get to know him a little more before deciding anything. If you stand him up, then he’ll know you can’t agree to that. It’s a major gamble for him because you know what he looks like and his real name. You have more than you need to put an end to years of his hard work.

Nothing in your life has prepared you for this. Not really. Sure, you train for missions and you perfect your skills. But, emotions have never been part of it. It’s always been so easy to separate your humanity from your job. Kind of like you just switch of anything that makes you normal and go into mission-mode. You once compared it to being an actor because you’re just playing a part. None of it is real and none of it is really your decision. This is uncharted territory for you.

Once you catch your breath, you pull a device out of the secret pocket in your bag so that you can connect it to your phone. It’ll scramble the signals and make the line secure so that you can call Seungcheol. It’s a bit of normalcy that you’re craving in the madness around you.

“Finally, I’ve been worried,” Seungcheol answers.

“I answered you right away,” you point out.

“Yes, to say that you would not be calling me,” Seungcheol presses and you sigh.

“Because I don’t have anything new to report,” you say without even realizing when you made the decision. The lie flows so easily. “I’ve been cataloging everything on everyone I see at the museums and galleries. Cross checking the names coming into the country. Surveying anyone that sticks out as I check things out.”

“Hey, it’s okay,” Seungcheol cuts in.

“I’m here to find him, though,” you point out. You’re not sure why you’re doing this.

“I know,” he says. “But, I’d rather you be safe.”

“I’m always safe,” you lie. Thankfully, he doesn’t seem to pick up on it.

“I know, but I also know you’re competitive,” he says. “Remember, we’ve already sent no less than 6 teams to find him and they’ve all failed.”

“I don’t fail, though. That’s why you sent me,” you say. You’re not even sure why you’re arguing with him.

“Just be careful. What happened with that lead you thought you had?” he asks.

“A dead end,” you say with a practiced sigh. “Does the intelligence say he’s still in the city?”

“I can’t imagine he’d leave without taking anything,” Seungcheol says.

“Good point,” you say. “I’ll keep looking.”

“Do you want me to send back-up?” he asks.

“It’s your mission,” you say noncommittally. “If you think it’ll help and we can still fly under the radar, then by all means.”

“I was thinking of Chan since he’s still kind of in the area,” he says.

“Ah, yeah, I’m not sure,” you admit.

“You’re right, I know. I do want you to formally meet him soon, though. But, definitely not mid-mission,” he agrees. “Just be careful and keep me updated. If it goes on too long, we’ll just pull you. Maybe he got spooked.”

“Yeah, that works,” you agree.

“See you when you’re back,” he says.

“See you,” you answer and hang up.

It feels awful to lie to him, of all people. He’s one of the only people that you’ve ever trusted in your life. The only one that knows exactly who you are, knows all your demons, and still accepts you. He knows just how many people are six feet under because of you, knows the ways you’ve had to use your body, knows the lies you’ve told and the people you’ve hurt, both physically and emotionally. He knows all your scars and he accepts it. Because you know all his scars, too. It sucks to lie to him.

Sometimes they say that indecision is still a decision. That’s where you are now. You can say that you haven’t made a decision about what you’re going to do with Wonwoo. You can say that you’re waiting for more information. But, in a way, you’ve made at least one decision in his favor. You didn’t tell Seungcheol that your lead turned out to be the art thief himself. No. Instead, you’re showering and getting ready to meet him again, about to make yet another decision. Maybe you were always going to agree to lunch rather than stand him up. He’s got a lot to lose here too. It’s far more complicated than it should be.

Your head is a little in the clouds by the time you leave your room to head down to the lobby and out into the comfortable winter air. If you spend a little more time than strictly necessary making sure you look nice, well that’s your business. The only drawback is that you don’t have Wonwoo’s phone number, at your own insistence, and so he may think you decided to stand him up. That worry lasts as long as it takes for you to reach the lobby. That’s where you see him, sitting casually in an armchair with his eyes locked on you. There’s no reason for the way your heart skips over such a simple outfit. It’s just a t-shirt and a leather jacket. Why are you nearly losing your mind?

“What are you doing here?” you ask and he gives you the most charming smile you’ve ever seen. It probably even puts your own smile to shame.

“I took a chance that you would decide in my favor,” he says and stands up.

“Confident,” you say, “but still, I was supposed to meet you at the restaurant since I hadn’t decided.”

“It’s a date. I’m picking you up,” he says and surprises you by placing a gentle kiss on your cheek .

“Isn’t that chivalrous of you,” you comment while trying to convince your heart to stop beating out of your chest.

“Shall we?” he asks and motions for you to walk ahead of him.

The chivalry doesn’t stop at picking you up at your hotel, unfortunately for you. He opens the door and then gently takes your hand. There’s a hand on your back when you step around him. He puts himself between you and any traffic. It’s the best anyone has ever treated you and you hate that you’re even noticing that. Now, you’re thinking that you should have stood him up for an entirely different reason.

Lunch feels like the most normal thing in the world. The real reason for being in this beautiful city doesn’t come up at all. Instead, you talk about life and interests. The type of music and food that you like. What you do in your free time. It’s exactly what you imagine first or second dates to be like. Not that you have much experience with actually dating.

It only gets deeper from there with Wonwoo telling you more about himself. Not about how he really makes money, but it certainly helps you understand how he got involved and how he stays under the radar. As it turns out, he comes from a lot of money. He doesn’t say it in a way that sounds like he’s bragging. It makes sense, though. Everything about him screams old money, which fits the profile you put together. The way he carries himself, the way he speaks, the way he dresses. It doesn’t feel like someone that’s made his money from stealing art. You learn that he’s involved in a lot of charities, which surprises you a bit. You also learn that he sponsors students in a video game design program in his home country. There’s so much more to him than stealing art. In fact, that seems to be such a small part of who he is. It’s more than a little surprising, which is odd since it’s usually so hard to surprise you. It’s clear that he’s grown up around art. All this time and he’s just been hiding in plain sight.

The two of you sit at lunch for so long that the servers finally, very politely, indicate that it’s time to leave. It’s never been this easy to sit with someone in your entire life. It’s a level of comfort that you should absolutely not feel with someone like Wonwoo. But, you can’t help it. You can’t help the way you feel around him. Can’t really fight the feelings that keep threatening to bubble up.

The roads aren’t nearly as busy when you walk back towards your hotel. Even though it’s a tourist city, it still quiets down in the mid-afternoon when the local businesses close down. The tourists seem to use the time to also relax or take advantage of certain monuments being quieter. It lends itself to the comfortable silence that settles around you and Wonwoo on the walk.

When you reach the lobby, you turn to face Wonwoo and your breath catches a little. The sun in July isn’t as strong, but it still provides a backlight like he’s some sort of dark angel. Which sounds insane, even if your head. There have been so many beautiful people in your life, yet this is the one that has you forgetting how to put words together. It’s like he knows exactly what you’re thinking when he steps into your space and takes your face in his hands. He kisses you so fiercely that you forget your name. It’s the kind of kiss that doesn’t look like much from the outside, but changes your entire world on the inside.

“Well how am I supposed to go back to my room and leave you now?” you ask against his lips when he pulls back. You can feel the smile on his own lips when he kisses you again.

“Isn’t it obvious?” he whispers.

“No,” you whisper back and kiss him again.

“I don’t want you to leave me,” he says.

That makes you pull back sharply so that you can search his face. Does he realize how that sounds? It makes you wonder if he means more than just tonight. What is he trying to do to you? How many ways can one man make you reconsider everything you stand for? Nothing about his face looks smug or even insincere. In fact, he looks the way you imagine you feel. A little smitten and a lot unsure of what to do next.

“And what would I do instead?” you ask, though you have an idea where he’s going.

“Go pack a bag of some of your things and come stay with me for the next few days,” he requests. It’s just bordering on a demand, even though it’s clearly your call.

“Are you crazy? We barely know each other,” you protest without much heat.

“What better way to get to know each other?” he counters. He grabs your hips, pulling you close to his body so he can wrap his arms around you. “And think about it. I can see you’re still not sure what you want to do. If you’re with me, you’ll know where I am at all times. I can’t get into any trouble while you’re still deciding.”

“I suppose you do make a point,” you concede.

“I have never done anything this reckless in my life. So, I’m just asking for a chance,” he shares.

It’s a little insane for him to say this is the most reckless thing he’s done in his life. Surely, stealing art is crazier than this. Which would make you lean towards not believing him if it weren’t for the voice in the back of your head. That little voice that agrees with him. You’ve put your life in danger more times than you can count, but saying yes to the man in front of you feels like the most dangerous idea yet. Maybe it’s because you know it’s not your body you’re putting on the line, but your heart. And maybe, just maybe, that’s what he means too. That he’s never taken the chance to chase someone like this. Or maybe you just want to believe that you might be special.

All you can do is nod at him and watch the smile that breaks across his face. It’s honest, unguarded. It’s real. There’s nothing behind it except genuine happiness that you agreed to spend the next few days with him. Before you can second guess your decision, you give him one more kiss and nearly run up to your room.

Being separated from him gives you the chance to actually catch your breath. To focus on what you need to bring with you. Since, apparently, you’re not going to reconsider if this is actually a good idea or not. You know you should. You know that this is another one of those moments that you chalk up to indecision when your actual decision could not be any louder. Again, you’re reminded of what you’re doing here. What you’re supposed to be doing here. This man is your enemy. He’s the person you’re supposed to be arresting and bringing into The Agency to face sentencing. You’re a good agent. You always put the mission ahead of yourself, your thoughts, your beliefs, or even your relationships. This isn’t a version of yourself that you recognize and it should stop you in your tracks.

Instead, you decide which dress to pack away and what pair of shoes looks best. For the first time in your life, you’re diving in first and asking questions later. Or never.

It shouldn’t be surprising that you end up naked in Wonwoo’s bed minutes after crossing the threshold to his hotel room. Not with how things have gone so far for the two of you. Yet, what is surprising is that the sex is even better than the night before. You’re catching your breath, tucked into Wonwoo’s side, body tacky with sweat but so impossibly happy. His hand that’s around you absently traces patterns into your skin. It’s honestly like you’ve known him for years. It’s insane to realize how comfortable you feel when that’s not something you ever experience. Not like this.

It’s also shocking to you how much this man wants to share with you. He carries on your chats from lunch as if he hadn’t just fucked you into his mattress yet again. Like this means more than some dirty sex holed up in a hotel in a foreign city. Makes you feel like you might actually mean something to him, which is a very dangerous feeling to have. Both of you know that this can’t mean more than what it is. At least, you think you know that and you think he might too. But, there’s a clear understanding that you won’t talk about it. Not now, at least.

Wonwoo decides that he wants to take you somewhere fancy for dinner. The type of place that you would never consider going to while on a mission. Though, you’re always prepared for anything. When you were packing up your things in your hotel room, you even grabbed a couple nicer dresses. All they needed was a quick steam, which the hotel staff had been only too happy to accommodate. Any protests about it being too much fell on deaf ears. He was set and the two of you were going to a famous restaurant. All you had to do was shower and get ready. Your dress would be ready by the time you needed it.

It’s clear you don’t really understand the limits to Wonwoo’s wealth, if there even are any, when you arrive at the restaurant. It’s the kind of place where you usually need reservations well in advance. It’s not the kind of place you can just show up at. Despite that, the host leads you back to a semi-private area where you’re tucked into a corner booth. It’s clearly one of the nicest tables in the place. You think you catch Wonwoo sliding the host something when he shakes their hand before he turns back to you. All thoughts go out the window when he slides in right next to you, not leaving any space.

Wonwoo’s Spanish really is very remedial and so you help him decipher the menu and order. It gives you pause when there aren’t prices anywhere on the menu, but he’s quick to wave off any concerns. Insists that it’s his treat. You don’t want to think that’s something you could get used to. It isn’t like you have any real trouble affording nice things. Your salary is high and you don’t have much to spend money on. This is a different level, though. It’s even different from the times you’ve gone on a mission and charmed your target. That always feels temporary. Like you’re something of an imposter. You don’t get those feelings here with Wonwoo.

Letting him pick out which outfit you wore may have been a mistake. You discover this once you get your drinks and the waiter leaves you alone. His hand rests possessively on your thigh, against the bare skin of your leg exposed by the slit in your dress. His body is angled towards you and he’s encouraging you to continue telling your story. But, he has to know he’s distracting, too, with the way his hand slides further up your thigh. What started as arguably innocent ventures quickly into dangerous territory.

“You were saying?” he prompts. His hand is inside the fabric of your dress now, keeping you from pressing your thighs together like you want to.

“I, uh…” you stutter as he digs his hand into the soft flesh there. “Wonwoo, aren’t you worried?”

“About what?” he asks innocently.

“Getting caught,” you hiss and look down at your lap.

“No, sweetheart, I’m not worried,” he says and you glare at him, “because you’re going to be good for me and be quiet.”

“I don’t know…” you start and stop as soon as his pinky grazes along your entrance through your panties. “Fuck.”

“Doesn’t seem like you actually want me to stop,” he points out.

“I, fuck, you know I don’t but there are people,” you say softly.

“I paid good money for this table. I don’t think we’ll be disturbed,” he tells you.

“I…” you start. When he pulls his finger away, you nearly whine.

“I need to hear you say you want it,” he says.

“What?” you ask, a little louder than you intended.

“Use your words,” he directs and you glare.

“Fuck you,” you hiss, earning a chuckle out of him.

“Not yet,” he retorts.

“Fine, yes. I want your fingers inside me here in this damn restaurant,” you say.

He’s expecting this answer. It’s written all over his face. This time, he doesn’t tease you. Doesn’t waste any time because you may not have much of it. He simply pushes your panties to the side and slides his first finger into you. The angle doesn’t make it easy but his fingers are long and slender, like they were built for something like this. It’s hard to keep from making a sound, so you try to do anything to distract yourself from the way he pumps into you. Or the way he adds a second finger so quickly.

When you pick up your drink to take a sip from the straw, you watch his eyes on you. They seem to darken the second that you wrap your lips around the straw. His fingers pump into you even faster. And his lips are demanding on yours when you set the drink back down. You moan softly into his mouth without really considering if anyone is paying attention or if they can hear you. His tongue tangles with yours frantically while he tries to get you off right in that booth.

This is new for you. You definitely didn’t think you would get so turned on by the fact that anyone could walk back over to see what you were doing. Anyone could hear the noises you’re making. Anyone could figure it out. When he feels that your pussy clenching around his fingers, he pulls away from the kiss. Leans his forehead against yours so that he can whisper filthy things in the space between you. Tells you how good you feel and how he loves watching you when you’re about to come. Moans about how tight you are. How pliant you are for him. Reminds you to be quiet. Tells you he can’t wait to taste you on his fingers. That’s what finally pushes you over the edge.

Your fingers grip the edge of the booth underneath you as you come hard and fast. He lazily guides you through it and then follows through by bringing his fingers to his lips. It’s so hot that you consider asking if you can just leave and go back to the room to be fucked properly. But, then your stomach rumbles and you think better of it. It’s only another few minutes before the first course arrives with a slightly knowing look from the waiter. After that first course, you excuse yourself to the bathroom to clean up, at least a little. You deem your panties ruined and just remove them, tucking them away into your bag. You’ll have to be a little more careful the rest of the night.

This dinner is somehow even better than the first and it has nothing to do with the place being expensive, though the food is definitely amazing. You also don’t think it really has anything to do with the way Wonwoo fingered you under the table. That’s definitely a first for you. Exhibitionism hasn’t been your thing before, but maybe he’s got you learning new things about yourself. It had only taken him a minute to realize that you weren’t wearing underwear anymore. It definitely took him another minute to regain his composure.

The thing that actually makes this dinner better than the first is the man across from you. With his walls down, the entire night just feels that much more. It’s one of the only times you’ve ever felt your own guard come down. It’s not smart and you don’t care. You think you probably look a little punch drunk to anyone that can see your table. Then, you meet Wonwoo’s eyes again and think he probably looks the same. You never really have the chance to enjoy dates, but even if you did, this would still probably top them all. It’s all the little things. The way Wonwoo carefully brushes a strand of hair out of your face. The way he offers you a bite off his own plate when you say it looks good. The way he brings your knuckles up to his lips and presses feather light kisses to them.

“Are you going to insist on ordering dessert here too?” you ask after the main course.

“I was thinking we might have dessert back in our room,” he says and you raise an eyebrow.

“Our room?” you question.

“Don’t test me,” he cautions.

“I wouldn’t dare,” you say and lean into him to press a slow kiss to his cheek. Your hand brushes over his lap as a way to get closer.

“Is this you not testing me?” he asks when your hand brushes across his lap again.

“What? You can make me come on your fingers but I can’t tease you a little?” you ask innocently.

Wonwoo grabs your hand and anchors it on your own thigh. “We’re getting out of here and then you can show your appreciation however you want. We don’t need to give them more of a show.”

It seems like it takes an eternity to pay the bill (which Wonwoo doesn’t let you see) and get a cab back to the hotel. The promise of something else simmers between you the entire time. Wonwoo keeps a hand on you the entire time. A hand on your lower back out of the restaurant, fingers intertwined with yours in the cab, an arm around you walking into the hotel. When you get into the elevator, he pulls you back against his chest as more people join. He masks it as affection and presses a kiss to your cheek, but you feel the desire beneath it.

The moment you cross into the room, you slip out of your shoes and turn around to press a kiss to Wonwoo’s lips. The tension between the two of you is thick and it’s hard to remind yourself to come up for a breath. He overwhelms every one of your senses. There’s nothing but him in every corner of your brain when he kisses you like that.

It’s almost embarrassing when he breaks the kiss and you chase his lips. “How about dessert?”

“I thought that was just your way of saying…” you start and he directs your attention to the table. There’s an assortment of fruit, whipped cream, and melted chocolate there.

You’re a little hesitant when he starts to walk to the table. It just feels incredibly intimate, which is true for a lot of what's happened with Wonwoo. But, this still feels different. It feels like more, once again. Wonwoo realizes that you’re not behind him and turns back to you. He closes the space between you yet again and places a hand on your cheek, impossibly soft.

“What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?” he asks.

“I’ve never done…this,” you say softly into the quiet between you and him.

“Pretty sure we’ve already fucked several times,” Wonwoo says to lighten the mood.

“No, I mean, this…I don’t know. The desserts and the whipped cream and chocolate. It just feels, I don’t know, intimate,” you admit.

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to,” he assures you.

It’s absolutely insane that you’re hesitating. It doesn’t have to be some super intimate thing. It’s not like Wonwoo hasn’t already seen every inch of you and gotten to know your body better than anyone should in that period of time. But, this is far beyond the point where you can convince yourself any part of this is for the mission anymore. This isn’t just to keep him close. This is no longer indecision, as much as you want to pretend that it is.

“Is this your go-to move, then? Have a bunch of sweets delivered to the hotel room and seduce people with being all gentle?” you ask.

“I’ve definitely never done this before,” he says and it’s too honest.

Instead of answering him you just kiss him because it’s the only answer you can think of. Somehow, knowing that this is different for him too makes it feel less overwhelming for you. You drag him back towards the table until you’re leaning against it. Your back arches into him as he licks into your mouth. His hands wrap around you to keep you tight against his body. He pulls away again and you’re ready for it this time.

Wonwoo reaches an arm behind you and dips a strawberry in some of the chocolate. He brings it to your lips and watches intently as you get your mouth around it. The first bite sends a little bit of juice and chocolate over your lips. Just as you’re about to wipe it away, Wonwoo pulls the remainder of the strawberry back and kisses it away. It’s like that one action unlocks any hang ups you have. You twist around to scoop up some whipped cream with your finger. Your eyes lock on Wonwoo as you slowly lick it off. With it still in your mouth, you kiss him hard, enjoying the way your tongues dance and the tastes.

The two of you take turns dipping fruit and feeding it to each other. The kisses become more and more desperate in between feeding each other. It’s a little messy, though, so you unbutton Wonwoo’s shirt and slide it off his arms. He undoes your dress to slide it off your body, removing your bra along the way. You rid him of his pants and briefs as well so that you’re not the only one standing there naked.

When you reach back to get more fruit, Wonwoo grabs your hand to stop you. There’s a question in your eyes that he leaves unanswered as he moves things out of the way behind you. Then, he’s sitting you on the edge of the table and reaching for the whipped cream, which also answers your question. He puts some of the topping on your breast and sucks into your skin to lick it off you. Your legs part on their own as you lean back on the table to encourage him to get closer. He swirls his tongue around your nipple before softly nipping at your skin. Without warning, he bites into the flesh of your breast and laves over the spot to soothe you.

Food should not be this sexy. Maybe it’s just that it’s Wonwoo tempting you, but you’ve never been this turned on. His tongue is everywhere across your breasts and your stomach. Covering you in kisses while also licking the whipped cream or chocolate off of you. Your nails scratch down his back each time he nips into your skin. Somehow the sensations are everywhere all at once. You wrap your legs around his waist to anchor him closer to you.

“I need you inside me,” you whine out with Wonwoo kissing along your neck.

“Are you sure you’re ready for that?” he asks into your skin.

“Feel for yourself,” you encourage.

Wonwoo pulls away from your neck and looks at you with lust. He presses his fingers to your mouth and you suck them in without even thinking about it. They’re sweet as you swirl your tongue around them. “Fuck, that’s hot.”

As if it’s confirmation, he ruts against you, seemingly hard just from all the making out and the food. You pull his fingers from your mouth and guide them to your already dripping pussy. He’s not the only one that’s gotten insanely turned on. As soon as you guide his fingers through your folds he groans again.

Neither one of you is in the mood to wait and he doesn’t waste any time angling his hand so he can pump his fingers inside you. Just presses two fingers right in and adds a third to try and open you up. It makes you scream out, praising his fingers with how quickly they work you over. He removes his hand entirely too quickly and you’re whining at the loss. Wonwoo runs a hand along his cock, pumping a couple times and catching some of the precum to spread it along his length. It’s not enough, but you don’t really care right now.

“Please, Wonwoo, I need you,” you beg.

“Feeling a little desperate, princess?” he teases, that cocky smirk back on him.

“Just fuck me already,” you whine.

Wonwoo doesn’t say anything else, just lines himself up and presses his tip into you. It stretches you out and you’re a little surprised that he goes so slowly. Then, you realize that it feels like more when he’s inching into you like this. His eyes watch you for any signs of discomfort. He leans forward and catches your lips in the neediest kiss of the night when he bottoms out in you. You lean back onto your elbows, bringing him along with you. The kisses get sloppier as he starts to thrust into you.

He pulls away from you to reposition and presses your leg up so that he can get deeper. You let your leg fall over his arm so that you don’t have to hold it up. The moans between the two of you are loud enough to drown out the sound of skin on skin as he fucks into you hard. You can’t help it, though, and you throw your head back in pleasure.

“Look at me,” he directs roughly.

You moan in response but tilt your head back towards him. It feels like a chore and that’s when it occurs to you. Taking hold of his free hand, you move it to your throat. For a second, his eyes go wide and his pace slows. He’s searching your face for a clue before he grabs your throat a little more forcefully.

“Are you sure?” he asks.

“Yes, fuck,” you groan out. “I’ll tap you if it’s too much.”

“You’re so fucking hot,” he utters, flexing his fingers on your throat.

Somehow, Wonwoo seems to know the perfect amount of pressure. It’s just tight enough that it makes it a little harder to breathe, but not so much that it’s actually choking you. He seems more comfortable than when he did it the first time. It also makes it easier to keep your eyes on him the way he wants. Everything feels heightened and it’s entirely too soon that you’re rushing to your high. You clench your walls around Wonwoo and he fucks you harder, groaning at the increased tightness.

“Gonna come all over my dick again?” he asks and you moan.

You can’t really say anything and you don’t want to. This is all you need. Your hand winds down your body and you look at Wonwoo with a question in your eyes.

“Go ahead, baby, touch yourself,” he directs you.

Asking for permission to do anything is unlike you, but there’s something about wanting to please this man that drives you to all sorts of new things. You rub your clit in time with his thrusts and it seems like only moments pass before you’re tipping over that edge.

Heavy breaths eventually subside to find Wonwoo slowly, almost lazily, fucking into you. His hands are now both on your hips as he waits for you to come down. You sit up with him still inside you and kiss him, slow and full of all sorts of unspoken things.

“You really are fucking amazing,” you say, voice a little hoarse. “You can move faster.”

“I was thinking we might need to get into the shower,” he says with a smirk, pressing a finger to your skin. You’re about to object when you watch him pull it away and it sticks.

“Maybe I can take care of you in there, then,” you say and kiss him softly.

His eyes seem to light up a little at that. He slides out of you gently and walks slowly into the bathroom. You meant what you said. Shower sex is definitely not your thing because it’s never as sexy as people make it out to be. It can be slippery and there aren’t really any good positions. That doesn’t mean you can’t help him out a little.

Wonwoo has other ideas first, it seems. Once the water is warm enough, both of you get in and he lathers up a loofah to gently wash all the stickiness from your body. It’s gentle in a way you’re not expecting and impossibly thoughtful. You relax against his back with his arms around you while he makes sure all the remnants are gone.

When you’re clean, you turn around to face him and kiss him hard. The water falling on your back creates the perfect sensation with the heat between the two of you. He gathers you against his body, hands sliding down to grip your ass. It’s all you can do not to melt right on the spot. You think that you could probably kiss this man for the rest of your life and never get bored. Or never fully prepare yourself for the way it makes you feel.

You drop to your knees and take his cock in your hand. He leans back against the wall of the shower as he looks down on you. It’s crazy to you how turned on this man gets (or stays) just from kissing or skin contact. No matter what, his body always seems to be ready for you. You run your tongue along his length and swirl your tongue around the tip. You’re impatient and you know he’s been waiting, so you don’t waste any time before you suck him into your mouth. You relax your throat and swallow as much of his cock as you’re able to, alternating between bobbing and hollowing out your cheeks.

“You look so good looking up at me like that,” he groans.

You hum around his dick and Wonwoo grabs the back of your head to anchor you there. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes before he releases you and you can get a breath. Even in this position, you can tell that you actually have control over this man. It’s a great feeling since he’s been in control every other time. His hips buck when you suck him back into you. It’s definitely a powerful feeling. The groans also tell you what you already know, you’re good at this. He’s putty in your hands.

With a few more bobs, he’s coming down your throat and then slumping back against the shower wall. It doesn’t stop him from helping you up off your knees. You pepper light kisses along his collarbones before he surprises you and pulls you into another kiss. It’s never been your experience that a man wants to kiss you like that, but he doesn’t shy away.

“We better get out of this shower before we run through all the hot water,” he says between kisses.

“You’re right,” you say with a sigh.

The two of you step out of the shower and Wonwoo is quick to wrap you up in a towel. It takes everything in you to tell your heart to calm down. You know Wonwoo feels all the same things you do. Even if he's not free with vocalizing his emotions, his actions tell you exactly what he’s thinking. If you know where to look, that is. You’re realizing that you definitely know where to work.

Twenty minutes later, your skin care routine is done and you’re curled up in bed in one of Wonwoo’s oversized t-shirts. You know your alarm is going to be too early tomorrow since you need to check in with Seungcheol, but all you want to do tonight is curl up and talk more with this incredibly interesting man.

Something seems to shift now that you’re holed up in Wonwoo’s hotel room with him for the next however many days. Before, he seemed hesitant to talk about the real reason you two crossed paths. You’re not sure what causes the change or why he trusts that you’re not going to just turn around and burn him. Maybe it’s just that you haven’t done it yet.

“What made you want to start stealing art?” you ask while the two of you are sitting outside on the balcony. This room really is too nice. It almost makes it hard to leave and explore.

“I don’t know if it was that I wanted to steal art,” he chuckles.

“Okay, how did you start, then?” you ask with an affectionate eye roll.

“It’s going to sound stupid,” he says with an uncharacteristic shyness. “I guess, I don’t know, I grew up in this house where nobody ever seemed to care what I was doing. I stole the first piece from my parents and sold it off to someone I’d met at this underground club. I figured my parents would catch me and then at least I’d have their attention for a minute.”

“I’m guessing they didn’t catch you,” you comment.

“They didn’t even notice it was gone,” he says with a chuckle. “How old were you?” you ask.

“16,” he answers immediately.

“So you’ve been doing this…?” you start, doing the math in your head.

“12 years, yeah,” he says. “It took awhile to get to the point I’m at now. I think for a while I was figuring that my parents would somehow catch on and give a shit about my life. By the time I was 19, I was really good at it and I’d made a lot of contacts. I still moved in all those circles so I never looked out of place at a gallery or a museum. Nobody looked twice at me.”

“Did it ever get lonely?” you ask and Wonwoo regards you for a moment. “I just mean that you were still part of all these circles. You still went to all these parties and it seems like none of them knew you at all. You were hiding in plain sight because nobody knew you well enough to see it.”

“I had the networks of people that I sold to or accepted jobs from,” he says.

“But everything I’ve ever seen says that you rarely met with those people in person. It was always online contact and leaving pieces somewhere after the money had been wired,” you share.

“I guess your agency got a few things right,” he mumbles.

“It sounds loney,” you say sympathetically.

“I wish you were a little less observant,” he says like he’s trying for a joking tone.

It’s immediately obvious that he’s a little tired and definitely lonely. You can’t really imagine that type of life. Sure, you’ve been working on your own or with a single partner for your entire adult life. But, you’ve still been part of an organization. There are people that know you at your core. There are people that you can turn to when everything in life feels like it sucks. No matter how bad things get, you know there are people out there who can support you.

Almost involuntarily, a series of images pop into your head. Wonwoo in a suit at a charity gala, the type of person that everyone wants to approach. You can imagine people whispering behind their hands about going to speak to him or ask him to dance. Maybe trying to approach him at the bar. Then you see him just as clearly at home afterwards, alone and sitting on his couch with a drink in hand. You see him perusing a museum to get the lay of the land so that he can steal it later. Once again, alone. You see how he probably sits at home communicating with all his potential buyers.

Wonwoo reads the look on your face and assures you that it’s probably not as bad as you’re imagining things. Yes, he admits that he’s lonely sometimes and that he’s alone more than he’s with other people. It’s hard for him to let anyone in. He doesn’t want to have to account for his time or trust that they won’t blow his cover. There’s nobody in his life that he can be totally himself with, at least not until meeting you. But, he insists that it hasn’t been so bad. Mostly, he prefers to be on his own anyway. He likes the quiet and the solitude. Likes to be able to enjoy his down time however he likes. He gets enough socialization when he goes to events as he’s expected to.

Which brings up a question. After over a decade of doing everything solo, why has he trusted you with all of this now? His answer comes more immediately than you would expect, yet it makes sense. You have something to lose here, too. Possibly even more than he does. After all, there have been a lot of teams that have been close to unraveling his mysterious identity. You, on the other hand, are supposed to be tracking him down. Not spending time locked away in his hotel room with him. That brings you up a little short because he’s right and you’re not planning on going anywhere.

He admits that you intrigue him. All his life, Wonwoo has appreciated a good puzzle or a good challenge. You present both to him, though it hasn’t been as much of a challenge to get you to give him a chance as he expected. It is a challenge to try and unravel you. To try and figure out what made you say yes to the date and what makes you stay now. You also meet him on a level that nobody ever has before. You nearly blush at the way he describes your intelligence and how he feels more turned on by your brain than anyone before. Normally something like that would make you cringe. But, somehow Wonwoo makes it sound both sexy and endearing. You’re just as challenged by him, too, so maybe you get it.

It also brings up some very conflicting feelings in you because it’s a reminder that you have a life entirely separate from him. You have a life that doesn’t allow you to account for this time. At some point, you have to make a final choice. It’s way too late to just turn Wonwoo in without any sort of repercussion. It’s too late to act like this is all just in the name of bringing down one of the most difficult targets you’ve had to track. In the name of getting to know Wonwoo better, you’ve also shared a lot about yourself. A lot that someone like Seungcheol would be able to clock immediately as being true. Every moment you stay with Wonwoo makes your future more complicated. Things are already too hazy.

“Okay enough heavy stuff,” you declare and stand. “Let’s go do something.”

“Such as?” he prompts.

“We’re in a beautiful city, let’s go see some of it,” you suggest.

Wonwoo wants to take a minute to actually plan something, but you veto that. He’s definitely not the spontaneous type, which you figured out before you were even sure who he was. It makes more sense now, knowing who he is. So it feels like more of a win that he relents and agrees to just go with the flow. It’s not as if you’ll be flying totally blind anyway. You did a lot of research before coming down for the mission and you know a lot of the places to see, both tourist places and some that are off the beaten path.

Once you’re outside of the hotel room, things feel different in a way you can’t quite put your finger on. Everything in the hotel room feels real in the sense of getting to know each other. The conversations can be heavy and there’s that constant need to rip each other’s clothes off. Being outside exploring a foreign city feels real in an entirely different way. None of the conversations are heavy since you’re just appreciating the sights. But, you and Wonwoo trade off in taking pictures of each other (or even snap some together) and it feels like a glimpse at another life. It isn’t a fantasy world because it does feel real, but it doesn’t feel like an actual reality either. It almost feels like a mission you’re on where you and him would pretend to be a couple. You have to remind yourself this is actually a mission and you’re running around with your target because Wonwoo isn’t your partner.

When you’re in Plaza de Mayo, you take a step back to allow Wonwoo to purchase something to eat. It’s too cute to watch him stumble through his Spanish, constantly looking over at you as if asking for help. All you can do is smile as he mixes up hombre and hambre. The older woman putting the food together only smiles softly. There’s something incredibly cute about watching this stoic man get flushed over ordering in another language.

The next few days follow mostly the same pattern. You wake up earlier than Wonwoo so that you can pretend to work on the mission and actually check in with Seungcheol. Wonwoo pretends that he’s still asleep sometimes. Other times, he gets up and works on his own things. It’s cute that he’ll do anything to make it seem like you have privacy. Breakfast in the room always comes next because it’s an easy way to get ready for the day.

The days themselves are all a little bit different. You see the Piramide de Mayo, the Floralis Generica, the monuments to Juana Azurduy and General Jose de San Martin, Teatro Colon, the planetarium and several other interesting sights. The planetarium is a personal favorite of yours because it’s just kind of weird in an affectionate way. It’s hard to truly pick a favorite though because each new stop teaches you more about the local culture. It’s the kind of place that just makes you want to fall in love with it. There’s so much beauty and so much to appreciate. Each new stop also seems to involve learning something new about Wonwoo and somehow him trying his hand at Spanish again, only to fail. You’re wondering if he does it just to entertain you.

While you’re seeing all the tourist spots, you take time to see the things the locals recommend as well. Sometimes that’s hole-in-the-wall food places or stands that someone mentions. Other times it’s a park that’s too out of the way for tourists. Even other times still, it’s a hidden access point to the beach. Thankfully, it’s still cool out and getting Wonwoo to agree to the beach isn’t difficult. You idly wonder what it would be like to try and get him to visit the beach in January when it’s the dead of summer.

You want to try as many local dishes as you can while you’re there, too. Given his way, Wonwoo would probably eat in the hotel room just as much as out of it, but you don’t know when you’re going to get this chance again. So, even though he’s worn out from spending so much time around people, he lets you drag him out again every night. He even seems to enjoy himself.

At the start of whatever this is, it was always you asking Wonwoo all the questions and trying to volunteer as little about yourself as possible. You’re still an agent and you’re still supposed to be after him. The least you can do, while you’re totally ignoring your mission, is try to better understand Wonwoo and his motivations. Even if you don’t end up turning him in, it's an invaluable experience to get to look into the mind of a criminal. When will you get another chance like this? When will you be this close to someone to ask personal questions? No part of you even considers that he’s lying to you. You’re positive that he answers everything truthfully.

Somewhere along the line, it shifts. Maybe because you know everything you want to know about the man across from you. Or maybe because you genuinely feel comfortable about him. Either way, he’s the one that’s asking you questions now. Surprisingly, though, he doesn’t want to know anything about your work. He doesn’t seem to care about any of that. There’s a nagging thought that thinks he might just be trying to make you comfortable. You try to quickly brush it away, though, and just answer any of the personal questions he asks. Wonwoo wants to know the simple things like where you grew up, what your family was like, and what you wanted to do when you were younger. The things that allow him to really know you. It’s terrifying.

By the time you get back to the hotel that night, you’re exhausted. It feels like it’s been a never ending span of days in the best way. You collapse on the bed without changing. All you manage to do is take off your shoes. Wonwoo leans over you and kisses you, softly at first. But, like every other kiss with him, it leaves you gasping for air after a minute.

It’s amazing how he seems to take your breath away and even more amazing how he always seems like he’s ready to tear your clothes off. You’ve never had someone like him in your life. But, that also brings you back to reality. Wonwoo asked you to give him a few days staying in his hotel room. It’s definitely been longer than that without either of you seeming to notice. There’s a level of comfort that neither of you talk about given that this all has an expiration date. And that expiration date is rapidly approaching.

Staying with Wonwoo turns out to be longer than either of you planned and neither of you has a complaint about it. You’ve been checking in with Seungcheol every morning and Wonwoo pretends not to listen. It’s been like living in a little bubble where reality isn’t a concern.

That’s just the thing, though, isn’t it? This isn’t real life, not for you. This isn’t something that lasts long term or that you can even sustain. The reality is still there. Wonwoo is one of the most infamous art thieves to ever live and you work for a secret agency tasked with bringing criminals like him to justice. You’re not exactly sure what the last however many days have been. All you know is this is just a break from reality. A brief glimpse into an alternate life that can never be. It’s been amazing and something you won’t ever forget. You’re hoping that you’re both on the same page about that, at least.

“I should probably go back to my hotel today,” you say.

Wonwoo looks up from across the room where he’s reading while you pretend to work on your case. It helps to at least log in to the system. “To get more stuff?”

“I can’t stay here forever,” you point out.

“No, I expect at some point we’ll leave and head to the next place,” he agrees with a shrug.

“We?” you ask, eyebrows flying up.

“Yes, we,” he says like suddenly you’re slow on the uptake. “I’ve got a few places in mind that I’d love to take you, but it’s really up to you.”

“Wonwoo,” you start and your heart sinks.

You are definitely not on the same page. Probably not even in the same book, if you’re honest. Everything over the past days with him has been amazing. The perfect little escape from your reality. But, that’s all it’s been: an escape. Or maybe that’s all you’ve let yourself think it was. Anything else seems like entirely too much. His face drops as he watches you.

“You’re not coming with me,” he realizes.

“I didn’t even know you would want me to!” you state, too loud for the space.

“How could you not? I’ve been telling you all the places that I wanted you to see,” he says and that hits you harder than a physical blow. He’s been giving you all the signs that this isn’t just a bubble.

“I didn’t think you were serious,” you point out.

“Clearly,” he says, voice thick with disappointment.

“Wonwoo, come on. It’s not like I can just, what? Run away?” you say.

“Oh, no, there’s a whole life waiting for you back at your precious agency,” he says with derision.

“It’s all I’ve ever known,” you plead.

“And I’ve shown you that there’s more to life than whatever this is for you,” he counters.

“I can’t just leave them,” you say with a shake of your head.

That seems to make Wonwoo angrier than you expect. “No, of course not. How silly of me. You have to get back to your handler that so clearly loves you.”

“Seungcheol does not love me. We’re friends, sure, but that’s it,” you disagree.

“Let’s pretend that’s true and it’s normal for a handler to speak to you the way he does. Or that it’s normal for him to worry so much about your safety. Who are you going back to apart from him? Who’s waiting for you?” Wonwoo asks.

The questions wash over you like acid rain. Painful and harsh and unrelenting. The worst part is that he’s right. You have wondered if there are some feelings there from Seungcheol. You also don’t have anyone waiting for you. It’s really a half-life, if you’re being honest. Less than a half-life, probably. The past few days with Wonwoo are the most alive you’ve felt since you were a child, before joining the agency.

“I can’t just…this is my job, Wonwoo. And you’re an art thief. A very famous one and…” you start.

“Have I stolen anything here?” he asks and that brings you up short.

“Well, no, of course not. You’ve been with me,” you say simply.

“And I will leave this city without stealing. I will switch careers entirely if it’s that important, though it doesn’t seem like it is since you haven’t turned me in,” he says and it’s almost like he’s talking to himself. “I’ve been all over the globe trying to feel something. Trying for anything. I started stealing because I could. I wanted to get the attention my parents never gave me. I kept going because I was looking for a challenge, which it is, at least sometimes. I was looking for someone, I think. Then, I find you and you’re everything I didn’t know to ask for. But, you’re telling me some job where you can’t even have a life is more important than this? That my job, which I’m completely willing to give up, is too much of a barrier?”

“I have a life,” you scoff.

“Really?” Wonwoo challenges and folds his arms. “When was the last time you went on a real date? Not with a target, but a real date just with someone you wanted to know? When’s the last time you let yourself just breathe and explore a city? When’s the last time you did something just because you wanted to?”

“Plenty of people are married to their jobs,” you begin.

“I thought you were brave, you know,” Wonwoo muses. “I thought you were someone who would realize how rare this is. It’s not like everyone is lucky enough to meet a person that completes them like this. I guess I was wrong. I guess all I was really good for was fucking you and that’s all it was.”

“Of course that’s not all it was,” you disagree. There are tears threatening to spill over. This isn’t at all how you imagined it going. You weren’t prepared for him to try to fight for you. “The last few days with you have been everything I never thought I’d experience. But, it hasn’t been real, Wonwoo. It can’t be real. Life doesn’t work that way.”

“Why can’t it?” he fires at you.

“Because I don’t deserve it!” you scream, tears finally streaming down your face. “Because you don’t know my scars. You don’t know the things I’ve done. You don’t know the mistakes I’ve made. You don’t know that I have demons that are constantly chasing me.”

“I’m a fucking criminal,” he points out. “Who am I to judge?”

“Exactly,” you agree but rush to finish your thought before Wonwoo can interject. “You don’t…question the decisions you’ve made. You stand on everything you’ve done. But, you also do so much good with charities and helping students and just giving back. Plus, I’ve looked at your crimes. You only ever stole from the rich to sell to other rich people.”

“Yet you still were sent to chase me,” he points out.

“Yeah, who do you think pays our salaries?” you ask flatly. “My point is that…I don’t know. I’m standing here across from you and I feel like I’m the infinitely worse person in this situation.”

“It really can’t be that bad,” he reasons.

“I’ve taken lives, Wonwoo. More than I can count. And without even questioning if our reasoning was solid for taking them out. I’ve used my body in ways that I may never recover from, thinking it was my choice at the time. I’ve done what I was told and I’ve been good at it. Too good, maybe,” you say. You’re talking to yourself more than him at this point. “I’m the one they send when they don’t want a record. I’m the one they send when nobody else can do it. I’ve spent the last 10 years of my life training and doing what I was told. It’s given me scars that you can’t see and won’t ever heal. All I know is this. They’re not just going to let me go. And even if they did, you don’t deserve all the baggage that I come with. You’re not a bad guy.”

“And you think you are? A bad guy?” he asks.

“I know I am,” you say.

“That’s all you are if that’s all you see, but I see so much more,” he argues.

“I still can’t just ask them to walk away,” you press.

“I wasn’t suggesting that you ask,” he says. “You deserve a chance to start fresh. To see what you can be without the weight of the world hanging over your head.”

“I don’t deserve anything more than what I have now,” you disagree.

“What about love? Do you deserve that?” he asks, changing directions.

“I don’t know,” you admit.

“And me? Do I deserve love?” he asks.

“Yes, without question,” you answer immediately.

“So give me the chance to experience love,” he begs. “I never thought I’d love anyone and I’ve never taken this kind of chance on anyone. But, I’m asking you for a chance. Just one more.”

There’s so much tension in the air between you. So many things still left unsaid and so much emotion. The air between you and him seems to crackle. A storm brews behind his eyes as he waits for you to answer him. It seems insane to think that he could feel that for you after such a short time. But, really, what do you know? You have unquestionably never been in love before, not really. There’s never been the time or space for it in your line of work. Relationships never seem to get deeper because you’re always keeping secrets. Can’t ever tell them what you really do for work. And then there’s Wonwoo. He knows so much about you already and even though it’s barely scratched the surface, it’s still more honest than you’ve ever been. He doesn’t want to run away and that scares you more than any mission you’ve ever had.

It’s just…it’s too much to decide now. You spend your whole life having to make split second decisions, yet can’t about this. Don’t have the data that you have on missions. Don’t know the pros and cons. It’s uncharted territory. It’s scary in a way you’ve never experienced. You’ve stared down the barrel of too many guns and this still feels infinitely more terrifying. Maybe he can love you after such a short amount of time because he seems to realize what you’re going to say before you say it.

“Don’t,” he says softly when you open your mouth. “I’m going to leave the day after tomorrow. I’m going to set the flight to leave at 1 in the afternoon. That gives you time to change your mind.”

“And if I don’t reach you before then?” you ask softly.

“Don’t ever expect to find me again,” he says with a finality that surprises you. When you meet his gaze, it’s harder than you’re expecting. “I really care about you and I’d love you to come with me. But I know how stubborn you are. It’s part of why I love you so much. So I’m leaving my heart open until the day after tomorrow. Then it’s over.”

“You’re an amazing person, Wonwoo,” you say and press a kiss to his cheek. “You’ve challenged a lot of my ideas about right and wrong. I’ll never forget that.”

“I’m not accepting this as goodbye. I’ll still hope to see you before I leave,” he says and presses the gentlest kiss to your forehead.

Your throat is too tight to say anything in response to that. All you can do is gather up your things and head out of the hotel room. Everything in your body feels tired from the unexpected heaviness of the conversation. It hurts to see Wonwoo looking so hurt. As crazy as it sounds, you do mean that he deserves the absolute best. You also meant it that made you rethink a lot of your preconceived notions. You actually questioned things for the first time in your adult life. Despite all of that, you still walk right out of the hotel room.

You spend nearly every minute after walking out of Wonwoo’s hotel room considering his offer. Go as far as scheduling your flight out of Buenos Aires for the same time as his. Genuinely, you’re not sure what you want to do. At least Seungcheol understood failing the mission. Somehow, he still sees it as a win that nothing was stolen from anywhere in the city while you were there. He assumes that your presence somehow spooked the notorious art thief. Thankfully he doesn’t realize just how right he is.

The biggest surprise is that Chan, the slightly overeager agent from the flight down, will be meeting you when you get on the plane. He’s only wrapping up a second mission that popped up in the area. The Agency is sending him along so that you can debrief about your actual mission and start looping him in going forward. Apparently, as great as you are and as (almost) perfect as your record is, the agency still wants to have someone for you to work with when you need them. Since that can’t be Seungcheol, he’s recommending a promising younger agent. This apparently also includes you being the one to tell him all of this yourself.

The airport is busy when you get there, an unsurprising side effect of planning flights during the afternoon. There’s also the fact that private planes have to leave from the international airport, which is always somewhat packed. Getting through customs and security is surprisingly smooth and soon you’re going to have to face your literal crossroads.

In one direction is the familiar. Nothing about working for The Agency is easy. There’s a sense of routine to it, though. A sense of generally knowing what your days or weeks or even months will look like. You know how to make coffee in the shitty break room when you’re actually on site (a rarity). You know how to play nice with the other agents. You know how all the tech works. And you’re good at the missions themselves. That’s just to say you don’t have to learn anything new. You’re lucky enough to have a semi-boss that you get along with. There’s a sense of routine to everything from mission briefings to flights to the missions themselves. There’s comfort in knowing you don’t really have to make the decisions. Sure, you have to figure out which course to take on the ground with a mission. But, that usually only means picking option A or B. All of the possible courses of action come in the briefing. You just have to evaluate the factors and figure out which pre-determined option fits best. It’s easy. As fucked up as it might be to admit, you like doing something that you know you’re good at. It’s nice to get praised for constantly succeeding. It’s the easy decision.

And in the other direction…well, it’s the unknown. Being with Wonwoo has been nothing short of the best feeling of your life. The most alive you’ve ever felt. It’s kind of crazy but part of you thinks you may love him. Can see how the whole future plays out, even if it’s not crystal clear. The two of you could start over somewhere new where he doesn’t have to steal art and you don’t have to chase criminals with questionable methods. Both of you have the funds (even if he’s better set up) to start over. Both of you clearly have the skills to disappear into the wind, too. It’s not like your legal name exists anywhere anymore. Very few people even know it, not that you would go back to it.

It’s easy to get lost in the daydream. As much as you love the sun of Buenos Aires, you can’t imagine Wonwoo in a place like that during the actual summer. Everything about him makes you think of somewhere cooler, somewhere that you’re not constantly sweating. That would let you take breaks to sunnier weather. Places where you could soak up the sun while he took refuge under an umbrella, watching you with all the affection in the world. Actually, you can picture visiting a lot of places with him. He would be the perfect travel partner to see all the beautiful corners of the world that you’ve never been able to appreciate. It’s like going somewhere for a business trip. You’re there working, not to appreciate everything around you.

There’s something kind of poetic about being at an airport as an actual crossroads in your life. It’s like you can get on a plane going anywhere. Quite literally, since you’re not sure where Wonwoo’s plane is going. Not that it really matters. If that’s the path you pick, then it’s for him rather than the destination.

The only question left is whether you’re ready to leave your entire life behind. Are you ready to say goodbye to the agency that saved you? Are you ready to cut yourself off from the few people who actually know you and accept you as you are? Can you live without having any closure on that part of your life? Would you feel guilty that Seungcheol would be left with a million questions about what happened to you? Or would it hurt you to know that he would blame himself for your disappearance somehow? Then again, maybe he would know, on some level, that you just finally reached the point of needing to walk away. That’s something you and him have talked about before, in the early hours of the morning after too much to drink. What would you do if you could walk away from this life? What would life after The Agency look like?

With a deep breath, you pick your path and you don’t look back. That’s the only way you know you’ll have the strength in your decision.

i hope you all enjoyed this as much as i enjoyed writing it! please reblog or comment and let me know 💕

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harryslittlefreakk · 10 months ago

Text

my policeman

Summary: Harry is the police officer assigned to your case, though you are inexplicably drawn to one another 🤭 this will be the first instalment of a new series (if you guys like it lol)

Warnings: age gap romance, Harry is approx mid 40s and MC is early-mid 20s 🥰 smut!!

A/n: I hope you enjoy!! I really like this idea & the storyline so far for these two

You can join my taglist here! And my masterlist is here!! Happy reading 🫶🏼

“I need to speak to someone please, I’ve been mugged.”

You were panting, having run the ten minute journey to the police station from the bus stop. Someone had snatched the bulky work bag from your shoulder as you walked, then fled down a side street before you’d even had time to comprehend what had happened. Your natural instincts were to just run, and that’s exactly what you did. You ran until you stumbled through the police station doors, your heart still pounding with adrenaline.

“Styles!” the man behind the desk called out, an outstretched arm directing you to a closed door. You shuffled over, legs jelly after your spontaneous sprint. You weren’t sure whether to go through the doors or wait there, and the officer behind the desk had his back to you. But as you shifted awkwardly, the doors swung open, revealing possibly the hottest police officer you’d ever seen. He was old, older than you’d usually be interested in, but there was something about him. He was stocky and toned, grey streaks peppered through his deep brown curls. He smiled at you and extended his hand. "Officer Styles, but you can call me Harry.” Officer Harry Styles, the world’s sexiest police officer. You followed him down the corridor, into a tiny room with only a desk, a chair and a small sofa. It was cold and clinical, four grey walls lit by the same sort of lights you’d find in hospitals. It made you uneasy, but Harry’s eyes were laced with warmth as he looked over at you. "First of all, are you okay?" he asked, his voice gentle.

You whispered a quiet “yes”, your response barely audible, but Harry caught it. You felt vulnerable now, having been too close to danger and not realising it at the time. You’d lived in London for years, heard so many tales of rape and mugging but never experienced it yourself, or had it happen to someone close to you. You were lucky to only have your work bag taken and be left otherwise untouched, but you couldn’t help feeling shaken by the encounter. “I was mugged,” you told Harry.

“Did they hurt you?”

“No. Just took my bag.”

“M’sorry that happened to you,” he said. There was a slight northern twang to his voice, the kind that suggested he’d been in London long enough to start losing it, but been in the North long enough for the accent to be stubborn. “Did you get a look at them?” he asked, tapping his pen against the sheet of paper in front of him.

“No, they were already running before I turned around.”

“Where did it happen?”

“The bus stop near Florence Gardens, going towards the station.”

“What did they take? Any valuables?”

“My work laptop. And my lunchbox,” you told him, corners of your mouth turning up slightly at the thought of the thief finding your leftover pasta. “They were in my rucksack, I had my phone and keys in my pocket.”

“What does the bag look like?”

“Black, it’s leather. I can show you?”

You pulled up a picture on your phone and handed it to Harry, watching as he wrote down the details.

“Alright, give me 10 minutes to file this, okay? You’ll be okay waiting here?” He handed the phone back to you and stood up as you nodded, then strode toward the door, the glinting badge on his chest catching the light. You’d never had to deal with the police before, and always been a little bit scared of authority figures. But Harry was warm, he made you feel safe despite the circumstances that had brought you to the police station.

It wasn’t long before Harry was back, a thick puffer jacket now covering his torso and a huge tote bag slung over his shoulder. He reached out and gently placed a comforting hand on the back of your seat. “Come on, my shifts over so I’ll walk you home.” You smiled as you followed him out of the room, grateful beyond words for his company.

“Do you not have worse crimes to solve than my stolen lunchbox?” you asked him as you walked, somehow comfortable in his presence. “Not anymore,” he told you. “Been in the police for 25 years now. Did a lot of that but wanted to settle down the last few years, s’better for me like this.”

“Guess it’s nicer for your wife that you’re not out chasing murderers,” you quipped, earning a chuckle from Harry. "Yeah, m’sure she’d appreciate it if she hadn’t divorced me already," he said with a small smile. “I’m sorry,” you told him, glancing over to try to read his face. Truthfully, you were excited by the idea of him being divorced. It didn’t mean he was single, and it definitely didn’t mean he’d be into you, but it was one less hurdle in your mind. "It's alright," he said. "Sometimes things jus’ don't work out, you know?”

“Mm, I know. My flat’s just down here,” you pointed the way to Harry. He walked you all the way to the doorstep, staring up at the building. “It’s not the best area,” he told you. "Be safe, okay? If you need anything, or remember anything, don't hesitate to call," Harry told you, a touch of protectiveness in his tone as he took out his phone. He sent a text to your number so you could save his, then watched as you opened the front door. “Thank you Harry, for everything,” you smiled. “I’m only a call away,” he said, rubbing a hand on your forearm.

Jesus Christ. You collapsed against your front door as you got inside, heart racing from just a gentle touch. You’d get mugged every day if it gave you the chance to be around Harry more. The thought of seeing him again made your head pound, the fear and violation you felt earlier in the evening long forgotten.

Maybe it was a reaction to the weirdness of your evening, maybe it was a way to work through all the emotions you were feeling, but you found yourself reaching for your vibrator as you stepped out of your work clothes. Harry was all you could think about, his hands trailing down your body, his fingers pinching at your nipple, his mouth pressing hot kisses across your abdomen. You could almost feel him hovering over you, so close and yet not close at all. He would be authoritative, demanding you press the vibrator to your clit, his fingers beginning to pump inside of you as you writhed on the bed.

You were moaning into the ghost of his mouth, his nose brushing against yours as your core tightened, a rush of emotions filling you to the brim. It was too much, your toy working at your clit with the idea of Harry’s ringed fingers pounding at your pussy, your free hand gripping onto his loose curls. You were coming faster than you ever had, hips bucking as you screamed out his name.

It was borderline insane. Coming so fast and so heavily for a man you barely knew, crying out his name as if he were here, riding you through your high. You felt almost dirty as you chucked your vibrator to the side, too mentally preoccupied to even shower or eat before climbing into bed. You just wanted to dream of Harry, try to work through your delusions before you had to see him again.

—

Your thoughts of Harry came and went over the next few days. Your manager had suggested you work from home for a few days, your only route home from the office marred by your mugging. The four walls of your apartment felt too small, too closed in even before you had an imaginary Harry following you around. You’d tried to push him out of your mind, desperate to avoid a crush on a man you hardly knew. You did this all the time, it was a symptom of being chronically single. As soon as a man showed kindness towards you, you fell in love. Harbouring a crush on the police officer working on your case was bad news, and yet as you thought about him, his name flashed up on your phone.

“Hey, y/n. How are you?”

“I’m okay, you?”

“Better for hearing your voice.” You could almost hear the smirk pulling at the corners of his mouth. “Listen, do you have time to swing by? Wanted to update you on a few things.”

“I can come now?” you offered. Working from home was slow, and you’d already completed your tasks for the day. So how could you wait any longer to see Harry again?

You looked over yourself in the mirror as you put the phone down, tightening your ponytail and smoothing a hand down the front of your top.

Harry was waiting in the reception area when you arrived at the police station, a big beaming grin sitting pretty between his dimpled cheeks when he saw you. Truthfully, he could have spoken to you over the phone, but he wanted an excuse to see you again. It was silly, childlike even, the way he’d racked his brain for reasons to call or message since he’d dropped you off at home a few days ago. He felt ridiculous, far too giddy over a girl far too young for him, but he couldn’t get you off his mind.

“We think we’ve located your bag,” Harry told you as he ushered you into the same room as before. “Really?” you squeaked. “It’s not 100% yet, but we have had a few more reports of thefts in the area. We’ve tracked down an address, and we’ll be going in this week.”

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” you grinned, throwing your arms around him before your brain could stop you. Harry chuckled, wrapping a strong arm around your shoulders. He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, before freezing. You’d both suddenly remembered where you were, who you were, and yet neither of you wanted to step away.

Harry gently squeezed you before saying, "It's all part of the job,” a small smile on his lips. There was something unspoken in the air as you stepped back, your gaze meeting his. “Sorry,” you muttered. His eyes were soft as he looked at you, reaching out to gently tuck a loose strand of your hair behind your ear.

“You don’t have to apologise,” Harry told you, his lingering touch burning against your skin. You stared at each other wordlessly for a moment, tension heavy in the air, until a familiar call of Harry’s name broke the spell. You stepped further away from him, glancing down at the floor as the professional mask settled back into place on Harry’s face. “Thank you, Harry. I’ll see you later,” you smiled, turning your back on him.

—

You needed to distract yourself, arranging a last minute girls night to take your mind off of Harry. And yet, it was as if the universe was playing a cruel joke on you. The man you were specifically going out to forget was standing on the doorstep of your apartment building, hand poised to buzz your intercom as you opened the door. “Harry-” you started, unable to find any other, better words.

“Come to dinner with me,” he said, gaze trailing up and down your body. You were wearing your ‘good’ jeans, the ones that sucked you in in all the right places yet showcased your curves in all the best ones. You had more makeup on than he’d seen you in before, though your freckles and beauty spots still peeked through. The oversized leather jacket slung over your shoulders obscured the top half of your body, but Harry didn’t need to see any more to know just how good you looked. “Please,” he added, holding up a single red rose.

“Dinner with you,” you repeated, a little stunned by his offer. “Dinner.. with me. Should we say it once more for good luck?” Harry laughed. “Maybe once more,” you smiled, pulling your phone from your back pocket. need to cancel, something came up x you sent quickly to your best friends. “Where are we going?” you asked Harry, eyes locking back onto him as he walked back down the path. “In first, questions later,” he told you, unlocking his car and opening the passenger side door for you.

“You’re acting very murdery for a man of the law,” you laughed, sliding onto the seat. “It was a test, and you failed. Should never get in a strange man’s car,” he joked.

The drive was mostly silent, except for the rhythm of Harry’s fingers tapping against the steering wheel. You were suddenly nervous, mouth dry and heart pounding as you watched the city become a blur. The sun was starting to set overhead as you drove further from home, street lamps and homes beginning to light up around you. Harry glanced over at you, brows furrowed as he tried to read the emotion etched onto your face. “You okay?” he asked, resting a strong hand on your knee.

“Shy,” you smiled weakly. It had only just hit you that you didn’t know Harry at all, couldn’t even think of anything to say to cut through the silence. You wanted the evening to go well, wanted to explore the connection you felt with him. But if you stammered and stuttered all night long, you’d have to go into hiding before a future with Harry even became a possibility.

You watched him as he drove, brows knitted in concentration as he navigated the busy streets. You hadn’t even paid attention to what he was wearing before, and as your eyes wandered over his body, your jaw went slack.

Harry wore a loose white dress shirt that although slightly oversized, seemed to fit him perfectly. He’d left the top few buttons open, allowing glimpses of his toned physique. As he moved his hands around the steering wheel, the material of the shirt shifted, revealing intricate tattoos that adorned his arms and chest. You’d seen a couple on his arms, but the amount that littered the tanned skin of his torso made your heart race. With each tiny movement, his tattoos peeked through the fabric, muscles flexing underneath the inked skin. He was handsome in a way that was new to you, rugged and yet soft.

There was something about his age that drew you to him, his years on you more a challenge than anything. He clearly knew how to act and had no problems going after what he wanted, a world away from the men you knew who were all still stuck in their fratboy mindsets.

“We’re here,” Harry said, resting a gentle hand over yours to pull you from your daydream. He’d pulled up in front of a quaint pub. The bold blue exterior was littered with bright flowers in hanging baskets and window boxes. A crowd of merry customers had spilled out onto the pavement outside, the warm glow from the pub washing over them. “This is so cute,” you told Harry, following him through the open door. “Officer Styles!” a man called out from across the bar. Harry greeted him with a firm handshake, turning his ear to the man’s mouth to hear him over the music. It wasn’t long before he turned back to you, grabbing a hold of your hand to lead you up the stairs. “I did some work for the owner,” he told you, pulling open another door. “Don’t live far from here so I come often now. Good food and good views,” he smirked, stepping out of the way to reveal the scene set up for you.

The balcony was slim, only just wide enough to fit two small tables. One was set up for dining, a bottle of red perched among ice in the middle. The other was covered in candles, wax dripping around a beautiful bouquet in the centre. It was secluded and romantic, the dream setting for your first date with what could be your dream man.

You talked and laughed for what felt like forever, voice hoarse from giggling at Harry’s jokes. The sharing plates he’d ordered sat cold and forgotten in front of you both, almost empty glasses stained pink from the wine.

A hint of a smirk played on Harry's lips as his eyes trailed over yours. “Quickfire round, since I have a feeling you won’t let me kiss you until we know each other better. Family?”

“My brother’s younger, he’s in uni. Parents live by the coast,” you told him, heat rising through your core at the very idea of kissing him.

“My mum lives up north, got an older sister too. Hobbies?”

“I like painting. Don’t do it as much anymore but..” you let your voice trail off.

“But you’re going to paint me?” Harry grinned, turning his back to you and peering seductively over his shoulder. “Draw me like one of your French girls,” he drawled, a mocking glint in his eyes.

“Nuh uh. Got to answer or you’ll never get that kiss.”

“I don’t have hobbies. I like working out and like puzzles,” Harry shrugged.

“Typical old man hobby,” you laughed. Harry chuckled and shook his head. "Well, maybe I am an old soul trapped in a sexy young body," he replied with a playful grin. "Can't complain about that, right?"

You nodded, still amused by his choice of hobbies. "You’re right, I can’t.”

As your conversation continued, you and Harry discovered more and more about each other. Your dreams, fears, and your favourite childhood memories. You laughed and shared stories, the connection between you growing stronger with each passing moment.

“M’not ready to let you go yet,” Harry smiled, looking out over the river. It was almost totally dark now, the last rays of evening sunshine nearly vanished behind the horizon. You smiled back at Harry. “"I'm not ready to go either," you admitted, rolling your bottom lip into your mouth as you looked over him, taking in the beauty of the scene. He was the definition of a silver fox. You’d noticed heads turning as you left the pub, young (and older) women captivated by just a glance of Harry. Being the girl on his arm felt good, even if it was just for the evening.

“Let’s walk,” Harry told you, his fingers intertwining with yours. You strolled down the riverside hand in hand, chatting mindlessly. Harry shared stories of his childhood, his years working for a local bakery before he moved to London and joined the Met.

You felt so much comfort and warmth as you listened to Harry. His stories painted vivid pictures in your mind, a glimpse into his past giving you some understanding of the person he was. As the two of you continued walking, the sound of the flowing river created a soothing backdrop to your conversation. The setting sun was casting a golden glow over your surroundings, and you couldn't help but feel a growing connection with Harry. It was as if time stood still, and the world around you faded away, leaving only the two of you in that moment.

You found yourself opening up to Harry, sharing your own stories. He listened attentively, his eyes filled with genuine interest and understanding. It was refreshing to be with someone who truly cared about getting to know you on a deeper level.

As the evening progressed, the conversation shifted towards more lighthearted topics. Laughter filled the air as Harry recounted some of the funnier people he’d encountered during his career. His animated gestures and contagious laughter made it impossible for you not to join in. There was a boyish charm behind his manly facade, and the more time you spent with Harry, the more you realized how effortlessly he made you feel at ease. There was a natural chemistry between you, a connection that went beyond words. It was a feeling of familiarity, as if you had known each other for years.

As darkness began to envelop you, Harry gently squeezed your hand, bringing your attention back to the present moment. You both paused, eyes trailing over the other’s features under the moonlight. Harry tugged on your arm quickly, pulling you towards the wall. Your heart quickened as his gaze fell to your parted lips, his body gently pressing your back into the brick. The light cast a soft glow on his face, lust etched into every line on his face.

You felt as if you were floating somewhere outside your body as Harry leaned in, his warm breath mingling with yours. His lips brushed against your own, gentle yet filled with an insatiable longing.

You responded eagerly, your hands instinctively finding their way to his waist. The kiss deepened, becoming a dance of lust and unspoken desires. Harry's lips moved against yours with a hunger that matched your own, his hands roaming your body. It had been a long time since a kiss had ignited a fire within your core, and yet you were burning brighter with every touch.

The taste of him was intoxicating, warm wine, sweetness and desire on his tongue leaving you breathless. He pressed you further into the wall, your bodies molding together perfectly as if they were made to be intertwined.

It had started to rain at some point, though you were too consumed by the raw passion that existed between you to notice the soft raindrops running down your skin. All you could focus on was Harry’s tongue licking into your mouth, a silent promise of the yearning and desire that he felt for you.

He pulled your bottom lip into his mouth before you both pulled away, breathless and panting. The world slowly came back into focus, but the sight of Harry before you nearly made your heart stop. The rain had soaked through his shirt, the thin material now translucent and dipping and weaving over his toned abdomen. His curls were slick against his forehead, raindrops lingering on the end of his eyelashes. His jaw was tense as he looked over your face, one hand gently grazing your waist. He was mesmerising, powerful and yet vulnerable as he stood soaked through in front of you.

You reached out with a gentle hand, pushing the wet curls from his face. But just as your swollen lips parted to speak, the heavens opened above you. It was as if someone had thrown a bucket of water over you and Harry, raindrops pelting you from every angle. You looked at each other in shock, a laugh tumbling past your lips.

Harry grabbed a hold of your hand and ran, the sound of your footsteps slapping against puddles breaking the silence of the now empty streets. You were barely able to hold yourself upright from laughter, falling into Harry’s body as your legs carried you closer to the car. His grip tightened on your wrist, guiding you through the dark paths.

As you reached the car, Harry fumbled with the keys, his hands shaking from the sudden cold. You stood beside him, shivers of adrenaline running through you. The rain smacked against the roof of the car as Harry unlocked it, pulling open the door for you. Even in the pouring rain, he was still a gentleman. You slid in quickly, the sudden warmth fogging up the windows.

You sat in silence for a moment, eyes trailing over each other as you caught your breath. A smile played on Harry’s lips as he looked at you, his hand coming up to brush your sodden hair from your face.

—

There was no way you could sleep. You’d been tossing and turning for at least an hour, the ache in your core too much to sleep on. All you could do was replay the evening in your mind, wondering exactly how you ended up alone in Harry’s bed.

“Here,” Harry handed you one of his T-shirts and some pyjama bottoms. “Shower’s through there, get yourself warmed up.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead as you headed into the bathroom, a tiny sigh of disappointment slipping past your lips. You were desperate for him to join you in the shower, craving more of his touch. A night of stolen glances and gentle touches had you burning up even before the kiss, but after seeing what Harry’s mouth was capable of, you were dying for more of him.

As the water washed over you, all you could think about was Harry’s lips on yours. The hunger in his eyes before he kissed you, the taste of red wine on his tongue.

—

“Would you not get in trouble for this?” you asked Harry, hands wrapped tightly around the hot chocolate he’d handed you. “Maybe. But once we have your stuff back, the case is over. They can’t say anything then,” he shrugged, turning to lean against the kitchen counter. He got more handsome every time you looked at him, as if that were even possible. Now, standing there with his old man plaid pyjama pants and a T-shirt tight against his muscular frame, you were left pressing your thighs together to keep the heat in. The anticipation was almost too much to bear, adrenaline coursing through your veins.

“Can’t sleep either, huh?” Harry smiled from the sofa. You almost jumped out of your skin at his voice, having tried your hardest to creep silently into the kitchen. He looked adorable, tucked under a thick blanket with his long legs squashed up at the end of the sofa. “Just needed water,” you told him, grabbing an empty cup from the counter.

“Why don’t you want to share a bed with me?” you suddenly burst out, turning on your heel to face him. You weren’t going to beg, didn’t want to whine, but the words came out before you could stop yourself. Harry chuckled, padding over to join you by the sink. He pushed a strand of hair out of your face, cupping your cheek with his free hand. Pressing a gentle kiss to your lips, he whispered, “come on,” his voice low and husky.

You followed Harry out of the kitchen and back up the stairs, watching as he sat down on the edge of the bed. He patted his legs, signalling for you to join him. You straddled his thick thighs, eyes fixed on his as he looked over your body. In only his t-shirt and your tiny panties, you’d never looked more delicious to him. “I didn’t share a bed with you because I try not to sleep with women on the first date,” he told you, slipping a hand under your t-shirt before holding your waist with a firm grip. “And I wouldn’t be able to resist if I were in bed with you.” His eyes came to rest on yours, his pupils blown under thick eyelashes. “You don’t have to resist, Harry,” you replied, your voice small, barely slipping out past your heart pounding in your throat. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, one hand toying with the curls at the nape of his neck. His hand moved further up your body, thumb running over your nipple.

“Y’so beautiful,” Harry cooed, pulling your t-shirt off in one quick movement. He sat back for a second, an arrogant smirk pulling at the corners of his lips as he gazed over you. Hunger was written all over his face, the intensity of his gaze sending a shiver down your spine.

He leaned in, his lips soft as they brushed against yours. Gentle, yet fuelled by desire. His tongue moved around yours, a delicate dance that left you breathless against his mouth.

Harry’s hands roamed your exposed skin, tracing patterns of heat and need. His touch was electric, insatiable as he gripped and groped at every bit of skin he could reach. He moved with purpose, tracing the curves and contours of your upper body. Every touch, every stroke, sent waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

His lips left yours, trailing a path of fire down your throat, a trail of goosebumps left in their wake. His breath was hot against your skin, his lips smooth as he suckled and nibbled at the sensitive flesh.

You shifted slightly on his lap, his hard cock nudging at your folds through his pyjama pants. The room was filled with a symphony of whispered moans and ragged breaths as you rubbed yourself on him, the soft scratch of Harry’s pyjamas between your thighs only adding to your desire. You needed him in a way that transcended reality, a hunger that went beyond the physical. Your yearning was deep in your soul as Harry’s hands continued to explore you, his touch more than just a physical sensation. It was a language of its own, speaking unbridled passion.

He wrapped an arm under your hips, lifting you up just enough to slip his pyjamas down his thighs. His cock sprang up between the two of you, grazing your entrance. You whimpered as his tip touched you, your head falling onto Harry’s shoulder. He stroked a hand down his shaft, hissing as his thumb brushed over the angry tip. He started to move you, not expecting you to want to ride him, but you wrapped a firm hand around his neck and shook your head softly, pulling your face from his shoulder to meet his eyes. “Like this, Harry,” you whispered, shifting in his grip until his head lined up with your folds. You pulled your panties to the side, your juices warm against his head.

“You’re on birth control?” he asked, voice strangled as he resisted the urge to push into you. You nodded, sinking down slowly until his thick cock was deep inside of you, splitting your walls wide open. A deep cry fell from your lips as you stilled, his shaft throbbing as it settled into you.

“So fuckin’ tight, kitten,” he drawled, lips planting hungry kisses along your jawline. His eyes were fixed on the mirror behind you, watching his hand grip onto the curve of your ass. His free hand slid under you, easing you up ever so slightly. You could feel him everywhere, in your stomach and in your throat as he pushed deeper into you. Your walls were threatening to burst around his shaft, the size of his cock scratching an itch you never knew you’d had. It was pure ecstasy.

“Harry,” you whined, gripping him tighter as you pushed your hips upwards, starting to find your rhythm. The burn was white-hot in your core, tingles of pleasure spreading through your body as you bounced up and down on his lap. Your nails raked down his back as he fucked into you, deep whines and moans being pulled from your mouth every time Harry’s cock hit your sweet spot. His strong arm was guiding your hips up and down, his free hand still exploring your body as he pressed kisses along your throat. You still wanted more of each other, still searching each other’s bodies as if you had been starved of touch for years.

You were as close as you could be to him, your bodies melding together with every push of his hips. Your clit was rubbing against the fabric of your panties with every movement, every slap of your cheeks against his groin sending you further into your spiral.

“You’re mine, all mine, huh?” Harry mewled against your skin, his lips moving down to find your nipple. He sucked and licked around the bud, his lips swollen and hot. “All yours,” you whined, your orgasm creeping up on you after Harry’s dominant ownership. He held you tightly, your trembling legs heavy on his arm despite how light you felt. You were sure you could take flight in that moment, pleasure coursing through you with every buck of his hips. You threw your head onto his shoulder as you came, a strangled cry pushing past your dry lips.

Your walls tightened around his cock, his lips pressing a tiny moan into your skin. He flipped you over once your breathing slowed, the new angle pushing his cock deeper into you. Harry splayed a hand across your stomach, feeling where he was fucking into you. His eyes were dark as he looked down at you, watching the way your tits bounced with every rock of his hips. His thrusts started to get sloppier, his hips knocking into you harder as he came close to his high. You could feel him throbbing inside of you as he panted, jaw slack as he pulled out of you quickly. One hand stroked the length of his cock as he came, his come splashing violently all over your chest. You released the hand gripping his shoulder to swipe a finger through the puddle, licking it from your fingertip hungrily. “So fuckin’ perfect,” he drawled, chest heaving as he watched you.

You were more content in that moment than you’d ever been, silently thanking whoever had decided to steal your bag. If it was all an insane plan to get you here, covered in Harry’s come, you’d thank them every day for the rest of your life.

taglist: @sleutherclaw @slutforcoffein @harrysolaf @opheliaofficial07 @dragonslayersupremacy @nikkisimps @michellekstyles @im-an-overthinker @fangirl7060 @indierockgirrl @palmettogal508 @thereunion1d @hannah9921 @harryshotpocket @daphnesutton @tenaciousperfectionunknown @thegrapejuiceblues1982 @mema10 @annageeeezzzz @cicicavill7 @drewsephrry @tswiftsgf @ashleighsss @bikestyles @he6rtshaker @prettygurl-2009 @softestqueeen @jerseygirlinca @teammom4 @chesthairrry @golden-hoax @lilfreakjez @swag13r @cursingatdaylight @s-h-e-l-b-e-e

#harry edward styles #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fic #harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x y/n #harry styles masterlist #harryslittlefreakk

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whitegoldtower · 4 months ago

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My masterlist of Skyrim takes:

Both the Imperials and Stormcloaks can eat my ass.

Isran is a piece of shit

I don’t like Brynjolf.

Ancano, Vingalmo, Ondolemar, Garan Marethi, Teldryn Sero and Arch-Curate Vyrthur are the hottest male NPCs.

The companions are a flop.

Ysgramor and Wuuthrad suck.

Muiri’s unsolicited affections gave me the ick

Morthal is my favourite area.

The Ravencrone and Blackbriar women could get it any day.

I’d fuck a hagraven out of curiosity.

Frostbite spiders are adorable

I love Cicero’s voice.

Nazeem is just funny. So are the girls at Radiant Raiment. They all served cunt.

The Reach is for the Forsworn.

In every playthrough I make sure to beat the shit out of Rolff Stone-Fist and scare the fuck out of Mikael.

Mage and double dagger runs are the best.

Destruction and Conjuration are lazy.

My favourite discreet way to assassinate annoying NPCs is to reverse pickpocket poisons and poisoned apples into their inventories, sit back and watch. Alternatively, I like casting frenzy / reverse pickpocketing frenzy potions into their inventories and watching chaos unfold.

I have to purposely paralyse myself at least once in every playthrough, whether through licking Netch Jelly or chewing Corkbulb Root.

Idgrod Ravencrone is the best jarl.

Erikur deserves a slow death.

Delphine’s also a piece of shit.

Astrid instantly pissed me off.

I love just collecting and reading all the books.

The carriage driver Bjorlam (Whiterun) is SO HOT and for absolutely no reason whatsoever. Who made him so fine and why??

Ondolemar is a sweet baby. Even if you refuse to get the amulet for him, he doesn’t get pissy with you (unlike a certain touchy redheaded thief in Riften).

Some people get annoyed with Faendal showing up if you marry Camilla Valerius. I say two for the price of one, in this household we share. How can you be mad at getting a free bosmer femboy? A boyfriend of my wife’s is a boyfriend of mine.

(Will add more soon. If you want me to elaborate on any of these points, just drop an ask.)

#tesblr #skyrim #skyrim oc #thalmor #altmer #ancano #college of winterhold #ondolemar #volkihar vampire

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catcze · 1 year ago

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Reblogs are greatly appreciated !!

Today is one of the few days that you get into bed later than Wriothesley does. You figure there's been no numbers for him to run, no documents that require the focus that can only be found in the dead silence of the evening, judging by how Wriothesley is already curled up in bed with your pillow hugged to his chest by the time you arrive back home.

You try to be stealthy as you shuck off today's clothing and swap it for more comfortable sleepwear. You keep your steps light, your touches soft— you refuse to cut him out of such peaceful sleep. But to your horror, the darkness of the room makes it hard to see, an against your will a hanger in the closet comes down with a clatter that echoes far louder than it should at such a late hour.

There's a near-audible inhale, then— "Mon amour," murmurs Wriothesley, voice attractively raspy from sleep. "Is that you?"

You sigh, disappointed in yourself. "Yes, it's me." You try to keep the pout from your voice, but the room soon lights up from the bedside lamp and no doubt Wriothesley can see the dismayed look on your face. Though, to be fair, you're also treated to the endearing sight of him seated up with a blanket draped over his chest, trying to rub the sleep out of his eyes. It's adorable.

"What's up?" He asks, trying not to yawn. "Why're you walking around like you're a thief on a mission or something?"

You huff. "I was trying not to wake you up," you grumble, not looking at him but not missing the wide grin that spreads across his face, either.

"How sweet of you," Wriothesley says, voice a low murmur. He speaks in such a way that it has you swallowing and trying to ignore the skip of your heart. If you were any weaker, you think your knees may have turned to jelly.

"Yeah, well..." you clear your throat. "Some effort that turned out to be."

"Still sweet, even if it didn't turn out how you thought it would." He says, but his sentence is punctuated by a yawn. It's contagious— you're suddenly aware of how tired you are yourself.

"Okay enough chitchat, get in here." Wriothesley beckons you with a hand. When you roll your eyes at his impatience and approach, his hand quickly grabs ahold of yours and practically tugs you into the mess of pillows and blankets. He's already wrapping his blanket (your blanket, actually) around you too, smothering your complaints with a kiss on the forehead and by tucking his head into the crook of your neck. You can feel his pleased little smile as he presses himself even closer, curling around you like a puppy.

You sigh, heart practically aching for how much you love him— for how sweet you want to be for him, and for how sweet he is to you in turn. Your arms wrap around his shoulders, keeping him so close that you think he might just be able to hear the skip of your heart, and your legs tangle together.

You stretch a little to reach the bedside lamp, straining a little in this position but not willing to extract yourself now.

“Sweetheart,” Wriothesley murmurs sleepily into your neck, pressing a drowsy kiss to the skin. “Mon amour. Good night. I love you”

You rake your free hand through his hair, pulling a deep sigh from him. He's half-asleep already, his breaths coming out more and more even by the second.

"Good night, Wrio." It's whispered directly into his ear, and a kiss is pressed to his temple. "I love you too."

The light turns off and you're left to fall asleep in the dark, warm and content in your lover's embrace.

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satocidal · 1 year ago

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𓂂 ˚ ☆ ꙳ * ࣭ 𓂂 ˚ ☆ ꙳ * ࣭ “Jealousy Jealousy” — Geto Suguru

Synopsis:- He dislikes you and you dislike him, rather simple an ordeal—except it’s not. Not when you’ve got one bed to share and your rival is Jealous for your attention—not when he can’t get enough of hearing your moans.

— word count:- 7.7k words ||Masterlist||

— A/n:- I wouldn’t consider myself a writer if I didn’t write a “rivals to lovers x one bed” trope so here it is. Poor jelly Suguru who’s also a little nasty but we like em like that. Au! Where Suguru doesn’t leave btw. Also smut starts after a long while💀

— Tw:- !Porn with Plot!MDNI!AFAB! Reader x Geto Suguru; perverted suguru!+perverted ex(?) hints at masturbation (both male and female); cursing (a lot of it); use of sex toys; geto is a thief (lmao); geto calls reader “doll”; spanking; dom! Geto to sub! Geto and then back to dom! Geto; oral (m and f receiving); pussy spanking; implied blackmailing

Kyoto and Tokyo.

Housing the two sister schools, they also housed three of the strongest sorcerers. Satoru Gojo, Suguru Geto and you—and irony lay bare that two of you did not like each other.

At all.

Insufferable he’d call you and exasperating you’d bounce back. And that was all their was to it—for the longest time and that’s what you two showed as well.

An eye roll here and a prodding middle finger there, you couldn’t even remember a time when you’d actually said “hi,” to him—considering your first meet was at the Goodwill event during a round.

So your annoyance was all too understandable when you walked into Principal Yaga’s room to find him lounging on the couch—ears stuffed with his earphones listening to shit you never liked.

“Yes sir?” You prompted, taking a seat across the man while Suguru didn’t even do so much as look at you.

Idiot.

“There’s a mission,” his eyes closed in on yours, “before you begin, don’t,” he was quick to add—“He’s already agreed to it and it has been decided that you two are the best suited for it. I will take no further questions.”

You find yourself raising a brow—no further questions? And he obliged?

“Why?” You asked regardless—“there are perhaps a hundred better pairs than us—why?”

“Your grade, your promotion and his to special grades depends on it,” the old man answered quietly, all too aware that his piercing gaze worked much better to shut you down than his words—“Now, any and every arrangement has been made. I just need you two to leave by tomorrow morning,”

Tomorrow morning? You could feel the gears in your brain turning fast—you would’ve asked more questions too, had the silly little Ijichi not dropped by, nervous and clammy, “Sir?” He’d called out—“You’re needed in the grounds…” voice timid, thoughts perhaps more so but nothing compared to your form left alone with Suguru Geto.

A silence.

Long silence.

“Why did you say yes?” You let out finally, frustrated to have that question knaw at your mind so long— only to be answered by another silence. Of course, he would play you just about now of all times.

You found yourself gritting your teeth— feet moved up close, his eyes staring at you all the same— “well?” You questioned again.

An eye roll passed, a sigh escaped, “Don’t go about getting ideas princess- I’m not keen of doing it with you but a promotion is promotion nonetheless. You should be glad you’ve got me helping you around,”

“Excuse you?” Your words very quick—sharp, “you’ll help me around?” You barked out a chuckle, “Don’t you go around being the princess with ideas Geto—much rather be helped by pigs than you,”

“Because pigs are the ones saving your ass every mission?” He quirked a brow—“Implication being you’re equable to pigs?” You smirked.

Your smirk only widened as he exhaled sharply, “Listen,” he began, “I want that promotion and so do you. The least we can do, for this one time is help each other. It’s a mutual goal, don’t fuck this up,”

You stared at him.

A brow raised, thoughts ran quick as you scanned his face—annoyance settling deep inside for his too stood sharp—“Fine,” you muttered, “For the mutual goal it is.” You heard him sigh—in relief? Mayhaps.

It was his turn to smirk now, “My my, she’s actually thinking this time—miraculous—”

“—Shut up,” you interrupted his words, “What exactly is the mission?”

He gazed at you quietly, “Hm, well, simple really. Someone like you—”

“—what is it?”

“Information extraction, and a side thing for this local deity who’s apparently a special grade. That’s theoretically all,” he paused, frowning, “it’ll take efforts,”

Your eyes narrowed up at him— “Don’t worry—I’ll figure it out.” He mumbled to nobody in particular.

You found yourself scrunching your face up at him, “Does it turn you on or something? To act like you’re the best?”

“I am,” he grinned,

“At being an idiot,” you added—“and it turns you on at least,” a wink he passed with that—your gag followed next.

What Suguru wanted, Suguru got.

Never a question about, never an objection either—you should’ve known.

“Let’s just call it a night Geto,” your voice bleak, tired—“So what if it’s shady? I know the owner,”

His eyes trained themselves upon you carefully, “It’s a fucking brothel y/n,” he paused, “and I know it’s well past 12 and you’re tired but pull yourself up a bit—”

“—I can even land us a discount,” whiny, your brows furrowed you pouted.

A grumble and a sharp exhale- Suguru didn’t do so much as grunt as he tossed you over he shoulder- silencing your yelp as he shushed you, “I’ll carry you- lead the way,” evident with his voice, he was tired and so were you.

You grinned and squealed internally, softly whispering directions in his ears as he lead the way through the foreign state.

You watched, and watched—eyes wandering onto his bun- the one he’d hurriedly made to help the heat, onto his fingers which held you close—grip tight to make sure you wouldn’t fall—it was embarrassing sincerely to be paraded around such but maybe, just maybe, with him, you liked it.

“Where the fuck is it?” A grunt- you smiled bashfully- “Think we walked past it some 5 blocks ago—” a giggle fell off your lips, his fingers pinched your sides- never playfully.

“The fuck are you-” an eye roll, an inhale, “you know what? Amazing,” and just with that he jogged back- the path retraced wher you came from, the shy pointing from the kids once again.

Five extra minutes you cause him, searching for the hotel- or brothel as Suguru deemed it—“Is this it?” Both your eyes watching the multi-story building in front of you.

It wasn’t half as bad as you’d thought it’d be—pretty decent, Suguru realised.

“You’ve called the owner?”

Before a ‘yeah’ could fall off your lips—clammy fingers gripped your waist—“Y/n!” A voice boomed, the owner- an old ex of yours.

Face flushed you faced him, “Oh hey,” you mumbled hesitantly, “Long time Hm?”

The man in front of you only smiled wide—a creep, Suguru muttered under his breath—sliding a firm handshake for the sake of formality.

Your ex chuckled- unsettling, “And this is your new man huh?” Your face flushed- Suguru’s did too— but he held his own—eyes narrowing at his words.

You however, chuckled nervously—and when you’d told Suguru you knew the owner, he thought, he never should’ve listened to you.

“Not uh…” you looked down, “not boy-friend—just uh, just—” you move to face him, a silent plea for help—“Colleagues,” he nodded.

“Just colleagues, yeah,” a nod you passed- relieved just a little.

The second guy only ever raised his brows, “Sure,” he smirked—“Come inside,” he ushered- hand, suguru noticed, too close on your back.

“Don’t tell me,” His face hidden behind his palm he spoke, “You said you knew him,”

“I do!” You prompted, helplessness evident in your voice—“He’s forcing you to fuck him,” Suguru’s expression a deadpan.

Your shoulders dropped-“He’s not…forcing me,” you bit your lip—“The only other option is us sleeping together geto,”

His eyes widened incredulously, “And that’s what you should choose—far more safe,”

You stared—of course you couldn’t sleep next to Suguru—not when—just no.

He sighed—“Really are an idiot,” you groaned internally- for the first time, agreeing with him, “Be glad I’m literally next door—call me at any moment that pervert-”

“-Geto!”

He shrugged—a fact was a fact nevertheless.

And now you lay awake, still, motionless in the cramped bed—so close.

So close the man’s body lay, the one you used to know all so well—the one which disgusted you now.

“Y/n,” he called for the nth time—your mind getting all too hazy to answer—fuck was that his hand on your thigh?

Mind a mess, eyes barely open and jaw slack- you got up, not a word—none at all as you pushed your way through the room.

A knock—and then two more.

He was fast to open the door, a glass of wine in hand, brows raised in amusement—“And I was correct?”

Rage all over you, a hand pushed him away—“Shut up,” his brows only ever raised higher.

“Bother me with a drink?” It didn’t sit as much of a question — a glass poured for you all too soon as you settled on his couch.

“Thanks,” you mumbled, grabbing it with both hands, fingers you found to be shivering a little too much.

Eyes narrowed, he watched you, taking a seat beside you, “Pray tell,” he began, “Did he say something? A fight between the lovers?”

A hint of jealousy did you catch? No- of course not.

You played with your silence, and his mind—just guilty eyes meeting his, as you sipped.

“Don’t tell me,” he whispered and you pin point a sudden anger inside—“Geto,” you mumbled, “it’s fine,” you but your lip.

Suguru’s brows furrowed, it most definitely wasn’t, surely you knew that—right?

A sigh left your lips—“Sit down please,” your fingers tapped the place beside you. He nodded simply- taking a seat beside you quietly, closer to how he usually would.

Another sip—“will you just sit here or…” his words were quiet, an initiative to not make you uncomfortable, more than you already were.

“This was the reason we uh,” you paused, eyes boring into the ply wood, “back when we broke up you know,”

Another nod- nothing to offer and when you didn’t say anything else, he tilted his head, “That’s it?” You snorted.

“I’m sorry it wasn’t a 3 hour documentary,”

“Thank everyone it isn’t, I was afraid I’d have to hug and comfort you and all,”

“Disgusting,” and you both chuckled—settling into your seats. Maybe someday you’d open up more onto your ex to Suguru, something in his eyes told you that you could. But as of now, just sipping on the off-brand wine seemed alright.

In a momentary silence you two sat in, nothing too comfortable but nothing otherwise either—until a moan was heard.

Your eyes snapped to him and his to you—a bewildered “What?” Spilling from both.

You’d have asked ‘did you just moan’ had the series of moans and grunts not continued and instantly, all too clear it was.

You see, the brothel had walls paper thin—pitiable were the customers of course—and this specific night, the both of you.

“Isn’t it your room?” Suguru questioned—a chuckle included, “What the hell,” you responded back- disgust prominent on your expressions.

Another chuckle, and another until the both of you sat there giggling all together- “If that’s how he fucked you, i am very sorry,” he grinned, “no wonder you used to be so frustrated all the damn time,”

Your jaw fell first, “Shut up?” You laughed, “Was not frustrated at all,”

“Nu uh doll, pent up sexual frustration is very real—I’ve seen it in Yaga and Gakuganji-”

“-Don’t you dare compare me to him,” your voice was shrill- now above the grunts in the room beside yours—shriller than the pathetic moans your ex was paying the girl to make.

And just so, two hours the two of you spent together- shy glances and touches shyer still- but enjoyable nonetheless.

It wasn’t the first night you’d drunk together, no, and such nights were always different—the grimaces that Suguru and you wore around each other during the day were always thrown away—smiles and grins, hidden glances and soft touches—nothing more, nothing less.

It was true that you guys barely ever talked when drunk—but it was all too obvious. But tragedy lay in the way you would simply forget, you would too and he would just the same. The nights were spent flamboyant, silly flirts and sillier jokes—all means to just adore each other As to what Satoru would call it.

Shoko on the other hand called it your idiocy, the sheer annoyance masked her expressions everytime she’d watch Suguru and you tumble around each other the next morning—as if the night before never happened.

Two hours spent laughing— every once a while Suguru would gaze at you, you’d do the same. It wasn’t ever weird, no.

If respectful could be the word to define any sort of staring, that would be how you did it.

Were curses and insults only thing to befall both your conscious mind and lips for each other? Yes. Would you two actually bare your life for each other? Satoru and Shoko had always guessed a definite yes.

And just so, flitting eyes captured between his, soon jumped to his clock—“It’s 12 already,” you mused, his eyes never leaving your face—“I should head back,”

“To that pervert?” He shot instantly, “Had he been good at sex I’d understand but he’s toxic, perverted and finished in 5 minutes—bet he didn’t even get the whore to cum,”

A drunk gasp escaped you as you smacked his thigh laughing—“You’re so drunk,” you mumbled, head lolling to the side, only to end up on his shoulder—it fit perfectly.

His eyes gazed down at you, “You’re drunk too- don’t go to him. Sleep here tonight,” and had you been conscious you’d certainly have fought the idea- ‘I can defend myself’ you’d have retaliated, which you of course could’ve but not like this. Not in your drunk state.

For the saying goes all too true, drunken words are sober thoughts.

So you nodded pliantly, head resting on his shoulder still, you nodded while he watched.

So close- just a mere inches and you could—just a little more booze and perhaps.

He noticed a lot in this position, your tinted lips—the warmness of your breath and body—your messy hair and insignificant attempts to not stare at his lips—he found you adorable.

“C’mere,” he called as he slowly got up- careful to not cause you discomfort, “you can sleep on the bed,”

“And you?”

A side-shrug he passed, “I’d be no better a pervert if I crept in beside you, you know,”

“It’s your bed,” subtle desperation- his drunk mind couldn’t catch —“I’ll be fine,” and just sometimes you had to curse the gentlemen to be all so gentle.

“Night,” you muttered as a yawn went past you- eyes following his form, tidying up his room to sleep on the couch you two just sat on—“G’night idiot,” he muttered back.

And in your sleep you wouldn’t realise of the little hurt he lay down with—choosing that scum over Suguru? Thoughts such replayed in his mind over and over; he was simply aching, for your touch and feel—drunk words were a sober man’s thoughts but what of the drunk thoughts never spoken aloud?

The morning came by fast- rays bright enough to break off your slumber, you let a yawn pass by.

Usually, a surprise would’ve caught you, to find yourself in his bed but somehow- just for once, last night didn’t lay forgotten — last night’s memory embedded in the corners of the room with empty bottles lying around—suguru’s short tossed on the couch as you heard the hum of a shower.

Unsure of the prospects, you lay just there- enveloped in the certain warmth of the duvet- until the water stopped.

The door opened swift, and to mock the gravity of situation, you close your eyes in the pretence of sleep—and you were partially glad you did for soon enough the soft thud of a towel falling entered your ears—naked Suguru stood, the view shielded only by your eyelids—embarrassment yours grew.

And in that moment, you fought hard to not open your eyes- the scent of his body wash all too inviting—citrus? You made a not to tease him on that later.

“You can stop pretending, I’m decent now,” your face grew warmer—you maintained your silence.

An annoyed exhale he let out—“When I call you dumb, instances like these are exactly what I’m referring to doll,”

You scoffed- “For someone who has the audacity to walk in like that, butt-naked, you shouldn’t talk at all,” your act let go just a second after his words.

You got up from the bed—yawning and stretching, Suguru’s eyes trailed up your form as your loose shirt lifted slightly along your hands—“The water’s warm right now- might as well go shower,”

You scrunched your face, “In your shower?” Before you could add further argument, “Your other option is simply that fucker,” and you knew he’d won the argument again.

“My clothes aren’t here,” a last resort you had and you grabbed on it desperately- he tossed you a clean towel, and one of his shirts—“You can wear these inside, I’ll just go grab your luggage right now,”

You rolled your eyes- he was relentless, stubborn entirely too much and you shook your head, having no option but to comply.

Suguru was quick—all too quiet as he slipped into the room beside, a musky scent heavy in the room.

In bleak darkness he reached out his hand, to pick up what he assumed to be your luggage—lips turning to gag instantly when his fingers felt something slimy on it. Each and every plan to annoy your ex left his mind quick as a disgusted suguru quickly picked up the bag beside the mess he’d touched already- rushing outside, back into his room.

A sigh left his lips—disgust painted over his face as he wiped his fingers with a napkin—the other hand settling down your bag—oddly heavy, and prodded out at certain angles, his interest was piqued.

Curiosity, he blamed it upon- focused fingers reaching out to zip open your bag- he knew it was wrong but then…something told him, deep down, you wouldn’t mind.

He heard the water falling come to a stop- he’d be quick anyways, hefty fingers reaching inside your bag—suguru felt so bad but a smile guilty adorned him all the same, especially when his fingers came in contact with the silky fabric of your panties—red? he grinned.

Fingers prodded deeper still, products of your daily use coming in his hand until finally he found it—aha! His grin widened, fingers slowly pulling out the little toy in hand.

And shame would befall you all too deep for in his hands was your pink little vibrator—he chuckled—how pathetic, and on a mission? All the more. Suguru’s thoughts raced, faster than ever—dirty, he felt in the best way possible until a sudden voice managed to creep to his ears.

A moan- again, different from last night—the source being all too different too.

From the bathroom he realised, face contorting to one of amusement as he thanked this time, the brother for having walls paper thin.

And as his fingers stuffed your items back in—pocketing the vibrator and leaving a single note in your bag, to be found hours later. Just so he was done—material worth stealing in his pocket and ears pressed against the door as he listened intently, finally the a moan of his name falling from your lips.

Thus he found, it truly was nothing more than that sweet little cry of his name from you that made him all so hard every argument, with your face so close to his- flushed red with annoyance—it was amusing really, of how you threatened to kick his ass while all he could think about in moments such was to pin you hard against the wall and pound yours.

Your fingers moved onto close the shower- assuming the thud of the door to be a sign of suguru leaving—a sigh escaped you as you propped yourself down into the bathtub.

Your fingers worked quick—you had to be, for Suguru could be back whenever and the last thing you wanted was for him to hear you such—and you let your head fall back- fingers quick to gather the slick around your slit.

It was simply desperate, you supposed, the way the thought of seeing him naked got you all so worked up—his scent and the prospect of wearing his shirt.

But a mind so restless could only be helped so much—the inkling of him leaving the room had your legs spreading instantly, lips bitten down to control the moans.

Pathetic, you called yourself—getting off of your rival—off him, of the way he carried you the day before, hiked over his shoulder—pathetic.

More pathetic were the moans and slight groans you found yourself unable to suppress, fingers pumping in and out at a steady pace—your clit glistening with no attention as you imagined him teasing you.

A gasp escaped your lips—eyes widening at the moment as you imagined him between your thighs—he’d mark your inner thighs with kisses you knew, leave you begging for him too.

“Fu-uck,” you muttered, the pressure rising up—“m’close,” you mumbled to nobody in particular and amusing was the fact that you’d left your clit untouched as you knew Suguru would too.

Desperate sighs and moans you let go—trust in the assumption that he wasn’t back yet- he couldn’t be.

“Please,” you begged—perhaps to yourself for more stimulation—“pleasepleaseplease,” your voice a whisper as a finger you thrusted and pulled out sharp—finally a finger rolling slowly around your clit.

“Fuck,” you drew out, as your moans fought to become louder—“fuck m’lose su’” your eyes widened again, mouth turned o-shaped as the pleasure you chased finally arrived.

“Mm!!” You moaned and finally—“Fuck please Suguru!” Let out as you came on your fingers-not loud, just enough to tip him over as well as he sat listening outside your door.

Your fingers looked for it in a frenzy—you were sure you packed it—“Ready?” You head Suguru call out.

“Wait!” You shouted back—“I can’t find something,” Suguru grinned, “A brain is it?” Your door opened just as that, a shit-eating grin on his face.

“Look for it later,” he mused—eyes watching your hands buried in your bag, total concentration tossed into it—sweet.

“The mission ain’t waiting for your pleasure-satisfaction, I mean,” he chuckled- your eyes narrowed.

“Whatever,” you grumbled under your breath—walking outside, basking in the warm afternoon warmth and your ex’s gaze.

“He’ll join us,” you whispered—“wouldn’t let me leave without well, threatening to kick us out,”

Suguru scratched his neck—nerves racking and a thought constant to as why he hadn’t punched your ex yet.

“Sure,” Suguru sighed—to your surprise, “we’ve to be in a club anyways, gonna maintain our distance from trash,” you chuckled beside him—a slight twinkle in the way you looked at him.

You walked ahead of the two boys—aware of the unmoving gaze on your form—a small black skirt—a smirk you held, hungry eyes—theirs.

“How far is it?” You made sure to question your Ex, not once did your body tilt towards Suguru on the slightest—cruel.

“Just about here,” he replied, providing no help, but you smiled nevertheless—“Thanks babe,” you giggled.

Suguru merely watched.

And he watched the entire evening—potently, as you did the exact opposite of his entire plan. He watched as you swayed your hips—with the target himself.

He watched as you grinned and giggled, letting your ex roam his hands onto your ass—he wanted to punch him right there, but he watched.

He watched as you watched him, ass grinding back into your ex, a grin on your face—and he watched as you downed three shots right after your bit of the mission was done and he watched as you draped yourself around your ex.

And as the fact lay, You weren’t really sure to what you were doing, or why.

Suguru Geto had never meant anything exactly, more than a rival of course- and a drinking buddy- and the person you admired- and a classmate you wouldn’t want to lose- and yes. Nothing more than all that, ever. So the sudden need to spite him? It was new- exhilarating, some may say.

So you wove the game- an open invitation shoved into his face; Never the watcher however, he finally moved, jaw tightened and annoyance all so present on his face.

And this time, you watched- you watched as he made sure to drug the target all too well, maintaining eye contact as he let the girls sway around him too—you watched as he slid his hands into the girl’s skirt, the one he danced with—planting a soft kiss on her neck. And you watched simply, wondering how that could’ve felt.

But a game only remained one so long until you stepped it up a notch- turning around to kiss your ex, placing deliberately, his hand on your ass- a tease.

“Get away,” he spoke through gritted teeth, a shove to your drunk boyfriend’s shoulder.

“Hey!” You yelped—“The hell?” Your eyes wide—as if innocent.

“Don’t ‘hey’ me right now,” he muttered dangerously—eyes boring into yours—“Let’s leave,” his hand reached up quick, grabbing onto yours to pull you away.

“Woah there pretty,” you called out, brows raised, “who the fuck are you to tell me what to do?”

Silence—exactly.

“You can leave if you want Geto,” such condescension laced your voice, he was almost hurt.

“You’re drunk,”

“So are you,” you snapped back—he wasn’t—you knew he wasn’t.

He blinked once, then twice, gaze persistent—begging you to come; your hardened into denial.

He sighed one last time—“Get fucked bitch,” and before you could reply, he was gone.

Gone as that—leaving you in a mess of your own emotions and an idiot of an ex-boyfriend.

A three day mission, two days gone by, the larger partial of the mission dealt with—you crashed onto your ex’s bed the second night, no courage found to even meet Geto’s gaze after the scene at the club.

The smell of booze was intense, your mind slightly tipsy on its own accords. With a confused heart you scrolled through your Instagram, bored.

The snores of your ex—and the girl beside him provided little entertainment—the thought of Suguru Geto in the room beside did nothing to help, you wanted relief. But all to no avail for your vibrator was ‘lost’ too and the energy to chase your high was not your preferred option.

Your eyes found its way to the clock- 12:02 a.m. it was late—‘would he be asleep?’ You wondered, fingers adamantly rubbing slow circles around your nipples—again, desperate.

Eyes closed, you fought urges to call him—just to tease of course, you could pretend to be drunk after all.

And so your thoughts fought quick—to lay bare without him or with him, eyes staring at the screen if your phone—ring!

Your eyes widened- the caller id read ‘Bangs’, you mentally convulsed. You stared at the second for a decent ten seconds—11, 12, 13–you knew he cut it any second—14, 15–“Hello?” You mumbled quick, raspy.

“Awake?” He inquired- “No,” you replied.

You welcomed his silence on the line—“Come here,”

“No,” you echoed—“don’t wanna talk to you,” you mumbled- mind hazy to how you couldn’t help the fingers swirling around your hardened nipples.

“I’m not calling here to talk,” his voice was sharp—annoyed—a silence you offered him this time.

“You think I don’t notice doll?” You could hear the smirk, “You’re probably wet just by the sound of me,”—you were—“so needy,”

“You’re the one who’s calling me Geto,” you snapped, “Really needy of you,”

“Maybe I do need you—keep rubbing, slowly, touch yourself doll, just slightly,” your mouth ran dry—you obliged without a second thought, “and maybe I have something that you need too—tell me though, can your silly little ex even touch you as good as you imagine me to, even in his dreams?,” a grin—a shit-eating grin, on his face you imagined. Such a fucking thief.

“Don’t tell me what to do,” you muttered through your side of the line, an airy breath leaving you as your fingers dipped beneath your shorts—as you did exactly what he told you to—“Sure thing,” his voice polite with just the best undertones of condescension, “Just a request then, doll, check if you’re wet please,”

You could practically moan at his voice and words—you were wet, nimble fingers prodding cautiously, “I’m not,” you lied- a moan bitten back, “Seems like your needy cunt really does need the pretty pink vibrator to get ya turned on Hm?” Husky, he sounded.

“Give it back Geto,” a whine, “Come take it,” a challenge.

And however could you deny a challenge from him?

A knock, and then two more—just like last time.

The door opened just as quick—brows raised, “Yes?” He questioned as if he hadn’t just teased you through the phone 5 minutes ago—you eyed him, “I believe you stole something,”

He grinned, your frown widened—“Come inside,” his hand gently found its way onto the small of your back—the gravity of the situation slowly befell you, you regretted nothing.

You walked slow, as you’d last night, “Where is it?” You questioned, brows furrowed, “Where’s what, pretty?”

Fingers clenched you stared at him, “Enough with your games Geto—hand it the fuck back,”

You watched as he slowly walked around you, a slow pace as he ended right behind you, bending slightly to grab the soda can—something easily possible without managing to glue his dick to the round of your ass—your face burnt.

“My my, such a dirty mouth you got there doll,” you needn’t turn back to imagine his expressions, “Maybe I should punish you- you’ve been bad all night anyways,” your blood boiled at the whisper of his words- “I wouldn’t have to, had you not been the idiot you are,”

His fingers were quick on your waist, spinning you to face him—even without a surface to be pinned against, you felt trapped under his gaze.

“So mean to me,” he mumbled—eyes bearing into yours, a subtle smirk, “There are other ways of getting into a guys’ pants you know,”

Eyes narrowed you scrunched your face, “Rather fuck a-”

“-a pig before me,” he rolled his eyes, “Yeah yeah, I know doll,” a sip of his soda he took, “But that’s not what you were doing this evening Hm?” His fingers were quick to grab your chin too, urging you to look no where but his eyes.

“Tell me doll,” he pressed, “What were you trying to do Hm? Grinding against those guys’ cocks? You’re that cock-hungry? A slut?”

Red- you saw red as his words registered in your head—a shake of the head was all to be offered, “Such a pity I had to deal with this way because you can’t control yourself,” your eyes widened, shushed by a shake of his head—perhaps, reassuring.

“So tell me, what were you trying?”

You stared, like a kid caught stealing- you could only stand there guiltily, answer on the tip of the tongue, but too ashamed to mumble it out.

Suguru simply hummed, “Too embarrassed to accept it doll? That’s fine—maybe me sending pictures of your little toy or the recording of you moaning today in the morning—”

Your ears rang- no way he heard that- your mouth hung open, “You sound like a pretty bitch in heat you know,” it was simply insulting, to have him say all this- but it was in the way it felt good—in the way it made you wetter.

“Don’t,” you managed, he grinned further, “Don’t what doll?”

You rolled your eyes, seemingly unable to get out of your predicament, “Geto please,” finally—you could see he’d mentally relented already, “Please give me back my…” you paused, swallowing, “please uh- my, my vibrator, give it back please,” your face flushed.

His gaze remained fixated, “Don’t think that’s what it is, c’mon dummy, you’re smarter than this right?”

Jaw tightened, you stared at him, “Geto please, can I have my- my uh, my pretty little pink vibrator back?” The way you bit your lip so hard, Suguru was sure it would bleed any second—adorable.

He clapped right then, like a proud teacher—walking closer to you, “such an obedient doll,” so close hope stood, his breath lingering upon your face, eyes observant to every breath and sigh—smiling when he noticed your relaxed fingers.

He knew you liked this.

“Nope,” he chuckled—“don’t wanna hand it back yet,” you wanted to scream at him—you couldn’t of course.

“And you haven’t told me yet,” he continued, “why were you acting like a brat Hm?”

And somehow accepting this was worse than accepting the fact above- “I wanted..” he stared hungrily, “I wanted your attention,” everything in that moment felt more interesting than his expressions—he found you all too cute such.

“Aha,” he smiled wide, “You wanted to suck my dick so bad pretty?”

“Not everything is about your dick,” you flared—“But this is, isn’t it?” He sneered—and you quietened down again for it was.

It escalated quickly here on, his hand moving to grope your breasts—“Can i kiss you?” He murmured against your skin and as much as you wanted to humble him- to not feed into his ego, you nodded.

With his lips latched onto the supple skin of your shoulder he pulled you closer still—so very close, a you let out a soft moan, having accepted it was a lost battle to fight him anymore.

“Eager,” he gripped your jaw- making you face him again, “Aren’t we?” A chuckle rumbled deep in his chest—fingers betraying his composure too, in the hasty way they unbuttoned your shirt.

“Eager, aren’t we?” You mirrored his expression- smirking all the same as you unbuttoned his.

“Shut up,” he muttered, a simple command—but you’d be fucked truly if you listened to him of course.

“Do it yourself,” you grin- already pushed underneath him—“Aren’t even gonna tell me to stop? Thought you came here to get something? Or maybe the slut really did just want attention,” smile, condescending—and he did shut you up.

And so there you were, pinned underneath him- hungry lips searching every inch of you, mapping your body in just a certain way.

“Had I known,” he grunted in midst the frenzied kisses, “that you tasted so sweet—I’d keep you like this all the damn time rather than fighting,” you groaned against him, feeling his hard dick propped against your thigh—separated by all but a think layer of clothing—“You talk a lot, shut up,”

He let your words fall blatantly, mouth never parting from your face as it smeared around wet kisses all over it, letting a deep moan as your hands found their way into the tangled mess of his black hair, pulling slightly with every grind of his hips. A breathy moan escaped you too—His teeth nipping at the soft flesh of your ears—“this is what you want right? What you want all the damn time?”

You couldn’t care less about his taunting—until a sudden slap ended upon your face, jaw gripped by fingers—“Tell me, could those men have given it to you like I do?” Heat surged through you—pooling all the way into your abdomen.

A grin you passed and and nod—another sharp slap, it felt euphoric.

Slowly, Suguru pulled away, enticing a low groan from you—“get up,” he murmured and you obliged, black eyes staring into yours, “get up and on all fours,”

“Really gonna fuck in a brothel?” A cheeky grin you adorned, body working nevertheless, as per his words—with hands and knees planted on the bed, you gave a soft arch to your back.

The clink of his belt entered your ears, the low shudder of his clothes thrown away—“Since you love acting like a prostitute, it would only make sense, right?” A hand reached to pull away your shorts too, save for the little black thong you wore—a smirk on his face as he admired the view. His fingers were soft in the way they explored—touching and prodding every inch of your back, resting just a little too long at the curve of your ass.

Suguru geto was simply cruel in the way he administered the pleasure on you- handing you a little and taking away a whole lot for the moment his fingers came close to your clothed cunt, the moment your sensitive core could feel the slightest touch, he was gone. All too aware of the wet patch on your panties, you dared not question a thing.

Body shifted to face you, he kneeled on the bed too—your eyes widened slightly, scrolling down to the length of his cock, it was pretty you had to admit. A decent length with a girth that you knew you would have you crying later—an angry pink-ish tip welcomed you, pre-cum leaking over it.

“Go on,” he commanded, “not gonna put your whorish mouth to use doll?” And normally you’d have reciprocated his words- but just the way his hands gripped your hair, bunching it up into a ponytail of sorts- you knew he was playing. You inched closer, hesitant eyes staring up at him as you shyly licked the tip, it was salty, nothing that you truly minded.

You gulp- uncertain lips as they wrap around the top, an experimental flick to his tip you passed- a hiss escaping his pretty lips, grip tightening on your hair.

“Come now doll,” he sneered, “don’t go all shy over me now—run your mouth the way you used to suck up for that ex of yours,” you pass him a glare- mouth pulling away from his upturned cock entirely—he chuckled.

“No lie right? After all, you were begging to sleep with him doll, cozied up beside him yeah?” All the while he kept pressuring your hair, a soft cry you let out.

“You act very smart yaknow,” he rubbed his chin—“Try that again,” and with no choice but to comply — you open your mouth and insert the tip of his cock, your jaw loosening to accommodate the familiar girth of his length protruding from your oral cavity to the walls of your throat. Geto hissed at the swirl of your tongue on the underside of his dick, his free hand now on the top of your head with tufts of your hair in his fingers. "...mmhmm, this is how you should use that mouth doll, not in all that chit-chat you do,"

And if you could, in the moment you only wanted to bite his dick off- it would’ve been hilarious, had he not been holding onto the pictures and recordings—and you suck as you could, the precum’s taste all over your tongue while his grasp on your hair tightened— fingers roughly pushing your head to bob up and down.

It simply felt disgusting to be treated this way, like his slut- like his toy and only worse was the wetness between your legs that couldn’t seem to stop growing.

“Shit,” he breathed out, “Ah— shit shit, jus’ like that doll,” it felt Dirty—but so good, to have him falling apart at your touch, even if he held the control, “s’good for me yeah?” Raspy, he sounded-hips bucking into your mouth and before you could register what was happening, his fingers pushed your face to his base, his cock prodding deep down your throat, tears were quick to pool around your eyes.

And just then, he pulled out, leaving your mouth feeling hollow—finger quick to pump his shaft, lubricated by all but your spit—a string of saliva joining it still to your mouth. And right before you, Suguru came with a sharp hiss, “A-ah, fuck,” he groaned, cumming all over your face and chest—paining you in his mess.

You watched him like that for a second, unspent, eyes huge as you instantly get to suck on his thumb he shoved right into your face.

“Good girl,” he murmured— “So good f’me,” he grinned, he wasn’t done yet- not until you’d be too exhausted to even move.

He eyed your form, on all fours for him like a true slut, his eyes only held adoration as he watched his cum stain your face—his eyes, however, we’re quick to take note of your drooling mess soon.

He stood behind you now, face level with your clothed pussy—“How pathetic,” he grinned, “You got so fucking wet by me using your mouth doll?” It was the way he said it—making the statement sound so innocent and yet, “Or was it the call? You got all so wet by just my voice? But then again, should’ve known—”

—smack!!

Your body lurched forward with the sudden force—a cry escaping your lips. You heard him chuckle, “such a tease, you have to be punished right?” A shake of your head he offered, nothing against his predefined course of actions.

Another spank he lay down—lips biting down onto suppress your moans—“I’m talking to you doll—fucking answer me,” another spank, you couldn’t help the pleasure the pain from his palm provided.

Quick enough, his belt was grabbed- grabbing your arms, he shoved your form into the ass-up-face-down position, classic.

“Sorry,” you mumbled helplessly—aware of your bare ass being exposed to him as he slowly pulled down your panties.

“Fuck doll,” he bore, “you’re fuckin glistenin’,” you knew it and the fact that you knew made it all the worse—just so another spank came crashing down, a rough squeeze he offered this time too, “think I should gag you with these eh?” The cockiness all too prevalent in his voice as he pocketed your soiled panties.

A whimper you let out at his words—needy.

His eyes stared at your core, “Spread your legs for me pretty,” and even that small murmur seemed sweet to you as you obliged quickly—he chuckled.

“So obedient for me, you’re far better when you’re like this you know,”

“Savour it while it lastssss- oh” your words interrupted by a dega of his fingers down your slit—filthy.

Quick to inhale the scent of you— he spanked you again, “only use your mouth to moan and scream for me or to tell me to stop ok?” You nodded, head pressed into the mattress, heart racy.

And in that moment—the power handle shifted just a bit as Suguru moaned wantonly, nuzzling up his nose between your folds—for just in that moment, he let you guide him. A tentative tongue swivelled through your folds—lapping onto it like he was hungry, and perhaps he was top, for your attention and praise.

“Fuck- right there yes,” you moaned hazily, the grip of his fingers tightening around your thighs—sure to leave bruises, he sucked reverently, as if worshipping you in this state and form.

He didn’t tease you anymore—he couldn’t, for as much as he wanted to see you cry for him, for his touch—he was starved. And he wanted to show you too, that even in your palm he treated you better than any guy ever could.

“Mmm su!” You cried softly, mouth hanging open to just let out out moans and cries-“jus’ like that—s’ perfect,” you arched your back more for him—letting him better access to your hole as he whimpered against your clit—“So so good for me Su,” you mumbled mindlessly as His moans against your slick cunt vibrate you to your core, as he greedily laps you up, tongue-fucking the precise spot that you praised him for finding until the coil in your stomach tightens, and you brace yourself against his shoulder.

“Like that?” He groaned against your cunt, pulling away slightly only to insert a finger suddenly, “feels good baby?” He questioned, spitting onto your pussy and rubbing it all over your core messily—another finger inserted, he stretched you out slowly.

“Could your boyfriend have done this Hm?” You took note of the green in his voice—“of course he couldn’t—nothing could right doll?” You nodded hastily, too focused on chasing your high until—smack! Another spank to pull you out of it—you whined.

“S’tight doll—not even your fucking vibrator yeah,” slowly—the slight buzz of it entered your ears—eyes widening.

The hum only ever got louder as he brought your toy closer to your core—chuckling as you clenched around still air—“so desperate—who do you belong to Hm?”

Silence you offered, not even a moan as he rubbed the vibrator around your core—he grinned devilishly, “Now is not the moment to play games doll—” you groaned at the touch of the vibrator.

“Oh?” He smiled, “don’t want it? Isn’t this what you came for in the first place?”

Another swift smack—this time on your pussy, you clenched and cried all together—“Ah!” His fingers curled up inside you—“I’m talking to you—Mm! Yeah- talking to you doll,” he grunted, watching you fall apart—another sharp spank on the same spot had tears building up in your eyes again.

“Who does this slutty pussy belong to? Who do you think about when you cum doll?” You never wanted to feed his ego but in the way, he cruelly pulsated his fingers inside you—teasing your clit slowly with the vibrator you couldn’t help it.

“You,” you breathed out- “Fuck s’you—all you,”

“Scream my name doll, let your ex know it too,” and just then he pulls his fingers away too, and the vibrator—latching onto your clit, his tongue again, swirling and swiping—until, it was there.

And all in a moment, it hits you like a wave—pleasure washing all over you as you cum all over his tongue—shuddering and shaking through it, riding his tongue out as you did so.

If you could look behind and spot him, you’d be all too pleased I assure you, with cheeks flushed he kneeled behind you, lips swollen and covered in your cum.

“Shit,” he groaned after a moment of silence, his and yours, “Pretty sure you woke the whole hotel up with your moans ya know,” and just like that, he was back at his usual self—“Shut up,” you mumbled, moving your arms to remind him to untie you.

He was quick to settle you back into a sitting position—propped against his chest you lay, head resting on his shoulder—“You want something? Water?” He inquired, concerned eyes boring into yours, you shook your head, he nodded.

You sat there a moment, “It’s 1:30 already,” you mumbled, just like last night—“I should go,” he grinned again, “I would, had your ex been a better fuck than me,” you giggled at his words—“Certainly more entertaining,” you gingerly spoke—“Liar,” he chuckled.

“And please,” his fingers teasing your nipples now—slow, steady circles, “I’m not letting you go until I’ve made you cum at least thrice more,”

“Suguru!”

“And now you say my name?” A deep laughed rumbled as he held you close—“uh- suguru,” you looked at him closely, “Can you delete those…the pictures and all?”

He chuckled again—already aware of your angry gaze the moment he replied, “my doll really is dumb yeah? You think I would care enough to film you when I could cum at the sound of you moaning?”

“What the fuck Geto?”

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