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written-in-flowers · 6 months ago

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His Kitten: Demon!Seonghwa x Fem!Reader

Pairing: Incubus!Seonghwa x Fem!Reader | side pairings: demon!yeosang x reader, demon!jongho x reader

Word Count: 9k

Genre: smut, angst, slight fluffiness MINORS DNI

Tags: Enslavement, master/slave dynamic, enemies to fuck buddies, hate sex (w/ yeosang), degradation (w/yeosang), sloppy oral sex (m. and f. receiving/giving), rough oral sex, squirting, fingering, handjobs, masturbating, couch sex, voyeurism, exhibitionism (w/Jongho), use of petnames (kitten, love, slut), praise kink, swallowing cum, dirty talk, slight edging, mild overstimulation, sloppy seconds in a way,

Summary: YN reaches the second part of her first day: Master Seonghwa, the sophisticated man who loves music, poetry and science. But, even surrounded by decadence and refinement, Seonghwa can be anything but proper.

Previously on Pretty Pet | > Next

***

Baths used to be your favorite things about the living world. You’d buy expensive bath bubbles, drink champagne and listen to the radio after a long work week. Sitting in the porcelain tub, you rested against the back and let yourself soak in the warm water. The bathtub built into a window frame, you had a perfect view of the sprawling gardens beyond the palace. An expanse of greenery and vibrancy you’d never see anywhere else in Hell. You found it odd, as you sat there and stared out the window. Movies usually depicted Hell as being this dark place with fiery lava lakes and rocky floors and ceilings. Yet, the highest level had all the beauty and magnificence you wouldn’t find in the inner circles. You supposed the smoggy skies, hot weather, and fire are for the tortured to suffer through, not the torturers.

“Ah, here you are. I figured you’d be cleaning up in here.”

Yeosang’s voice came from somewhere behind you, but you didn’t respond. The brothers must truly be wealthy if they have such a grand estate. A bronze fountain of a young woman surrounded by birds and flowers sat in the middle of the garden, the water spouting like crystals from the birds’ mouths. You imagined it looked more beautiful in person.

“The Masters have already left for work,” Yeosang continued, “But Master Seonghwa would like to have lunch with you when he returns.”

You’d never seen such a luxurious place before. Luxury for you was fast cars, designer clothes and fine jewelry. But this place carried every comfort you could possibly think of. It did not feel like much of a punishment to you.

“Which means I have to take you to his apartment to acquaint you with the place,” he continued, not noticing your glazed over expression.

If being a demon’s slave meant you got to enjoy fine luxuries like this, was it really so bad?

“He also drummed up a schedule for you as well,” you heard him moving around behind you, likely pulling together a ‘Seonghwa approved’ outfit for you. “It isn’t much like Master San’s schedule with the housewife duties, but it is rather demanding. I believe you’ll learn a lot if you listen and pay attention…”

You supposed you should still feel scared and anxious, but you couldn’t be bothered anymore. Years of being in the slums of the inner city, Inferno, destroyed any sort of fear you might’ve once had. Fear and misery turned into close friends of yours, and you learned to tolerate their company. You’d spent most of your living life surviving, and your afterlife was no different. The House of Kisses was a cesse pool of low-life demons, Imps, eager to enjoy "exotic tastes" while humans suffered in a new kind of way. The average succubi cost a dime a dozen, but humans went for much higher prices. Brothel owners loved showcasing their human slaves as special items. This meant you received a lot more patrons than the next average succubi. In the living world, that might’ve been a good thing, but in Inferno, in Hell, it’s not. You’d grown to enjoy the beasts who ravaged you because the alternative was wallowing in self-pity. You don’t like pity parties.

“...Master Seonghwa loves music…”

In this grand keep, you had all the things you couldn’t get in the brothel. Clean water, fresh air, sunlight and an actual bed became dreams to you in the House of Kisses. Okay, sure, you have to juggle three horny incubi on the regular, and possibly their servants at times, but it was fine. The Masters haven’t treated you in any particularly terrible way; you preferred them over the hulking, wretched brutes in the brothels. You pictured the muscular beasts then, recalling various shades of green, red, and orange with eyes of black or yellow. They looked like demons. Your Masters, and other high-born demons, did not.

“-You should also be aware that Master Seonghwa expects proper ettitquete and-”

“-How come they resemble humans?”

“Pardon?”

“High borns,” you turned in the bath to face him. “Why don’t they look like other demons? The only similarities they share are horns, claws and teeth. Why is that?”

“Higher forms of demons must imitate humans in order to corrupt and seduce them,” he explained. You noticed he held a pale blue dress made of satin and tulle. “We’re born this way.”

“Yeah, but they’re in their home? Why keep the disguise?”

“It’s not a disguise,” he drawled, hanging up the dress and grabbing a towel. “It’s how we’re made. I wouldn’t expect you to understand. It’s beyond your realm of intelligence.”

You glared at him, standing when he approached you. “It would be easier if you just said they’re some kind of higher form of demon or whatever.”

“That’s what I said,” he wrapped the towel around you and began drying you off. “You weren’t listening.”

“I was listening,” you argued, “And you said you’re born that way. How? Is it through evolution? Did a demon fuck a human and all of a sudden their offspring came out resembling humans?”

“It happened out of necessity,” he said. “We couldn’t very well lure people from the path of God if we looked like those down below, could we?”

“In the stories they did.”

“Yes, well those are stories.”

You felt him dry up your thighs and stop at your hips. “Stories have truths to them,” you said, not noticing where he came at level, “And knowing myself, I can imagine there was some lady somewhere who wanted to fuck a demon. Like, not all the people in the whatever-hundred century were prudes. I’m sure my ancestors carried on the way I did before I died.” When you didn’t hear a response, you looked down to see Yeosang staring right at your crotch. “Um, hello? Is there something weird about it?”

“No,” he said, clearing his throat and quickly returning to dry you up. “It’s fine. I’m just surprised by the lack of sores on you. I was sure you’d have one or two from all that fucking you do in the brothels.”

“If I had sores, you would’ve found them when you washed me, duh.”

“They’re hidden sometimes,” he said, drying your back. “You brothel whores like to hide them with makeup or creams to keep yourselves in business. It’s a shame humans can still get sick here in Hell,” he said, though didn’t sound very sad about it. “You end up infecting the rest of us because you can’t keep yourselves clean.”

“It’s demons who give it to us first most of the time.”

“Yes, the disgusting ones you’re used to rolling around with, I’m sure.”

“Not all of them are like that,” you remarked, needing to at least get one back.

“Most of them.”

Yeosang put you in the satin and tulle dress, seeing the shades of light blue each time you swished it around. You fixed your hair into a more comfortable style, and Yeosang insisted you add a ribbon to it somewhere. Cute. Innocent. Delicate. That was Seonghwa’s type. You hated the idea of having to be the sickeningly sweet, shy kitten, but you knew you must.

“Here,” Yeosang handed you another laminated paper, “Seonghwa’s schedule.”

Seonghwa’s schedule for you differed from San’s. “Where is Seonghwa anyways?”

“The Masters are all at work,” he said. “Master Seonghwa always comes home for his lunch break, preferring to eat comfortably at home than deal with his coworkers. It also gives him time to work on home projects instead of work ones.”

“Home projects? Like crafting?” you snorted envisioning the proper, stern brother making paper mache crafts or knitting.

“Master Seonghwa is an intelligent man with lots of various interests: the exploration of science and chemistry being one of them. He likes to experiment with different things,” he said. “But now that he has you, I’m sure you’ll be his main focus.”

You didn’t want to think what sort of ‘experiments’ a demon could have.

You read the laminated paper he’d given you as he walked you from San’s bedroom to Seonghwa’s room down the hall. At the top, it read that you’d be seeing him on his own on Mondays and Thursdays, while having you with his brothers on Sundays. San’s read something similar, except you had him Wednesdays and Saturdays. Hongjoong, you guess, would be Tuesday and Friday. You felt like you were in school again: going from class to class on separate days, getting the times and periods confused. Seonghwa’s idea of a proper schedule included language, writing, reading, and musical subjects, rather than chores.

“6am: wake up for morning routine. 7am: wake up Master. 8am: breakfast with Master. 9am: Cello lesson,” you read out loud. “10am: Piano lesson. 11:10am to 12:15pm: Singing lessons- I don’t need singing lessons,” you let out a soft laugh.

“Master Seonghwa enjoys music,” he said, “And he said he wants his pet to know how to play instruments and sing beautifully. He is our master, so we must give him whatever he wants. If he wants his caged bird to sing, you’re going to sing.”

“I sing when I want to.”

“Not anymore. You lost that freedom when you decided a life of excess at the expense of others was more important than being a good person.”

“Good is subjective to me.”

“Psh, it would be.”

“Well, alright Mr. Snotty Pants, who is my teacher then?”

“Me,” he said.

“Why you?”

“Because I’m more qualified for it than anyone else, and I am your handler,” he said. “Yunho is too busy, and Jongho is too soft. I’ll be stricter, which Master Seonghwa wanted.”

“Then why doesn’t he just teach me himself if he thinks I need a strict teacher?”

“Because he’s a busy man, and he doesn’t have all the time in the world like some of us around here.”

You knew a dig at you when you saw it. You went back to your schedule as he opened the door with a key. “1pm to 2:30pm, lunch with Master. 3pm to 4pm: World Literature. 4:24pm to 5pm: History and Geography of Inferno. 5pm: Master returns home. 6pm: dinner with Master, 7pm: bath and bed routine. 8pm: bedtime. When would I have time to go to the next Master’s room? San wants me to wake up at 6am. I’d be leaving Seonghwa before he’s even woken up.”

“Your time with Seonghwa would be finished, honestly. As I said, he’s a busy man,” he rolled his eyes, “I’d be the one waking you up. The Masters like to keep a strict schedule, and giving you a proper routine keeps your mind occupied. We need to preserve the few brain cells left to you. Here we are. Seonghwa’s apartments.”

While San stuck to a retro style, Seonghwa took a more refined approach. White walls with intricate gold borders that led up into murals on the ceiling, everything looked very ornamental and expensive. The high ceilings gave space for the large chandelier that gave warmth to the room at night, and brightness to the angelic scenery painted into the different panels. It reminded you of Versailles in France with its finery and excess of wealth. You spotted a white piano in the corner by the window, where Seonghwa expected you to play for him while he lounged back on the seats nearby. You played piano as a child, but you’d fallen out of it in your teen years.

Yeosang took you through the main sitting room, and into a private parlor where you’d sit with Seonghwa after he came home from work. Like San, he’d left a list of drinks he liked and how to make them. That was one problem you wouldn’t have. You knew alcoholic drinks like you knew your colors and fabrics.

“Here is the library,” Yeosang said, bringing you into a large room lined with bookshelves, “You’ll be having most of your lessons in here. Music lessons will be in the music room-”

“-It is the music room, so one would assume that already-”

“Just making sure. Some of your humans can’t even write a proper sentence, let alone put two and two together,” he continued walking ahead of you. "Master Seonghwa likes to spend his leisure time in these rooms, so do your best to actually pay attention in your lessons. Your position in this household would be pointless if you can’t please your masters in and out of the bedroom.”

“I’ve become pretty aware of that, yeah.” You scanned one of the shelves, reading titles of books you’d heard of but never read before. “He’s the bookish brother, then?”

“Yes, he is. Master Seonghwa is a man of culture and refinement. He likes things to be neat and clean. He likes his sluts to have some sort of brain he can pick at or divulge in an intelligent conversation with. It’s why he picked you, a brainless slum slut, to be his slave. He can rebuild your brain into what he wants. Kind of like a mechanic getting a basic car and designing it to their liking.”

“I’m not ‘brainless’.”

“Ha, cute,” he snorted. “I’d hate to see what happened if you failed to be even partly more interesting than you are right now.”

Or he’d secretly enjoy it. Yeosang finished giving you the tour and brought you back into the main room. “Obviously, you aren’t going to have your lessons today since it’s already too late for some of them, so you’re free to roam around until Master Seonghwa arrives. Try not to break anything. Everything here costs more than you do.”

With that, Yeosang left you standing in the sitting room. You thought you’d met snotty people before, but Yeosang took the cake. Putting his snide remarks aside, you walked over to the piano. You hated to tell Seonghwa that he was wasting his time with the music lessons. You sat at the bench, putting your fingers over the ivory keys, and began playing a tune that came to you so easily.

“I come home in the morning light, my mother says when you gonna live your life right? Oh Mama dear, we’re not the fortunate ones, and girls, they wanna have fun…oh girls just wanna have fun…”

You remembered listening to the song when it first came out. It became your personal anthem. You played it during road trips with your friends. You danced to it in your bedroom and whenever it came on at clubs. Eventually, you learned how to play it on the piano. Music was one of the few freedoms you’re allowed to still have. Brothel owners loved inviting musicians to entertain the customers, and you could sit and listen to them in between clients. You might not sing well, but you didn’t sound terrible, people said.

You’d finished the song, feeling upbeat and free, when a voice cut it off like a knife.

“You said you couldn’t sing.”

Snapping your head up, fear bounced up into your throat to squash all your joy. Seonghwa stood a few feet from you, leaning against the back of a chair near the window. The bright sunlight illuminated one side of his face, casting the other half in shadow. He didn’t seem too upset, more surprised than anything else.

“I can’t,” you said, your palms sweating, “I don’t sing well, which is what I assumed you all wanted to know.”

“And you never mentioned being about to play the piano either.”

“You didn’t ask,” you replied. If he wanted to know, he should’ve looked for that when he poked around in your head.

He huffed a laugh, then came over to the piano bench. “What other songs do you know?”

“Not the ones you’d want me to play.”

“Such as?”

“Those boring compositions the nerdy kids played at recitals and talent shows,” you rolled your eyes. “You know, Chopin, Beethoven, and Mozart. The classic dudes.”

“I do like the classics,” he admitted, “But I found the music humans listen to equally enjoyable. Hongjoong likes it more than me, so he’ll love this, but I like it too.”

“They don’t play our music here.”

“I know. I mean when I went above ground.”

“You went to the living world?”

“My brothers and I go up there and cause mischief sometimes,” he said with a sneer. “Just when I think humans can not get any worse, they manage to prove me wrong. I was probably there when you overdosed, if anything.”

“Trust me,” you shook your head, “If I’d seen you there, I wouldn’t have bothered with the coke at all.”

“So, you’re saying you would’ve taken me home with you?” he said, facing you and sliding a hand on your lap.

“You’re beautiful. Of course.”

“Makes being my slave a lot more appealing, doesn’t it?”

“It does. If you hadn’t taken me in, I’d be back in the circle whirling around in that big cyclone.” The thought of it sweeped its way back to you.

“What is it like there? I've never been there myself.”

“Tormenting. I felt so many sensations and feelings all at once forever without a break. It’s that feeling of thinking it’ll stop eventually, but then it never does. It keeps going and going,” you traced one of the black keys, not even registering Seonghwa’s hand as you envisioned your original punishment. “When they pulled me out of that storm, I thought I’d been saved and would be waking up any moment. But, that didn’t happen. I was thrown from one prison into another.”

“You deserved it.”

“I did,” you nodded. “I know that now. My company-my scam-It hurt so many people. I sold people penny stocks at high prices, and raked in the money when those stocks turned out to bring them only dimes. That man you mentioned? His name was Randal Singer. He was an assistant manager at a Rite Aid. I tricked him into thinking investing would help his finances.” You gulped, tapping a key to distract yourself. You played the first notes of TOTO’s ‘Africa’ idly, not really following the flow exactly. “His wife was pregnant; they’d just gotten married and wanted to save up for a home. I told him investing in stocks would get him there faster.”

“Not to mention all the men you fucked to get yourself in that position,” he said, “Though, I will commend you on one thing: you blasted that glass ceiling. Before you, women could only be secretaries in that office. You started there, and worked up to leaving and owning your own investment company.”

“I fucked my way to the top,” you said, recalling Hongjoong’s words from earlier that morning. “I didn’t care if my lovers had spouses or partners. I saw what they could get me, and I took it. I don’t know how I ended up in lust, when I should’ve gone to greed.”

“They go hand-in-hand in my opinion,” he shrugged. “People who live like that have a bit of both. Look at Yunho: he is a demon of greed, but he indulges in lustful acts greedily. He has an orgasm, and then wants even more. He watched you fuck one of us, but then wants to watch you do it again.”

“I suppose,” you shrugged. “I still don’t know how some things work here.”

“If you don’t know,” he said, “The answer is usually ‘magic’.”

“Master?” Yunho appeared in the dining room doorway, purposefully avoiding eye contact with you, “Lunch is ready.”

“Perfect. I’m famished.”

You walked with Seonghwa into the decadent, intimate dining room. On plates of fine china with gold utensils, servants in white and gold uniforms served the first course: a green salad with a raspberry vinaigrette. You sensed a three course meal coming on, and didn’t eat the entire salad.

“How was your morning with San?” he asked, washing some salad down with white wine.

“It was…fine.”

“Just fine? From what he said, you left a few stains in his newly pressed pants.”

“It was incredible,” you said, “What else do you want me to say?”

“That you hated it and you thought about me the whole time,” he smirked before chewing on more salad.

You actually laughed, “Fine, Master. I hated every single second and wished it was you.”

“As you should.” He then asked, “Yeosang told you about your schedule, yes?”

“Yes.”

“What did you think of it?”

“Reminds me of college.”

“Did you even go to college?”

“For a bit.”

The servants took your salads away, and brought the main course: a rice bowl topped with black beans, cherry tomatoes, cilantro and peppers. The servant who placed down yours added a dollop of sour cream to the top. It reminded you of the fancy dinners you went out to on weekends. Drinking expensive wine and eating food you couldn’t pronounce sounded so nice at the time.

“What did you study?” He asked curiously.

“Business. I hated it, so I dropped out my first year.”

“Why did you hate it?”

You thought about it a moment, picking at your bowl and eating it quietly. “It made me feel stupid.”

“What do you mean?”

“I grew up thinking I was smart, because I did pretty okay in school. I got into college, and I'm around people who really are smart and I realized how dumb I actually am.”

“You're not dumb.”

“I am,” you huffed out a laugh. “I really am.”

“Kitten, you owned an investment firm where you cleverly scammed innocent people for their money. Someone with no brains wouldn't be able to pull that off, and besides,” he scooped up more of his rice, “Brains aren't everything. You're beautiful, Kitten, and that pretty privilege got you in a lot of doors. You also have brawn.”

“Brawn?”

“Not in the physical way, but the emotional way,” he said. “You're gutsy. You take risks. You saw something you wanted, something that could get you somewhere and you went for it. Do you know how crazy and desperate you have to be to willingly give yourself over to slavers? You didn’t know what you'd be getting into and it completely backfired. But still, you saw that you might get a better deal somewhere else, and took it. I find that quite admirable, and my brothers feel the same.”

Not many people applauded your “talents” before. They spent too much time on how terrible you'd been in your previous life. You smiled to yourself and began eating your lunch. Dessert was a regular chocolate parfait with chocolate chips and creamy mousse. It tasted better than anything you'd ever eaten in the inner circles.

“I have some time left in my lunch break,” he said, pushing out his chair when lunch ended. “Sit with me for a while.”

You both went back to the sitting room with the piano, taking seats on the couch.

“Even in Hell there are office jobs, huh?” you asked with amusement. You curled up to him as he’d want you to, and put your arms around his as if clinging to him. Men like Seonghwa like the extra attention. You knew many businessmen who enjoyed the special attention of a beautiful woman.

“In a way,” he said, arm draped over your shoulder. “I’m a Burrower.”

“A ‘Burrower’? What is that?”

“What you saw me do at breakfast,” he said, “It’s sort of like being a judgment of souls. I see into a person’s mind, and dig out all the terrible things they’ve done. That way, I can put in a suggestion of where they go. It’s not up to me in the end, but what I report back is taken into consideration.”

“A big job then?”

“Very big and very important.”

“I didn’t know I belonged to such a high-ranking person,” you said, giving him a small smile.

“You do,” he nuzzled your nose softly. “It makes you sort of special. I’m sure it’s nothing you won’t be used to in the long run. You liked the special treatment when you were alive; I think you’ll like it more when you’re here too.”

“I’m never opposed to special treatment,” you replied with a mischievous smile. “What about your brothers?”

“San works in the fighting arena as a Champion,” he answered. “If someone wishes to escape Inferno and go to Purgatory to begin their repentance, they have to go through San first.”

“I’m assuming through a fight?”

“Yes, through a fight to the death. The first one to get cut three times loses.”

“Does anyone ever win?”

“Hardly ever,” he said. “San says they have to really want to repent for their sins. They have to want to be saved, not just to escape their punishments. The ones who really want it have a higher chance than someone wanting to get out.”

“Hongjoong works there too?”

“Hongjoong?” he scoffed, “Never. He’s too bloodthirsty for the arena. No, Hongjoong works in the lowest circle as a Scourge.”

“A Scourge?”

“He tortures the worst of the worst. Think of dictators, mass murderers, child killers, and all those types. Hongjoong’s job, if they’re sent to the lowest circles, is to torture them until they mentally break,” he explained.

“What is the point in breaking them? They’re already in Hell.”

“Makes their time here more miserable. They inflicted misery onto others in their lifetimes, now it will be done back to them,” he shrugged. “It only makes sense.”

“I suppose.”

Lounging back on the sitting room couch, it felt like you weren't in Hell at all. You might be on vacation in the French countryside with a lover or friends. The brothers clearly modeled their home after the palaces and decadence of 18th century France. You wondered why that was.

“It's my favorite time period and place.”

You wished he'd keep out of your head for at least a few minutes.

“But, you're not-”

“-French? I know, but I grew up there. When I inherited this place, it was old and dreary. Demon architecture is heavy on the gothic styles of the 12th to 16th centuries with the high towers, extended buttresses and asymmetry. It's so dark, and depressing to me. I like sunlight and splendor, which the baroque and rococo styles have,” he stared up at the murals on the ceiling, “It's so refined and sophisticated. It reminds me of home.”

“I'll take your word for it.”

“You'll learn about it soon enough,” he said. “Yeosang and I will make sure you can actually hold an intelligent conversation.” He took a strand of your hair to play with, “You can have that with me, you know.”

“Get out of my head.”

“I’m your master, woman,” he said a bit sternly. “I can be in your head in as many ways as I like.” When you grew quiet, he continued, “As I said, you can have all of that with me. I am a man-”

“-A demon-” you corrected.

“-A demon who likes the finer things in life. Hell has so few luxuries for those condemned to suffer here, but it has plenty for those who live here,” he moved closer to you, sliding himself across the couch until your thighs touched. “Being my kitten gets you a lot of nice things, if you’re good.”

“And bad ones if I’m naughty?”

“That’s typically how these things work.” His hand found your knee, and slowly went upwards. “You get good things if you're good, and bad things if you're bad.”

“What would you consider “bad”, Master?” You decided to match his energy and reach over to cup his groin. Seonghwa did not object but instead inhaled a sharp breath. “Me coming onto you? Me wanting to taste you like I did last night? I only want to be your good kitten, Master.” Your fingers traced the seam of his crotch, feeling his cock underneath the smooth fabric. “What would get me punished?”

“You being inappropriate in public,” he lifted your dress, his arousal growing against your hand, “Swearing. Cursing. Not going to your lessons. Not listening to your instructors. Lying to me. Let other people aside from my brothers touch you without permission.” His floral pheromone seeped out of his pores and onto you instead. You found yourself drawing closer and closer to him; you moved your thighs apart to let him touch further. “Why? Do you plan on breaking each one?”

“What would my punishment be if I did? A hard spanking? A whipping?”

“If I tell you, then you'll be prepared,” he softly circled your clit area while you gradually pumped his cock from outside his pants. “I don't want you to know.” He cleared his throat in a cough when your thumb rolled over his clothed tip. “On your knees, Kitten. I think you deserve a special treat today.”

You slipped down onto the floor below him, and ran your hands up Seonghwa’s thighs. He let out a deep breath as you massaged his inner thighs and kissed along his bulge. You could almost smell him through the layers of cloth. Excitement bubbled in your stomach, trickling down into your panties once again. You’re sure part of your need came from his enchanting scents, but you’d loved it too. Hearing his low grunts and praises as you sucked him off turned you on more than anything. The anticipation alone might kill you if you don't have him soon. Hands traveling up his inner thighs to where his balls sat, you rolled your thumbs over them as you kissed up to his belt buckle. Seonghwa scooped up your hair, and simply followed your motions until he unbuckled himself for you. You licked your lips, saliva building up at the mere outline of him inches from your mouth. When he withdrew himself, you immediately went for it but he pulled you back by the hair.

“Wait,” he ordered gently, “Good girls wait.”

Seonghwa started stroking himself in front of you. You took in the long fingers slowly rubbing up and down; his thumb running over the veins coursing blood to make him harder, and pressing his forefingers on the other side of the head. You thought about that thick tip deep in your throat, cutting off your air and making you drool around him. The salty taste of his cum hadn’t been off-putting at all. It made you want more. You could nearly taste it on your tongue already as his erection grew in his hand.

“Spit on it for me, Kitten,” he said in his gentle voice. His mouth fell open when he saw you drool over his tip, centimeters away from licking the hole you'd spat on. “Good girl,” he praised, using your spit to lube himself up.

“Master, can I have it now, please?” You pouted, knowing exactly what kind of woman he wanted.

He tightened his grip on your hair and said, “Patience, sweetheart. Have patience.”

“But, it looks so good,” you said.

“I know it does,” he gave a particularly long stroke, covering even his tip before sliding back down. “But, you want it extra hard when you suck on it, don't you?”

“Yes.”

“Then you wait, baby.”

“Can I at least play with these?” You rubbed over his balls again, which made him jolt lightly. “Please?”

“May I or Can I?”

“May I, Master?” You corrected yourself.

“You may, Kitten.”

He groaned as you continued. Seonghwa let out streams of breathy moans as you rubbed up and around them. Hard stones that moved wherever your palm pushed them, you imagined each touch added fire to the kindling inside him. You never wanted to suck someone so badly before. Looking up at him from the floor, you could see his lean body underneath the neat, white shirt. His abs tensed whenever you gently tugged on his sack, and his arm flexed from the tension he brought on himself. His low, deep groans had you throbbing for his attention. You considered humping him as you'd done to San, but he caught this at once.

“Don't,” Seonghwa ordered, yanking your head back to look at him, “You stay put. I won't have you humping me like some pathetic dog.” He spread streams of precum over himself, wiping it on his fingers to stick in your mouth. “You're my kitten, not my puppy.”

“But, Master-” you spoke with his fingers settling on your tongue. Your pussy throbbed from the digits spreading him around.

“-’But’ nothing, Kitten. You'll get your attention when you get it,” he said, intently watching your lips around his fore and index fingers. “Stick out your tongue.”

Seonghwa dragged his wet tip along your outstretched tongue. Taste buds absorbing the salty strings melted right away. It had your thighs shaking. Your hips started rocking back and forth, wanting him to touch and finger you the way you desperately needed. You swatted your tongue against the underside, and he smacked his shaft to your cheek.

“I said stick it out, not to lick.”

“I'm sorry, Master. It just tastes so good,” you said, batting your lashes innocently. “I love sucking it.”

“I know, Kitten,” he said, going back to rubbing himself on your tongue and lips. “I remember how eagerly you swallowed my loads last night. If you're good, I'll give you as much as you want.”

“Really?” You asked, voice distorted by your outstretched tongue.

“Yes, really,” he chuckled, pushing himself further up your tongue and into your mouth. “I love spoiling my kittens.” He shuddered once he swirled the head around your tongue. “Give it a lick now, sweetheart. Just licking.”

You continued groping his balls while you began licking up and down his dick. Seonghwa leaned back in his seat, watching your tongue draw swirls along the sensitive vein running through it. Reaching the top, you felt tempted to suck up the clear drops leaking out, but instead you lapped at them. Seonghwa hissed through his teeth when your eyes met. He chuckled and shook his head when you spat it out onto his cock again. The laughter died out when you proceeded to continue interchanging spitting and licking him. Permitting you to use your hands, Seonghwa knew it was over once both your hands wrapped around his cock. Kitten licking his tip, you used your hands to massage the rest.

“Put it in your mouth,” he moaned, head rolling back as you did as told. “Take it all the way to the back. I'm going to cum down your pretty throat.”

Sinking him fully to the back of your throat brought on a satisfaction that had you whimpering around him. His head forcing you to keep him there, Seonghwa's stream of low curses and desperate whines made you wetter. Tears burned your eyes, and you struggled to breathe through your nose as he blocked your airway. You clung to his thighs, fingers clutching his pants as you struggled to breathe. A few pumps in and out of your mouth caused gurgling and gagging sounds that Seonghwa loved enough to keep doing it. More drool trailed down from your mouth to your chin, dirtying your dress and his nice pants. Seonghwa collected this when he pulled out, and made you suck it off him. Your burning sex tightened for something to grab onto, but you were given nothing. Instead, you had your throat penetrated again.

“Make me…make me cum,” Seonghwa said after a while, guiding your head up and down him freely now. “Your master wants to cum now.”

He gave you free reign at last. You moved your mouth and hands in tandem as you milked his orgasm out of him. It started in shuddering breaths and tensing thighs, before rolling to a tight abdomen and fingers gripping the seat. Hot streaks of cum splattered in your mouth and you swallowed the thick goodness right away. His orgasm fully taking over, Seonghwa released his moans into the air and continued bucking his hips into your face. In the last few waves, he forced your nose right up to his pelvis and spilled directly into your throat. Seonghwa gave you a minute to swallow what he left behind, and get a few deep breaths in before he spoke.

“Show me,” he said.

You parted your lips to show your empty mouth.

“Very good,” he grinned.

Then he kissed you, sloppy mouth and all. Seonghwa cupped your jaw and lifted it enough for him to deepen your kiss. Your pussy still ached for his touch; panties so soaked from your wetness that it stuck to your folds and thinned the cotton material.

“It's my turn now,” he said between kisses, “Let me see how wet you've gotten.”

You laid down longways with your back to the armrest and legs spread. Seonghwa groaned softly when he lifted your dress to see your wet panties. He bent down, hands on your thighs as he lapped on the darkening spot. The constant brushes made you tense up and grip the couch cushions under you. He pushed both sides of your underwear into the middle, separating your lips from your hard clit, and you thought you might cum right there. Singling out your clit through your panties, Seonghwa’s direct licks sent tremors throughout your thighs and legs. He held onto them, keeping them locked in his arms as he continued the torture.

“I almost don’t even need to take these off,” he jested, giving long flat licks to the outer folds. “It’s like you’re not even wearing panties.”

“Because you make me so wet, Master,” you breathed a whimper. Looking down, you saw dark hair curtaining his face between your thighs. He made sure you could see his long tongue slowly tasting you. “So much wetter than either of my other masters do.”

This earned you a few rapid, swirling touches that arched your back. “Is that right?” he said, suspicious of the obvious lie. “I find that hard to believe,” he slipped his thumb past the panty line to your clenching entrance, “My brothers are quite good at making dirty sluts wet.”

“But you do it the best.”

This ego-stroking had him pulling your underwear aside and snaking two fingers inside. Sucking up the mess he’d made, Seonghwa’s fingers pushed in and out with ease. Your eyes fell shut as you savored the tightness building deep in your core. Each time his fingers curled and wiggled inwards, you pictured them against your g-spot right then. Full lips wrapped around your clit, he swirled his tongue up and over it in time with his fingers.

“Master, Master,” you panted, “I’m going to cum. I’m going to-”

“-Hold it for me, Kitten,” he ordered between kisses to your sex, “I haven’t fucked you yet.” He moved his fingers faster, “I’m enjoying fingering and licking you too much to stop now.”

He placed kisses up your inner thighs as his thumb and fingers worked you easily. From years of training, you learned how to withhold your orgasm for a prolonged time. Taking deep breaths, you tried holding your climax as Seonghwa continued fingering you. But, even this became difficult after a while. He withdrew his fingers and spread your juices around your clit while he replaced them with his tongue. Lifting your legs up to your chest, Seonghwa hovered over your lower half to stick his tongue deep inside. You swore he’d somehow made it longer just to tickle your sensitive center. His low moans caused a vibrating sensation that reached your clit and had you tearing up from the desperation.

“Master, please…”

“To cum,” you cried out when he easily slipped his tongue back into your heat. “Please. Please, please…”

“Hm?” he pulled out his tongue, “What is it, Kitten? What do you need?”

“You sound so cute when you beg,” he said, giving his tongue a break to use his fingers. “I’d love to watch Hongjoong make you beg. He’s far crueler than I am,” he smiled at the idea, rapidly rubbing your clit and sticking his fingers back inside. “Keep begging.”

You wept as you kept on begging. Your orgasm threatened to rise up each time he went particularly deep. Tears fell down the corners of your eyes and down your temples as the pressure strengthened. Somehow this demon broke right through your willpower, and had you clawing his expensive furniture. Seonghwa brought you into his lap, and you thought he’d use his cock next, but he didn’t. Instead, he put your back to his chest and kept your legs apart with his knees. Arms around your waist, he continued fingering you as before.

“Such a cute kitten,” he cooed in your ear, pinching your nipple through your thin dress. “Crying and shaking in my arms like this.” He licked a tear that broke through your lash line, “You want to cum so badly, but you want to be a good girl and hold onto it for me.”

It dawned on you that something hard rested between your ass cheeks. Something thick and hardening underneath you. Yes, yes, you wanted that there.

“Not today, love,” he said, almost disappointed. “I have work to do soon.” You whined miserably, and he laughed. “Don’t despair, pet. I’ll let you cum this time. Go on and cum for me.”

Seonghwa pulled out right at the last second, rubbing your clit, as small spurts of clear fluid came out onto the floor. Not too long or too thick, but enough that Seonghwa saw them on the polished floors. Your body seized up in his embrace, quaking thighs and nails digging through his pants. He let out a surprised gasp as you came down. Shaking and taking deep breaths, you rested back against him to enjoy the last bits of pleasure before he pulled away completely.

“I had no idea you could do that,” he said in a smile. “How delightful. I know someone who will enjoy cleaning this up for me…”

You thought he might call on San or Hongjoong. They might have come back early, and are looking for you right now. Except, it wasn’t their names he called.

“Yeosang! Come here!”

Yeosang seemingly appeared from nowhere, standing upright with his hands behind his back as Yunho had hours earlier. His eyes, already big, widened at the erotic sight in front of him. He visibly gulped as he stared down your body.

“You called, sir?” he said in a high pitch, which he covered with a cough.

“Kitten is dirty,” he said, “And I need someone to clean her for me. I’d clean her myself, but I have to go back to work. You understand, I’m sure?”

“I understand completely, sir, but,” he licked his lips, “Surely, you do not wish for me to…She is your pet, not mine. It’s improper for a servant to touch something belonging to his master.”

Seonghwa smiled at his words, “You’re truly one-of-a-kind, Yeosang. This isn’t the first time you’ve enjoyed leftovers, and I cherish you far too greatly to deny you luxuries from time to time. Don’t be shy. Consider this part of your duties for today, hm?”

Seonghwa motioned for you to slide off his lap and moved your legs apart again. Yeosang would never do it. He made his dislike of you obvious by now, and he thinks you’re a “slum slut”. You expected him to reject his master’s gift, and insist he resume his daily routine. He made a few timid strides towards the couch, but kept his distance. He forced himself to focus on your face instead of your messy thighs. Seonghwa, seeing he needed more convincing, finally removed your underwear and tossed them aside.

“Don’t act so above humans, Yeosang,” Seonghwa snickered. “I know you have a preference for them. I remember how you licked that one girl clean after we’d all had a turn with her. I never thought you enjoyed pleasures like that until then. Come and clean my slave for me.”

“If you…insist, Master.”

Yeosang came over and knelt in front of you. His tongue, foreign and new, made soft, timid licks at first. Seonghwa sat beside you, eyes glinting with delight as Yeosang cleaned you with his tongue. You mewled whenever he touched near your clit, the bud becoming sensitive from your recent orgasm. The first few touches remained uncertain and shy until a new gush of your juices broke through. Then Yeosang pulled them apart to thoroughly clean each crevasse. You heard him give a satisfied moan at the taste of you on his tongue. When he finished, he pulled away for you to see the sheen of cum left on his chin and mouth. Seonghwa inspected his work, and you’d admit Yeosang nearly pulled you back into desire.

“Well done, Yeosang, as expected,” Seonghwa said, standing and zipping himself back up. “Kitten is lucky to have a handler willing to do what he can to keep her tidy and clean.” He gazed down to see a distinct bump in Yeosang’s trousers. This amused him rather than upset him. He turned to you, “Kitten, give your handler a hand, won’t you? It’s the least you could do.”

Without bothering to stick around, Seonghwa fixed his tie and put on his suit jacket as he left. Yeosang stood up from the ground, pale cheeks tinged a bright pink that went to his ears. He used his handkerchief to wipe his mouth.

“Do you want me to do it?” you asked, unsure whether he’d take it that far.

“Master Seonghwa has insisted so…” he took a deep breath, “A quick one just to please him.”

“We don’t really have to.”

“I think you know as well as I do that he’ll know if we have or not,” he said sharply. He sat on the couch beside you and undid his trousers, “Don’t dawdle, YN. I have things to do that are more important.”

Yeosang did not have the same length or width as his masters. Simply eating you out gave his length a special kind of red around the tip and shaft. You looked up at him, uncertain if he really wanted this or not. Yeosang, unlike some in the house, made it clear he did not like you.

“What did I just say?” he snapped you from your thoughts with a cold voice. “Get to it, slut. It’s nothing you haven’t already done.” When you did not move, he let out a growl and took your hand. “We don’t have to like one another. There’s nowhere written that we have to share a personal connection to enjoy this. I wasn’t told to pleasure you, but after hearing you last night and licking you clean now…” he seemed reluctant to admit it, swallowing his words before finally saying, “I’m afraid it is all I’ll be thinking about…”

“But you-”

“-Yeosang, are you here? Yunho says we’re to go over-” Jongho’s voice was cut off by a loud gasp. He took in the scene before him, and found it hard to make words. “Yeo…Yeosang, what are you doing? Have you lost your senses completely? The masters will have you whipped for this! Let go of her now before someone sees!”

“Master Seonghwa allowed it,” Yeosang said simply. “She's being difficult. I don't know why. These slum sluts look for any reason to jump on a cock.”

“Don't act like you wouldn't like it,” you spat back at him. Reaching into his lap, you began carefully stroking Yeosang. He gave a shaky breath, arms on the back of the couch. “You've been looking down your nose at me since I got here. You're a slave just like me.” You squeezed the middle hard, and he moaned as his eyes closed. “Why are you so much better?”

“Because I don't give my holes to the highest bidder,” he said through gritted teeth as he watched your hand stroke him.

“You did that when you ended up in this house,” you said, jerking him faster. Clear precum began leaking From him almost right away. “Look at you, already about to burst for me. What's the matter, Yeosang? Can't hold it back? Do you cum too quickly?”

“Fuck you,” he huffed, “Slut.”

“A slut who's about to make you cum,” you retorted.

“Since it's all you know how to do. Even right now…You're jerking me off in front of Jongho, because you're so used to it that you don't care who watches,” he grabbed your hand and made you pick up the pace. “We all watched you through Yunho’s peep holes last night. We watched you get run through like a bitch in a kennel. We saw you cum so many times you barely remembered your own name.”

“And I bet you jerked off to me like the penniless perverts who peek into brothel windows,” you said, gripping him tightly. “You're too fucking poor to buy a woman, and that’s if you could find a slave who’d have you in the first place.”

Yeosang grabbed your chin with his other hand, glaring at you as he spoke, “You think I fucking care if they want it or not? They're just a hole.” He pulled your ear to his lips, “You are just a hole. You're a pretty slutty hole for them and anyone else to fuck. You're lucky they wouldn't let me have you.” He pressed his lips right to your ear, “I'd fuck you so hard and for so long you wouldn't be able to sit for weeks.”

“I doubt it,” you scoffed. “Not with this tiny thing.”

“You better hope they never throw you in the greenhouse,” he said. “The greenhouse whores are fair game. Trust me,” he laughed through teeth, “I'll fuck you-you-you all night if I w-wa-wan’t.”

In a few more pumps, thick white drops shot out in short spurts. Directed at his clean, pressed uniform, it splattered against the black fabric as Yeosang trembled in place. You kept the wave going. You pumped him the same speed, hard and fast, until your arm started burning. When he finished, Yeosang laid back on the couch, sweat beading his brow and chest heaving. You purposefully wiped your sticky hand on his pant leg, which made him growl.

“Oh, I'm sorry, Yeosang,” you said innocently, “Did you make a mess on your nice, clean uniform?”

“Bitch,” he grunted, using a handkerchief to wipe most of the mess. “Like I said, you're lucky they like you.” He zipped himself up and stood from the couch. “If they didn’t, you’d be a mindless hole in the greenhouse.”

“Bye Yeosang,” you beamed, “Hope you can get those stains out.”

Yeosang slammed the door behind him, leaving you and Jongho alone. You spotted the slight bump in his pants. The animosity still stayed in your chest as you said, “Did you have fun watching me too?”

“Huh, what?” Jongho asked, flustered and embarrassed. “Oh, um well, if you… it's nothing uncommon here. We all do that. The Masters don't mind, really.”

You giggled at his awkwardness, “Did you like it though?”

“I did,” he nodded. “I don't like it like Yeosang, but yes, I did, um, you know… enjoy watching you.”

You stood from the couch, feeling the stickiness between your thighs again, and smiled at him. “Maybe your masters will let you have a taste someday.”

“Oh, I don't think they would. I haven't worked here as long as the others.”

“You never know,” you said as you walked past him, “You just might get lucky.”

You walked into Seonghwa’s bathroom alone, shedding off your dress as you waited for the warm water. You hadn't seen him until you'd gotten in the water, inhaling the lavender scent rising from the suds. Jongho sat on a chair in the corner of the room, his cock in his hand and jerking hurriedly. You couldn't help laughing.

“Are you even allowed to watch?” you asked, no longer bothered by it.

“We can watch,” he said, “Not touch.”

“You're just going to sit there and watch me bathe then?” You sat up more in the tub, making sure the suds just barely covered your chest. Lathering them in soap, Jongho groaned at the sight of you touching yourself.

“If it's…okay.”

“I don't mind,” you rose from the water, soap bubbles still clinging to you. “I'm used to being watched all the time.”

So, you lathered yourself in soap as Jongho masturbated in front of you. You supposed if you'd be living in a palace full of horny perverts, you'd enjoy yourself. The thought of having as much demon cock as you wanted sounded like a dream. Even if your masters decided when and who you'd do it with, you knew with the right words or touches, they'd melt in your mouth. It made you feel like the woman you used to be: an ambitious vixen. You’d missed making men drool over you without having to do much of anything; you enjoyed the teasing. You let out soft sighs whenever you felt over a specific spot or brought attention to certain parts of your body. Jongho looked at nothing but you. It was when you jiggled and spread your ass cheeks did he finally cum. Like Yeosang, he dirtied his black slacks with thid strings of white. You felt tempted to clean them with your mouth, wanting to taste the long dick softening in his hand. But, you knew better.

“I'm sorry,” he said quickly, wiping himself with a towel. “I really shouldn't have come here-”

“-Will you at least help me dry off? I forgot to bring a towel,” you cut him off. Jongho grabbed it, then handed it to you. “And it's okay,” you said, getting out to dry off. “I don't mind. I'm used to it.”

“I still shouldn't take advantage of my position over you,” he said. “I don't want you to think I'm that kind of handler. I wouldn't do that to you.’

“Unless our Masters say so, right?”

“Right.”

Just because he looked so sweet and you couldn't help yourself, you drew close and said, “I do hope that happens soon. There are a lot more positions you could have over me.”

“YN…”

You let him have one last peek before leaving the bathroom. You might get in trouble, you might not. You didn't care at the moment. It felt good. For once, you held a bit of power in your hands, and nobody could take it from you.

***

A/N: as you can see, I can't stop myself from adding the other members lmao I hope you enjoyed this one, Hongjoong is one the way and...yeah, you're in for it lol

#pirateeznet #park seonghwa #ateez #ateez fanfiction #seonghwa x reader #seonghwa x you #seonghwa smut #ateez smut #ateez fanfic #park seonghwa smut

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undercover-smutlover · 1 year ago

Text

Captain John Price...🏷️

main masterlist📌

*·˚Don’t forget to reblog, follow, like, and comment on the authors’ or artists’ pages. Show them some love!

*·˚Broken link or @? Pop a note in the comments or my ask box.

Works by @miniwheat77

Sweet: Price is harsh on y/n until a mission goes sideways

Sensitive: The only person reader can confide in is her captain

Maneater + Gaz: Reader is a mechanic on base who takes a break with the boys

Give ’em hell Pt.1: Reader and Price are exposed to a weird chemical

Give ’em hell Pt.2: Repercussions of the weird chemical

Red Lipstick: Reader and Price keep one another company

Works by @captainfern

Lake Of Fire: Price isn’t happy about working with another team

Heart-Shaped Box Pt.1: You help Price feel better

Serve the Servants P.2 + Ghost: The aftermath involving Ghost

Breed: You and Price meet up off base

Marigold Pt.1: Price asks you to meet him upstairs

Marigold Pt.2: Crying becaouse you missed him

Unhappily-Married!Price x Nanny!Reader Pt.1 and Pt.2

Works by @halcyone-of-the-sea

Songs That Sound Like Sea-Foam: Fisherman Price meets an unexpected person

Our Remains: You are hiding something big from John

Lions and Ibexes: Your voice cuts through and John’s shoulders sag under a non-existent weight.

See No Evil Pt.1 and Origami Boats Pt.2: But you’d been hurt because he had been too late. Nearly bled out.

I’ll Take the Night Shift: It doesn’t matter what I feel…Where is my John?

Works by @xyziiix

ARDOUR: He could already hear the pleading edge in your voice

Three Is A Crowd: Well your Captain always liked proving you wrong

Works by @the-californicationist

He Opens the Mail and Part 2: It was hard to concentrate when he was nearby.

Wonderland: He chuckled, and you enjoyed seeing his eyes shine with his laughter

Works by @charliemwrites

(Re)organized Crime: In general, you’re like a breath of fresh air. A smiley little charm of colour and delicacy in his world

Squeak 'Em If You Got 'Em

Works by @fireya-x

Champagne Dreams

When Lilacs Bloom

The Wolf and The Nightingale

Price Eating You Out by @catsnkooks: Too blissed out to notice a guest

Civillian Reader Is Hurt by @lvlyghost: She believed he would save her. And that was enough

Jealous by @stormiwaves: “I like it when you’re jealous”

Angel of Small Death Pt.1 by @whynot-tryit: Price hires a team medic

Not Meant to Be Here, But Glad You Are by @paranoid-borderline-insane: You need to remember all the tips John gave you to survive

Breaking and Entering Pt.1 and Reprieve Pt.2 by @sprout-fics: No place safer in the world than with him

Doll by @blingblong55: It started as innocent stares

No Hero, Just Me by @firsttimewriter92: Price rescues reader from an abduction

Duty Over Heart by @a-small-writer-in-a-big-world: Your lives were forever changed afterwards

Million Dollar Man by @qilinxingg: John gave a satisfied smile as his arms tightened around your small body

Price’s Young Housewife by @moongreenlight: Weekly manicures and pedicures that he’s put his card on file for

My Girls by @bearieio: happy just being able to share moments with your 3 favorite people

Hell on Earth by @ghostlywhiskey: His demeanor and lack of response to your attitude caught you off guard

Designer Dress by @halfmoth-halfman: You can’t think of a better place to start your new life

I Think I Might’ve Inhaled You by @agentmarvel: It eats at him daily, knowing his own indecisiveness is the root of anguish for both of you

Nobody Does It Like You Do by @bunnyreaper: In his embrace, firm and reassuring, you might actually believe him

Spread Your Wings by @crashandlivewrites: “Besides, I find my scene partner enjoys it more when there’s a lot more sensual physical contact involved.”

A Warm Heart by @flowermiist: That clicks in John’s head, it really was you and he was almost amused to say the least.

Soulmate AU Part 1 and Part 2 by @shotmrmiller: your vision distorts with the tears that threaten to spill and bite your bottom lip to stop it from trembling.

To The Flame Pt. 1, Pt.2, Pt.3, Pt.4, Pt.5, Pt.6, Pt.7, Pt.8, Moving Day, Afternoon Coffee, Seeing Shadows, A Drink From Her Cup: by @lunarvicar

Dangerous Pursuit by @gloomwitchwrites: The two of you will either close the distance or end this entanglement in blood.

The Prowl by @cordeliawhohung

Elephant in the Room Pt.1, Pt.2 by @penelopepine

Mafia!Price Pt.1, Pt.2 by @lovemebutleavemewild

Blowing off Steam by @yeyinde

New Pen Pal by @sherriesherbet

Call me Captain, Captain by @highlandhour

Price’s Assistant Pt.1, Pt.2, Pt.3 by @angel-eyes-and-devil-hearts

The Favourite by @inkbybambi

Don’t Poke The Bear by @sirenmoth

Didn’t Have Time by @highlandhour

She’s With Me by @evermoreal

Business Call by @evilgwrl

Captain's Good Girl by @uhohdad

John Price and The Girl Next Door by @eowynstwin

Price x New Assistant by @sunni-stuff

“I’m Tired.” by @tojisun

Humor Me (Even When it’s Ruining Me) by @pricegouge

Surprise Pt.1 and Pt.2 by @yourloverslost

Soccer Coach John by @i-love-you-just-the-same

Dollhouse by @lay-z

Dividers by @cafekitsune

#undercover-smutlover #call of duty #modern warfare #cod smut #task force 141 #captain #captain price #john price #captain john price #favorite fics #fic recs #fluff #slow burn #smut #angst #x reader

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vixen7243 · 7 months ago

Text

Lurking in the Shadows Pt.2

Husband!John Price X AFAB!Reader|Obsessed!Ghost X AFAB!Reader

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

MDNI!!

John was no blind man, he knew how beautiful and young his wife is and arguably way out of his league, he was well aware of that fact. The day he met you he knew he was a goner and also knew he was going to make you his no matter what it took. He really thank what ever higher power there was that you were just as smitten with him, falling into his grasp easily, letting his manipulative actions and jealousy never scare you away. You were his everything, which made it very easy for him to propose to you and give you everything he had, spoiling you and treating you like a princess. He loved getting you dresses, even if you only ever mostly walk around in his clothes feeling more comfortable that way, only putting on his favorite dresses for when he comes back home from missions or your special date nights.

Without saying, when John had told you that he was bringing his lads home with him after a rather taxing mission you put on one of his most favorite dresses, red with white polka dots, something that truly made you feel like the little housewife that John prided you to being, which you reveled in when he would carry you to bed burying his head between your thighs praising you for all the work you do around the house while he's gone and still working a full time job. Slipping on your wedges you greeted his team with the biggest smile while clinging onto John's arm. John was beaming while watching his men gape at you, and with more time you hovered around them catering to all of them he noticed their embarrassed shifted trying to hide their erections anytime you would get closer. That first night back John folded you into your guy's bed, your moans being muffled either by his mouth or from you shoving you mouth over a pillow.

Following the meeting between you and his team, you kept a watchful eye over his lieutenant, whose eyes tracked you around the house, Soap and Gaz's lust for his wife was open but respectful due to the fact that you were their captain's wife. There was once day when he had invited them all over that Simon had gone to the 'bathroom' but was gone a little too long, getting up, John quietly climbed the stairs, eyes trained on his room as he saw a shadow move, standing silently he watched as Simon bunched up a pair of your underwear, his other hand cupping his crotch. Making a move to get down the hall and hide around a corner into a spare room, John watched as Simon quickly went into the bathroom. Chuckling himself John made his way back downstairs.

Since then, John watched as Simon followed you around like a desperate puppy, positive that if he had a damn tail it would be wagging every time you would give him any appreciation and attention. Enjoying the little moments of witnessing Simon try to play house with you, John stay silent letting his lieutenant continue to play make believe till one night he heard Simon moaning your name in his spare room. Walking up to the door he leaned closer and listened, turning quickly at the sound of your hushed voice from down the hall. "John? Honey what are you doing?"

"Shh." John held his finger up to his mouth, putting your hand over your mouth, you quietly made your way over standing by him and leaned with him wondering what he was trying to listen to and that's when you heard it too. Simon grunting and moaning out your name, a soft whimper following, looking up wide eyed at John, the two of you stayed silent, looking away from him you bit your lip. John smirked looking down at you, you were in one of his shirts and nothing else, reaching his hand down he slipped it up the front cupping your mound making you gasp and grasp his forearm. Putting his finger back up to his lips, his smile still present, John swiped his middle finger through your cunny, your hips flinching at the motion. John made slow movements with his middle finger around your clit, feeling your arousal slowly wetten his fingers. You stepped closer to him pouting while reaching a hand out to his shoulder trying to pull him down to kiss, slotting your lips over his you heard Simon grunt your name out making you moan into John, moving your hips with him. Pulling back you felt John push a finger in, making you push into his chest trying to muffle yourself, shuffling your feet apart you gave him more room, then pushed one of your hands into the waist band of his sweats grabbing his chub, swiping your thumb over his tip mimicking the movement of his fingers thrusting into your cunny. The sound of Simon moaning to you was making you dizzy, quietly wishing the door was open so the both of you could watch.

John leaned down, his mouth right next to your ear, he could feel your cunt tightening around his fingers, rolling your clit under his thumb, "Say his name and I'll let you cum."

Rolling your head back and then leaning it against the door to hear Simon whimper your name out, closing your eyes your hand squeezed around the base your walls spasming around his fingers, "Fuck, Simon." You moaned quietly John quickly covering your mouth and using his hooked fingers in your cunt guided you to your shared room before closing the door and leaning into you against it as he buried his fingers deep into you again grazing his fingers against your gummy walls.

"Again darling, come on."

You whine looking up to him, hesitant before feeling his hand slow down, clenching down onto his fingers you arched into his hand, "Hmm, Simon, don't stop." John groaned feeling you cum on his fingers, leaning down kissing you.

"Good girl." John took you to bed making you come again wrapped around his cock, making you moan Simon's name again.

After the two of you got comfortable in bed, you drew little patterns over his chest, "John?" Feeling the vibrations of him humming to you, you flattened your hand into the hair on his chest, "You aren't mad about Simon moaning my name? ... Or that I was getting turned on from it?"

John couldn't help the chuckle that came from him as he rubbed his hand along your side, "Darling, if I was mad about it, I definitely wouldn't have stuffed my fingers into your cunt getting you to cum while moaning his name. It's fine, you looked cute anyways blushing, listening to him fuck his hand, probably wishing it was your cunt."

Pushing up he could tell you were scowling, "Don't rile me up again John, otherwise you'll have to take responsibility."

"Let me do just that."

---

Since then you and John purposefully made perfect little moments for Simon to get alone time with you, especially being easier when Gaz got a girlfriend and didn't come over as often, and eventually Soap doing the same, but due to the fact that he was trying to find him a girlfriend like you. Simon not caring to look from anyone else, mind consumed with just you.

After long talks over the phone, John and you had come to an agree about tagging Simon into your guys relationship, which built up to tonight.

Simon felt ridged as he couldn't look away from you or John, eyes transfixed at the sight of cum sliding and pool below you.

"Simon." Snapping his eyes back up to you, your sweet voice calling him in, "Come here." Looking to John, he nudged the door open, stepping in, swallowing the lump in his throat when your and John's eyes looked down at the cum spot on his sweats. "Oh, you waisted it all." Feeling John's fingers dragged lightly on your inner thigh, you shivered, "Aren't you going to come any closer?"

"Well then, don't keep her waiting, eh." John dragged his fingers back up your thigh, watching Simon make 4 quick steps to the edge of the bed, yeah, he was your puppy, his eyes watching you, wandering down to your swollen cunny.

Resting your fingers down to your cunt, you spread your lips for him moaning from the sensitivity, "Come here Simon." His eyes glanced to John for a moment before looking back to you and getting up onto the bed and kneeling at the edge, as your fingers swiped through the mess of you and John, you pushed up from John, keeping your sticky fingers up, making your way to Simon, grabbing hold of his bare shoulder you raised your fingers to his lips, "Clean them for me please." Simon knew he was wrong for this, not only would he be tasting you but he would be tasting John as well, but he couldn't pass this up, dragging his tongue up your fingers he took them into his mouth groaning around them, his tongue wrapping around your digits, eyes rolling as you pushed your fingers deeper into his mouth. "So good Simon, do you like it?" Your voice was teasing but he didn't care, nodding his head around your fingers his eyes darted down as you grabbed his wrist guiding his hand towards you mound.

You pulled your hand from his mouth, holding the back of his neck, bringing him back with you as you fell back into the sheets, head on your pillow ass in the wet spot of yours and John's cum. Pulling him in to a kiss, your tongue pushed past his lips, his tongue pushing against yours taking over the kiss, all his pent up emotions and desires being poured into it. Feeling your soaked cunt with his fingers he groaned into your mouth, shoving two fingers into you pumping in making John's cum gush around his fingers to drip out. Pulling back from you Simon, kissed your cheeks, jaw and then down to your chest, suckling your nipple into his mouth, jerking when he felt John's big hand on the back of his head pushing him more into your chest. Looking back up to you, you were blissed out, just letting Simon explore, taste and feel you, keeping his pace he continued scissoring his fingers into you, tongue swirling your nipple.

Simon felt John's hand slide up slight, and start to push down, "Clean her up before you do anything more." You moaned arching your back ever so slightly at what John is telling Simon to do.

"Please Si?" Simon couldn't say no to that, relenting, he let John guide his head down to between your thighs, laying flat on the bed, wrapping his lips around your clit, before dragging his finger out from you and then sucking his fingers clean, looking up to you holding the eye contact as he started dipping his tongue into your core, John's cum invading his taste buds making his cock twitch, pushing his fingers back into you, he kept flexing his fingers scooping the cum and bringing it to his mouth, groaning when your fingers interlocked with John's in his hair tugging him more into you. "I'm going to cum already. I'm so sensitive Si, don't stop." Moaning into you as he started to taste your sweet juices dripping onto his chin, coating the sides of his mouth as he was swallowing everything coming out of you. Twisting slightly you cried out, your thighs squeezing around Simon's head, pushing up and against his mouth you came.

Relaxing your legs around his head, Simon had made to move back up your body, but John's firm grip on his head kept him there, grunting as Simon continued to eat you out, John's death grip pushing Simon into your cunt more. Crying slightly you tried to push John's hand from Simon's head, but couldn't get the strength to, your breath leaving you as Simon's grunts and whimpers against your slit making you roll your eyes feeling like white hot pokers were stabbing your gut as you gushed over his mouth again, a strangled, guttural groan tear through your throat. Pulling his hand back John leaned back down by you, "God darling, you look so beautiful coming apart like that. You going to let Simon bury his cock in you, refill this greedy hole with his cum?"

Simon caught his breath as he sat up watching as you spread your legs to give him space to scoot closer up your body, shoving his sweats down before relocking his lips with yours, making you taste yourself and John on his tongue. Simon guided his cock into your swollen dripping cunt, the both of you moaning as he pushed himself all the way in to the hilt holding still burning every second to him memory, the feel of your tight cunt squeezing him making sure he practically stays buried inside of you. Cupping your cheek Simon's heart swelled, as much as his mind had been play ruthless tricks with him he knew that even if this was some sick past time for you and John to use him in your marital bed to spice things up he would burn every inch of your body into his brain, the feel of your body pressed against him and under him, your moans of pleasure ringing in his ears. Grinding down into you, his pubic bone pushing sweetly into your clit, he had started to give slow thrusts into your spent cunt, your gummy walls already starting to spasm around him, making his cock twitch.

Whimpering against your open mouth Simon grabbed you hand pushing it into the pillows by your head, locking his fingers with yours, "Y/N, fuck, cum, please, cum for me." You looked into his eyes, locking your legs around his waist feeling the head of his cock against your cervix pushing with each thrust more against it, "So long, fuck, you're all that I can think about lovie, please, cum, let me feel it please." He was desperate, needy, begging you, something he wasn't used to, but for you, he would gravel at your feet for even a second of a chance to get you to just glance at him. Sliding your hand into his blonde hair you kissed him, his feelings pouring into each thrust, each swipe of his tongue in your mouth, moving your hips with him, the two of you got lost in your own world as Simon groaned cuming in you, halting his hips flesh against yours, your walls tightening around him as you gushed around him moaning with him.

Pulling back, Simon huffed looking down at you, your eyes droopy as you smiled up at him before looking to the side, following your gaze he looked at John who was stroking his cock. Pull out of you Simon was moving to give a little space for you and John when John had suddenly grabbed his arm and pulled him to lay down by you, caught by surprise Simon stared up at him as he felt John's hand dig into his pocket taking out your underwear and handing it to you. Simon watching as you smiled at John and swiped the material through your folds groaning before turning on your side to looking at Simon, "Open up." Simon's mind shut off, he had no clue what they were going to do but he listened, opening his mouth slightly you started pushing your underwear past his lips, he could taste his cum as you held it there, dragging your fingers down his jaw trancing the outline. Before he could fully process that he felt a big hand wrap around his cock, jolting he looked down and watched, shocked as John started jerking him off.

Grabbing his chin, you made him look at you, "I want you to cum again for me, but I'm all fucked out, you'll let John work you to another won't you?" Grunting around your underwear he rolled his eyes, his cock twitch to life as John continued, unrelenting as he made Simon near another orgasm. Simon looked back into your eyes, fuck, he was doomed, wrapped our your finger he would do so much as to let John jerk him off at a chance now to make you happy, thrusting his hips up to meet John's hand Simon continued to whimper bending to your mercy Simon arched up bending a knee, gripping onto your wrist that was holding his chin Simon came, reaching down to hold John's hand still as he continued milking the rest of his spend onto his stomach.

"Such a good boy." You whispered kissing his temple, gently pulling your underwear from his mouth, then running your thumb over his roughened bottom lip, kissing his lips softly you scooted closer to him as John grabbed a hand towel cleaning the both of you up before turning the light off and curling into you from behind, "Just sleep here yeah? This is where you belong now, okay?" Simon didn't question any of it as he laid onto his side wrapping around you, sandwiching you between the two.

Part 3

^^^

Just picture John and Simon yeah?😘 Hopes this was good, sorry, been working on this for the past two days😣 Was having hard time not to just mentally drift wishing that I was truly being sandwiched between them.😫🥵😵‍💫💕

#call of duty #task force 141 #john price #simon ghost riley #x reader #john price smut #smut #18+ mdni #simon riley smut #ghost x reader #john price x reader #husband!price #throuple #male whimpering #needy wh0re #subby puppy #cocky john price #jealous of a fictional character that is supposed to be me but isn't me that is getting the treatment i would kill for

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rookiesbookies · 11 months ago

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Greek God!Price x MaidenFem!Reader pt 2

Masterlist is pinned as always and please submit any requests to my inbox I dont bite

She had always been nervous around men, in her village they had always seemed rude and misogynist. Women were a commodity, their value based on purity and age. But Price was different. He treated her with respect and tenderness, making her feel safe and cherished. It was a new experience for her, and she couldn't help but feel nervous about it.

As she lay there, wide awake, she couldn't help but notice Price's movements in his sleep. He had gone from a respectful distance to spooning her side, his warm body pressed against hers. It was both comforting and unsettling at the same time.

She had agreed to spend the night in his bed, a decision that made her anxious. Changing in his master bathroom, she had put on one of his white undershirts that barely covered her upper-mid thigh. She worried about him seeing her exposed, about her own vulnerability in this unfamiliar situation.

The clock on the wall ticked away, reminding her of the late hour. She shivered, feeling the coldness of the room seep into her bones. Despite Price's warm body heat and the thick blankets, she couldn't find comfort. Her mind was preoccupied with thoughts of her nipples showing through the shirt or the possibility of her underwear being revealed.

But amidst her restlessness, she couldn't help but appreciate Price's gentle and kind nature. It was a stark contrast to her past experiences with the men who had tried to court her - often older and looking for a young housewife to act as a slave due to their wealth. She found herself slowly letting go of her fears and embracing the unfamiliar warmth that he offered.

Price stood out among the men she had encountered. He possessed a genuine gentlemanly demeanor that made her wonder if all gods were like him.

As her mind aimlessly drifted, she couldn't help but become fixated on Price's physique. Questions began to swirl in her thoughts, particularly about what lay beneath that thick sweater he now slept in. Were his muscles well-defined, sculpted from hours of hard work and dedication? Or were they hidden beneath a layer of softness, adding a touch of comfort to his appearance? The curiosity grew stronger, fueling her imagination as she envisioned the possibilities. It was a tantalizing mystery, one that she couldn't help but ponder, wondering if one day she would have the chance to uncover the truth.

As her mind wandered, it delved even deeper into his physical attributes, specifically focusing on what he possessed between his legs. Questions arose about its thickness, length, girth, and whether it was thin or substantial. She pondered whether he preferred a clean-shaven look or if his hair was coarse yet well-maintained, similar to his facial hair. Curiosity arose about the presence of freckles and whether it leaned towards one direction or the other. She wondered if it was pale or tan, what color the tip was. These thoughts consumed her mind, leaving her with a multitude of unanswered questions.

Her cheeks flushed with warmth as she realized the direction her thoughts were taking. It felt criminal. It was inappropriate to think of a man in such a way, especially someone like Price who was so sweet and such a gentleman. She began to question her own feelings towards him, fearing that she might be falling for a man who deserved a woman equally as remarkable to be his eternal partner. She pondered the qualities that would make a woman worthy of Price's affection. Would she need to possess extraordinary beauty, intelligence, or perhaps a combination of both?

The weight of her own self-doubt began to settle upon her, as she questioned whether she could ever measure up to the standards she imagined Price had. Perhaps he was waiting for some magic spark to ignite, maybe Eros to strike them with arrows to let him know it was meant to be or a letter hand-written from Aphrodite or Hera with approval. Something he seemingly so desired based on his adamant refusal of the other sacrificial women he considered for brides. He even said it himself, he wanted someone closer to his physical age to keep for an eternity as a partner, not just a wife.

Lost in her thoughts, she yearned for a sign, a glimpse into Price's true nature. She longed to know if he was as extraordinary as he appeared, or if her infatuation was merely a figment of her imagination, the facade of a god. Only time would reveal the answers she sought, and until then, she would continue to question her own worthiness of a god like Price.

He shifted again in his sleep, pulling her closer. His beard tickling against her neck, he took a deep breath. She couldn't help but think about the advice her friends had given her as a teenager. They had told her that men could determine if they wanted to marry a girl by the end of their first date. As she lay there, she wondered if the dinner they had just shared counted as a date. Did it hold any significance or was it just a casual outing with his friends? Her mind raced as she rubbed her legs together and nervously bit her lip. Being in such close proximity with a man was a new experience for her.

Suddenly, he began to stir in his sleep, a soft grunt escaping his mouth. Startled, she realized he was awake. "Why aren't you asleep?" he questioned, his voice filled with curiosity. "Humans need a good deal of sleep compared to us gods."

Her heart skipped a beat as she tried to come up with a response. "I... I couldn't sleep," she stammered, her voice barely audible. "I guess I'm just not used to... this."

He looked at her intently, his eyes filled with understanding. "It's okay," he said softly, reaching out to gently brush a strand of hair behind her ear. "We can take things slow. There's no rush."

As he held her close, she felt a warm and comforting feeling, giving her hope for a happy future. Could this amazing man be the one she would marry? And, by some lucky chance, did he really understand her deepest desires?

Finally, she drifted into a peaceful slumber, feeling a sense of tranquility and optimism. The man she had discovered, whom she might be falling in love with, had filled her heart with hope and affection. The thought of marrying him brought her immense joy and contentment. He was truly remarkable, and she could only wish that he felt the same way about her. Thankfully, it seemed like he did, and that realization filled her with even more happiness.

#cod x reader #call of duty #captain price #john price #captain johnathan price #john price x reader #captain john price #captain john price x reader #captain john price x female reader

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itgetsdarksometimes35 · 5 years ago

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Small Price to Pay

Warnings: Non con, dub con, forced marriage, forced pregnancy, little bit of childbirth, slight depression, 18+

Word count: 2,973

Pairings: Bucky Barnes X Reader

Summary: Reader is the youngest girl in her family and her father is looking to sell his daughter into marriage next. She’s able to fend off majority of the men who come to court her, but then a mysterious man with eyes the color of the ocean comes into the picture. Money is a small price to pay for a happy life after all.

~ indicates a time change

Prompts: The song “Light” by Sleeping at last

A/N: This is for @marvelfulxbabes challenge that I’m so thrilled to be apart of. I’m sorry for the hiatus, school is always way busier during the 2nd semester, but I have a bunch of stuff coming out. As for my series they may take a while, so I’m sorry if you were invested in those. They are coming though, I miss them deeply. Anyway, hope you enjoy :)

Ps: Thinking about part 2 to this, whatcha think? ;)

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Your father was a douchebag. Plain and simple. He had bought your mother from your grandfather and he had sold your older sisters to men twice their age. Now that you were 18, it was your turn. You were extremely close to your sister, Anne. She was the third oldest and the last to leave you alone with your two younger half brothers. She was the most like you and always fought back the men who came to bid on her like property. Sadly, a man came by and easily found it charming. She always said to never give in, figure out what they want and do the opposite. You’d be successful only until dad finds a man who doesn’t give a damn at all. They were out there, but your father had failed nearly a thousand times already.

Since your birthday, at least three men have come to your house to try to court you. In fact, that’s what your birthday present was, a rich man named Tony Stark there to court you. He worked as a CEO on the upper east side for a well known tech company. He was loaded, and your father wanted in. You figured out Tony like proper and well spoken ladies, someone to show off at his expensive Galas filled with people who spoke seven different languages. So, you acted a slob. Spilled your fancy tea all over yourself and his prestine suit, mispoke several words, use vulgar language, and acted painfully stupid. Tony marched right out and your father made you kneel in rice until your knees bled. It was worth the pain.

It’s been six months and your father was unsuccessful. You have never seen your sisters since their marriage and you missed them, especially Anne. You didn’t want to end up a housewife somewhere with no say in anything. When your mom died your father quickly remarried, it was as if your mother meant nothing to him. You’d be damned if that happened to you. If you were going to get married, it’d be for love.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Wake up, you have a visitor.” Your father shook you awake. You rubbed your eyes and looked to your father, he was already smoking a cigar even though it was 8am. You groaned and got out of bed, walking to your closet, pulling out a t-shirt and jeans.

“Oh no, you can go out like that.” Your father pointed to your sleep shorts that showed off your legs and cupped your ass perfectly; your top was a thin tank top that showed your hardening nipples. You rolled your eyes and started walking to your door, shouldering your way past your father.

You walked into the living room and saw a man standing there with his back to you facing the window. His arms were folded and you saw one sparkling in the light, he had a metal arm. You gasped at it and stopped in your tracks. The man turned to you and the corners of his mouth threatened to rise. He was hot. His hair was pinned out of his face in a man bun, he wore navy blue dress pants and a white button up dress shirt that had he rolled to his elbows. His eyes were as bright as the diamonds the strange men bring to you in order to try to buy your love.

“Mr. Barnes, my daughter. Daughter, Mr. Barnes.” The way your father said daughter bit at your nerves. He knew introducing you with a title rather than your name made you feel inferior, as if that’s the only thing there was to know about you. You glared at your father before turning back to Mr Barnes. He extended his flesh hand to you.

“Pleased to meet you. I doubt your name is daughter, though.”

He smiled at you, but it didn’t meet his eyes. You took his hand and faked a smile. “Mmmhm, it’s not. Y/n will do just fine.” Mr. Barnes shook your hand before gesturing to the couch.

“Take a seat, let’s get to know each other.” At that your father excused himself, but not before casting you a warning look. You smirked back at him before taking your seat next to Mr. Barnes. “So, how old are you?”

“97, just a few years younger than you.” You bit at him. You always lead with sarcasm, if they laughed they were serious and you’d have to become boring. If they didn’t that means you had to continue being “unladylike.”

Mr. Barnes eyebrows shot up before he laughed a bit. It wasn’t real, he was uncomfortable. He was easy to read, you had this in the bag.

“Alright, I see why you’re so uptight. I wouldn’t like it if men were to come in and try to buy me either. Believe it or not, I used to hate this practice.”

“Yet you’re willingly here and seem to be enjoying it.” You cocked your head to the side, your smart mouth making him shift a bit.

“My younger sisters have been victims of this trade,” Mr.Barnes ignores you, “I always said I wouldn’t do it. As time has gone on, no woman of value isn’t being bargained off. You should be lucky your father cares for you so much, the ones who aren’t cared for are just thrown out into the world.”

“Grateful? My father sold my sisters like livestock for a couple millions and I haven’t seen any of them in years! This “bargaining” system is destroying families and is never created equal. What do the men and young boys suffer? What do they lose? They can still go see their family. They still have freedom.” Your voice raised, the audacity that these men had always blew your mind. They didn’t understand and never would, so why did they try to sit there and try to make you? They saw how unhappy their sisters and mothers were, yet they continued on with this bullshit for generations. If you ever were married off and had a son, you’d beg him to stop the cycle. You’d try even harder to protect your daughter.

Mr. Barnes sighed and sat up a bit more. “I’m sorry doll, I didn’t mean to upset you. I meant it as a compliment, honest.” You crossed your arms and glared at him. He looked apologetic but you didn’t care. You weren’t here to be nice, you were there to survive as long as you possibly could.

“Well, Mr. Barnes, your intentions don’t seem to have worked out, did they?” You raised your chin and said his name with a poison that even stunned you. There’s no way he’s gonna want you.

“My real name is James, sorry for the formicality,” Mr.Barnes was suddenly smiling and standing up. He crossed to the door that separated the living room and the main area in your house. Where your father was sitting on the other side. What just happened?

You lookedon with curious eyes as James opened the door and called for your father. He was still smiling and your father rushed over, angry eyes finding yours before turning soft at James when he saw his beaming face. “We have a deal, sir” He shook your father’s hand while your jaw dropped. Fuck.

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Two million dollars. That’s how much you’re worth apparently. You don’t know where you went wrong, but being a brat was only going to work so many times. James apparently didn’t mind at all that you had a mouth, in fact he was telling your father how much he loved it. He said while looking for a wife he pretended to be proper so that when the girls acted the way they thought he wanted them to, boring in his opinion, he knew they weren’t for him. You, on the other hand, spoke your mind and were feisty. It ignited a flame James believed was dead.

You looked on with glossed over eyes as you say your belongings being packed away and set in a moving truck. It was mostly irreplaceable objects such as photos and your favorite clothing. James promised to buy you new things and to add a new wardrobe. He must’ve been loaded because after dropping that much he still promised so much more. Lucky girl you were.

You signed a paper while a ring decorated your finger and numbly kissed James on the lips to seal your marriage. He wore a similar band on his left hand finger. “Congratulations, may your marriage be filled with joy, blah blah blah.” Your father blabbered while he sucked on another cigar and counted the money James had given him.

James took you to his house. It was a humble suburban home on the outskirts of New York, much different than your penthouse in the city. There was a white picket fence and freshly trimmed grass decorating the outside. “We’re home, doll.” James cut the engine of his BMW, putting his hand on your thigh. You changed into a short blue summer dress that complimented your skin tone and brown wedges. You looked like your mom and every other dutiful wife you’d known.

You stepped out of the car and looked up at the house that you’d be spending the rest of your life. The sky was clear and beautiful but you felt the depressive clouds that rained over cul de sac, drenching their housewives. The weight these women held, loving the men who cheated, hated, and abused them. James came up behind you and pulled your waist so that you leaned on him. He kissed your cheek and looked into your eyes. “I can’t wait for us to fill the rooms in the house. I can see it now, two kids a boy and a girl. Maybe more if it feels right.” Your stomach churned at the thought. You didn’t want kids with him. But it didn’t matter, when you signed your name you signed away your happiness. The light had gone out in your soul.

“Yes dear.”

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Two years into your marriage felt like a decade. Every day was the same: wake up, make breakfast, see James off to work, clean, shower and look pretty for James, cook dinner, welcome James home, eat dinner and ask James about his day, have sex, and go to sleep. The sex at first was painful and he was never gentle. He was never lovey dovey, never brought flowers, just wanted a one-sided relationship.

You always went to visit his family and friends on holidays or you hosted his family and friends at your house. You hadn’t seen your family and, even though you hated your dad and never really talked with your stepmom and brothers, you missed them for the similarity. You were missing your brothers growing up, one was three when you left the other was six. You asked once to see your sisters and James merely shrugged it off. “You would only bother them” he reasoned, “They’re busy running a household like you. They don’t have time for useless small talk.”

Today it wasn’t your alarm that woke you up. It was the vomit that was rising in your stomach, pushing its way out of your mouth. You ran to your bathroom and puked in the toilet. You continued gagging and dry heaving when everything was out of your tummy. James walked in rubbing the sleep out of his eyes and yawning. “What’s wrong, honey?”

“N-nothing, dear. I’m sorry for waking you.”

James shook his head and walked closer to you. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah, I think I just ate something.”

James frowned. “We eat the same thing, have for years. You always skip lunch because it ruins your appetite for dinner. I’m not feeling sick.” His lips showed signs of cracking a smile as he bit his finger, pretending to ponder what could be going on.

You knew what he meant. It had been two years of sensless fucking. Like you had held out on marriage your body had held out on pregnancy, but just like your marriage to james, your body had come to a point that it could no longer fight.

James opened up the medicine cabinet behind the mirror and pulled out a pink box. He reached in and pulled out to reveal two white sticks. He handed them to you. “Take them.”

You reached out and took the sticks, starting to pull your pants down so you could pee. Thirty minutes later, James’ phone timer rang and he looked at the sticks. His face scrunched as pure joy took over his features. He held the sticks out to you. “We’re pregnant!”

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You had just gotten done with your baby shower and you were now sitting down for a break before you would get up and start cleaning. You rubbed your sore back and nine month old belly. Baby boy was bigger than normal, James said it was because of his special genes. James was saying bye to his best friend, Steve, before he shut the door and turned to you. Of course, nobody you were close with was at the party, just James’ family and close friends. He did say he had phones your father to tell him the news, but he failed to send even a card. You had grown to not expect much or feel sad for the neglect you got emotionally from your husband or your father.

James made his way to you, he was still smiling. “Not much longer, doll. We’ll be meeting this big guy any day now.” He rubbed your belly before grabbing your hand, pulling you up to stand despite your pain. “Dance with me.” You both danced to music that wasn’t playing and you felt your son kick. You smiled, the light you thought you’d lost was slowly lighting again.

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The contractions were horrible. Nothing you had ever felt before. You were screaming and clutching James’ hand as you were being wheeled into the hospital room. Nurses and doctors poked and prodded at your skin, asking you questions you weren’t capable of answering due to the immense pain you were feeling. Your legs were propped up and James moved closer to you, still holding your hand. The doctor came to stand between your legs before sitting in a chair. He nodded to James while you sobbed out as a new wave of pain washed over you. “Alright, Mrs. Barnes, push.”

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Your schedule was thrown off balance a bit, you had a newborn now. You still did the majority of the things the same, wake up, make breakfast, get James Jr, or Bucky as a nickname, and feed him, see James off to work, clean up, bathe and dress Bucky, clean and dress yourself up, make lunch because it was important for breastfeeding now, walk around to settle Bucky for a nap, cook dinner, greet James, feed Bucky, get him ready for bed, have sex with James, and sleep yourself.

You loved your son unconditionally, he slept in the crib next to you and James’ bed for now. “Easier access” James had said. You didn’t mind, you were closer with the love of your life.

James held your wrists in one hand as he thrusted into you, his hips crushing into yours at fast and hard rhythm that was sure to leave bruises. His moans and skin slapping skin was the only thing you could hear in the room, Bucky was sleeping soundly.

“Fuck, your pussy is so good for me. Still so tight, even after Bucky. Shit I’m gonna cum, gonna fill you up so you can give me a girl. Can you do that for me?”

“Yes, James.”

“Mmm, good girl. My good girl.” James finished inside you, grunting in the process. He rolled over and released a long breath. “You’re such a good mom, doll. Such a good wife.” He sleepily rambled. You hummed in response and rolled over to face Bucky, watching as his tiny hands scrunched into fists and his steady breaths caused his chest to rise and fall. His light blue and grey onesie and matching hat barely fit, he was growing faster than you thought any baby did. You’d ask James to buy more soon. Maybe he would let you go too, picking out baby clothes for your son would make you so happy. You’d work towards it, make James’ favorite meal and might even throw in a few blowjobs.

Bucky’s face started to contort and he soon started to fuss, his pacifier falling out of his mouth. You looked at the time and knew it was time for his feeding. He ate a lot but that’s just what a growing boy like him needed, plenty of food. You picked him up before he could wake James and guided him to your nipple. He stopped crying and started sucking, looking at you with big blue eyes like his father. You let you fist wrap around your finger as you slightly rocked and quietly hummed. Bucky was the light you needed in your life. He made your soul glow again, and he gave you hope for the future. Hidden in the dressure was money you were slowly stealing from James. Five dollars here, another ten there. By this time next year you’d have enough money to leave with your son Bucky. You’d leave with your sisters to live in a house Anne had found in Germany.

Bucky let go of your breast and cooed. He looked at you with sleepy eyes as he let out a small yawn. You smiled. “With every heartbeat I have left, I will defend your last breath.” You promised your son. He was the light, and you felt you could sleep peacefully at last knowing he was right there with you.

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@jtargaryen18

#marvelfulxbabeswritingchallenge #dark!bucky barnes #dark!bucky barnes x reader #non con #dub con #dark!marvel #dark!mcu

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godsofmonster · 5 years ago

Text

Florida Kilos ≽ I.

Reader x Bangtan- Drug Cartel

Word Count- 8,500

Warnings- drugs, guns, blood, prostitution, violence, abuse, sexual content, betrayal, character deaths, ect.

≽ Links to previous chapters can be found on my masterlist in my bio because Tumblr sucks now! You can also click on the ‘Florida Kilos’ tag!

From the time that I was a little girl, growing up in poverty, I decided that my adulthood would be different. At a young age, I was more sure of myself than most of the people around me. As a result, I made my way down to Florida where I began to both make and deal cocaine- alongside the man of my life. We shared our dreams, our bodies, our business. I was in a drug cartel with responsibilities and a lot of talent. I made dangerous partnerships, million dollar deals, and a lot of money; that is where this story begins.

The lights were off and the kitchen was hot. It was midday, the sun was coming in strong through the blinds.

“You mix it. Like this (Y/n).” Yoongi took the rod from my hand, mixing the liquid at the bottom of the bucket. The clear substance began to cloud, a white milky color that looked better than gold.

“What is that called again? What you just added…” I asked him. I just need to hear it once more, so that way, I could never forget.

“Sodium Hydroxide.” I wrote it down in my head, spelling it out over and over again. Making a mental note of everything he said before. Sodium Hydroxide a white solid ionic compound consisting of sodium cations Na+ and hydroxide anions OH−. Like any other corrosive acids and alkalis, drops of it can decompose living tissues and cause chemical burns that may induce permanent blindness upon contact with eyes. “After we drain it, all that’s left is to cook it.”

He removed the rod from the bucket and tossed it in the sink nearby.

“This whitewater is the purest form of cocaine. What every housewife and wall street businessman likes to snort.”

The blend was wrapped in the towel; I waited for the stove to finish cooking another batch that was already turning into snow. Cooking was always Yoongi’s artistry- I, on the other hand, was gifted with numbers. I knew how much we made, how much we sold, and how much we lost.

I heard the front door of the trailer slam- He was home early. Too early, he should have been out for at least another 52 minutes, that could only mean, that it didn’t go well. He walked into my line of sight with his eyebrows furrowed under his black hair. I pushed my hair out of my face with my forearm and leaned my hip against the countertop.

“We didn’t complete the kilos they’re asking for.” He took a set at one of the chairs from our two seat table. He pulled a cigarette, hidden in the back of his ear, placing it between his dry lips and lighting it.

“How many grams are we off?” He blew out smoke from his nostrils before rubbing his eyes with the side of his hand.

“14 grams.” I cursed under my breath; calculating and recalculating what I had cooking on my side. “Finishing up what we have here would add up to a third of an ounce. If we are lucky.”

“We are going to be left with 7 grams for our personal supply. That is only $182 of the $546 that we were planning to make for the month.” He flicked his cigarette into the ashtray and blew out the smoke from his lips quickly.

“I know (Y/n)! I know…” Yoongi began to unbutton his flannel from the heat that was cooking the blow. “And that’s is nothing compared to what they are going to be selling it for throughout streets.”

I pushed myself off the counter, taking off my gloves and surgical mask, making my way over to him. It was difficult making any extra money for us to live off of. The manufacturers of this product made shit compared to the dealers, who had the contacts and connections, and we had no choice but to sell it to them. Though in our case, we sold our leftovers ourselves which was anywhere between 14 and 21 grams. Though, like Yoongi said, it was nothing compared to the price they were going to be making. Of course, what we're doing is absolutely insane. The money that we were paid was used to by the cocaine paste from contacts in Cuba. It was business and we weren't making much of a profit. We had to be careful of how much we sold at a time and where we sold it. Yoongi and I both knew the risk we were running selling on the side. Technically, we weren’t selling on anyone's territory but all of Florida was practically owned. Though, it wasn’t much coke; any competition was an act of war.

His eyes locked with mine, standing to meet me halfway; he took me into his arms and pressed me against the small table. I was only in a pair of cotton shorts and my bra; while his hands made their way down my figure, he hooked an arm around my leg. He placed me on the table and didn’t hesitate to press his lips against mine. His kiss was hot and wet, he tasted of the cigarette he just put out and an iced americano from earlier. His lips trailed against my neck with my legs spread on his sides. I couldn’t think to the care of how hot the house was when I had him so close to me. I leaned my head against the window, disturbing the blinds, and watching his head move lower down my chest. My breath grew heavy and I bit down on my lip to try and control my breathing. I pushed his dark hair away from sticking to his forehead, getting a better look the way his mouth worked on my skin.

“Yoongi…” I moaned, “I have to finish...cooking the coke.”

I lightly pushed his head away from me and sat up on the table. He sighed and stepped back, allowing me to hop off the table and walk back towards the stove.

“I’ll call Hobi to come over so we can finish packing the order.” He pulled out his phone in one hand and the other finished unbuttoning the rest of his shirt.

“Call Kookie too. We need to give out all the coordinates over the next movements.” He nodded his head at me as the phone rang.

I made room on the counters to placed what was already cooked. Once Hobi got here, they would separate and weigh out what they needed to finish the order. Then were would see how much was left over for us. I put my mask back on and prepared what was left to be cooked.

“I still can’t stand that kid you brought in,” Yoongi muttered behind me. I rolled my eyes and glanced back at him. He tossed his shirt on the table he had me pinned against. My eyes trailed down his body while he walked over to grabbed a surgical mask from the drawer.

“He’s doing his job well,” He started at the counter, loosely parting the cheese like material by what looked like the right amount. “Jungkook is selling everything we give him and, on top of that, he is helping us out with the orders of the Kim broth-”

“He wants to fuck you.” He laughed but, I could tell, it tasted bitter. “That is the only reason he’s obedient as a dog.”

“Who cares? It’s working in our favor baby! Besides...” I turned up the heat all the way hot before turning my attention to Yoongi. I stood by his side and wrapped my hand around his waist. “He’s afraid of you.”

“Well, he should be.” I giggled and ran my hand up his bare back. He had two bullet wound scars, one went right through his shoulder and the other missed his spine by inches.

“Alright doll, I want you to shoot those bottles over there.” Yoongi walked through the high grass coming back at my side. He handed me a 9mm pistol and placed his hands on his hips. “Open your legs- the aim is having balance in a strong stance.”

I nodded my head and wrapped my hands around the grip panel, “No, no. Don’t put your hand there-this isn’t a movie. Place the second hand around your wrist, to reduce the force of the kickback.”

I did what he said and gripped my wrist tightly. Closing one of my eyes, in an attempt, get a clear aim on the coca-cola bottle peeking out of the grass. My finger pulled the trigger and the gun kicked back with a loud bang. My eyes couldn’t help back the flinch at the sound and the bullet flew somewhere into the grass. I missed.

“Okay…” Yoongi stepped in. “Aim just slightly lower than your target. You need to imagine that every one of those bottles is someone trying to kill you. You only have one chance.”

I took in a deep breath, there was already a shot of adrenaline running through my body from the first shoot. In this case, the force of the escaping bullet is going to equal the force pushing back on the gun. Force is mass times acceleration. Semi-automatic pistols can hold usually between 7 and 16 bullets and fire as quickly as you pull the trigger. My hands were growing sweating and my heart was racing but I leveled my head and refocused on the target. I look down at the sight of the gun, took aim, slowly exhale, and pull the trigger.

Bang. The glass shattered.

“Shit...you got it!” I smirk spread on my lips and my eyes searched for the next target. Bang! Glass shattering. “You see that Hobi? (Y/n) is better than you already.”

I glanced behind me to Hoseok who was sitting on a nearby log. He wore a presently surprised look, with his mouth hanging open and his eyes wide. I snickered and stepped back to point the gun at Yoongi. He raised his hands up and smiled, a sight that I didn’t see very often,

“That’s my girl.”

I opened the front door and was greeted by Jungkook and Hoseok. I stepped to the side and allowed them into the small living room of our trailer home. Hobi walked over to Yoongi, pulling out the scales, a block press, and the almost complete kilo of blow from a duffle bag. I walked over to the table and grabbed one of the cigarettes from Yoongi’s flannel.

“Take a seat Kookie,” I said with the cigarette between my lips right before I lit it. I kept the Zippo lighter in my hand, practicing a tick I always saw Yoongi doing.

“What’s the move?” I blew the smoke from my lips before licking them.

“We are going to have to give you much less than I told you before,” I said as I watched Hobi add the last couple of grams to the kilo for the order. “We were sure to have at least a third of an ounce, but we're 14 grams short for the Kim brothers order. If we are lucky we might have 7 or 8 grams for you to sell this weekend.”

“Well, that's a fucking bummer. I had this college party lined up. I would have been able to sell it all in one night but 8 grams is just not enough.” Yoongi finished cooking what was on the stove, while Hobi pressed the order of coke into a perfect block.

“A kilo exactly.” He announced before putting the block in the microwave; so that any water and chemicals evaporate completely.

“Sell what you can- you have the rest of the month to get rid of it,” I said assuring him that though it was a bummer, it was not big of a deal. “How many grams do we have left Yoongi?”

“It looks like a quarter ounce exactly.” He said weighing what we had left over on the scale. Hobi shook his head and sighed while waiting for the block to be done in the microwave.

“Damn...everybody was looking forward to some ‘Suga’ at this party.” Jungkook laughed with disappointment.

“What did you call it?” I asked confused on his strange choice of name.

“Suga...that's what everyone knows it by.” We all turned to look at him completely confused. “The name that's on the bag.”

I felt my skin freeze and I turned to look at Yoongi. He had his eyes locked on Jungkook. He left the grams on the counter and stepped across the floor so swiftly that I couldn’t react fast enough. He walked up to Jungkook grabbing him by the collar of his shirt.

“What the fuck did you say?” He caught Jungkook completely off guard, pulling him up to his feet. “You put a name on the blow you’ve been selling?!”

“The Kim brothers do it- I thought so should we-”

Yoongi swung his fist, landing across Jungkook’s baby face. He let him stumbled a few steps back with blood dripping from a cut his cheek. Though Jungkook only needed two seconds to run back to return the punch. His fist made contact with Yoongi’s jaw. The punch had him leaning forward and spitting out blood from his mouth. I quickly stood up as Yoongi reached into the back of his pants for the gun he had tucked away.

“That’s enough!” I stood behind Yoongi grabbing onto his shoulders.

“You fucking brat. Do you know what you’ve done?” His gun was pointed at Jungkook who stood holding onto his hand that was aching from the impact. “You put us on the map dumbass! What do you think the Kim brothers are going to do when they realize their coke is being sold under a different name and for a cheaper price?!”

“Put the gun down Yoongi,” Hobi said walking over between the too. Hoseok tore the gun from his grip and slammed it on the table. “We need to see what we are going to do now.”

I ran my hands along my hair and sighed. Labeling and naming one's product is a form of making territory- It is a way of openly saying “Here we are.” Which is exactly what we wanted to avoid.

“We aren’t selling in their territory though,” Jungkook said, stepping closer now that the gun wasn’t pointed at his head. He really needed to shut up right about now, for his own safety.

“All of Florida is their fucking territory!” Yoongi was quick to grab the gun once more and hit Jungkook with the back of it, this time, knocking him down.

“Jesus Christ, Yoongi!” I leaned down checking on Jungkook. Both his cheek and lip were cut open, blood was dripping down his chin and staining his white shirt. I looked up at Hoseok who was taking the gun away from Yoongi once again before I asked him to pass me some paper towels.

I would be lying if I said he didn’t deserve that- we could all be killed because of what Jungkook did. I would also be lying if I said that seeing Yoongi this angry didn’t turn me on. But I did bring Jungkook into our business, and so I felt responsible for what happened with him and to him.

“Get him the hell out of here before I kill him.” Yoongi turned around, walking off into the bathroom.

“Hobi please take him home. Yoongi and I will take care of the rest here- wait for our call later tonight.” Jungkook got up on his feet cleaning up the blood from his chin with the paper towels I gave him.

As soon as I saw them out, I went to the bathroom where I found Yoongi washing his mouth from the taste of blood.

“Let me take a look.” A slit on his top lip was bleeding heavily and he had a gash on his gums that cause him to keep spitting out blood. “He got you pretty good.”

“This is your damn fault too.” He pushed my hands away and walked passed me back into the kitchen.

“I understand but how was I supposed to know he would do something so stupid,” I said following behind him.

“You were supposed to keep track on him. I told you- I TOLD you that he was nothing but a cocky brat who wanted to play Scarface.” I trusted my judgment. Jungkook was young and hungry but he was serious about getting into this business.

“It was my mistake. I wasn’t clear with him from the beginning; I didn’t want him to know more than he had too but-” I cut myself off because I knew already it was my fault regardless of any explanations. “I will take care of this.”

“How do you plan to do that?” Yoongi began to wrap up the final kilos for the Kim brothers.

“The only thing we can do is stop selling for now- maybe start up again in a few months but in a different location far away,” I said walking around him to collect what little we had leftover. “Jungkook has been selling for six months if the Kim brothers new about ‘Suga’ they would have come after him already.”

He didn’t respond because he knew I had a point but he was still angry with me. I said nothing else and allowed us to clean up the kitchen, in peace, from the mess that was made. We opened the blinds and windows airing out the smell of chemicals from our home. I took the gun and the quarter ounce of cocaine to hide them in the usual safe under our bed. I walked back into the kitchen as Yoongi was squatted down to pack up everything in Hobi’s duffle bag. I walked up behind him my hands resting on his shoulders,

“You know...the way you punched Jungkook kind of turned me on.” He stood up quickly and turned around to face me.

“I really doubt that. Especially, after how you fell to the floor to make sure he was okay.” I laughed and closed the gap between us.

“Baby you gun-butted him across the face-he’s just a kid.” He grabbed my wrists and held them tightly so that my hands wouldn’t roam around his torso. “You look so hot with a busted lip.”

There was a moment of silence that came with the blank stare he giving me. But Yoongi was quick to lunged forward and wrapped his hands around the back of my thighs. He wrapped my legs around my waist and carried me to our bed; where he tossed me onto the sheets. I sat up on my elbows, watching him unbuckle his belt as his eyes were burning holes into mine. I couldn’t help but bite on my lip, smiling, as I bought one of my legs up to open a space for him between them. Yoongi kneeled over me with his hands beside my head. His lips came crashing down on mine, I could taste the blood from his bleeding lip on my tongue.

“I hate you.” He muttered against my lips. I laughed and grabbed a fist full of his hair while he pushed his hips into mine.

“Shut up already.” I groaned.

My hands moved down his chest, reaching for the part of him that was poking me through the denim of his jeans. I palmed him through his briefs and he kissed his way down my neck pulling on the straps of my bra. I can tell how impatient he was from the way he thrust himself into my hand.

“Fuck…” Yoongi grabbed my hands and pinned them above my head. “Stay.”

I held onto the pillow above my head so that I could fight the urge to disobey him. He was quick to pull the material of my shorts and underwear down my legs, exposing my lower core bare in front of his eyes.

“You just gonna stare at it or what?” I kicked his chest and sat up. “Take those off, daddy.”

I unhooked my bra, tossing it to the side, while he finished undressing. Yoongi took hold of me again- wanting to have all the control he could have on me. He guided me on his lap, with both on my legs straddling at his side. His cock was hard and was throbbing to be lodged inside of me. I took a moment to look into his black eyes that only he had, his tan dewy skin, with blood trickling and pooling on his lower lip. I pushed his hair out of his eyes,

“You’ve never looked as good...as you do now.” This was the man of my dreams.

I leaned in close, my tongue running over his bottom lip, savoring the taste of his blood. His eyes lowered to my lips before he cupped my cheek in his hand; capturing my lips before I could even think to move away. Our tongues met in my mouth, deepening the kiss that we had fallen into. My hand landed on the nap of his neck, tugging at the strands of hair that rested on the back.

My man is a bad man but he had my whole entire world in his hands. He loves me- he needs me- he’d never leave me. My man was a good man but he was in a heartless world with no gameplan. I was the moon and he was my sun- who made me shine brighter than any diamond.

I sat on his length, he stretched me out and filled me completely. Yoongi’s forehead rested against mine while took a hold of my hips, allowing me to set the pace for the trip we were on. Our heavy breathing was reflecting the rhythm of my rocking hips. I moved slow but he pushed me down deep, carrying out every sensation to all that it was meant to be. Whimpers fell from my lips, echoing his grunts,

“You look so pretty with my blood on your lips.” Yoongi breathed while he brought his hand back up to my cheek. With this thumb, he smeared and smudged the red substance across my puckered lips as if it was lipstick. “Perfect…”

His blood stained my skin while he laid kissed across my chest, my head hanging back, I rocked my hips harder against him. I could feel my arousal leaking out of me every time he pulled out. I felt as though I could burst at any moment.

“I want you so bad…” I could almost cry. Nothing compared to having him inside of me-he was a part of me.

“You’ve got me.” He grabbed my arms to pin them behind my back. His hand was large enough to hold both of mine, while the other rested upon my hip. Yoongi began to thrust upward, hitting my insides from a whole new angle and a new rhythm.

I let out a scream that anyone near the house could make out and surely know the pleasure that was erupting in our bedroom. My core began to ache and my abdomen was burning. My legs were weak and a visible shake began to spread across my body.

“Ahh! Yoongi~” He tightened the grip he had on my hands with a few of our fingers interlocking. “I’m almost there…”

The determination glistened in his eyes, he cursed under his breath with each thrust he gave me. His hair was sticking to his forehead again and a vein was popping from the side of his neck. The sound of our breaths and our skin was filling my ears while my vision starts to haze. Though I tried to fight it- he was such a sight to witness.

Yoongi pressed me closer to him, my breast rubbed against his chest with every buck of his hips. My mind began to cloud and all I could do was feel the sensation that was running in my blood from my core to my very fingertips. As my eyes rolled to the back of my head, the only real thought that I could gather was- this must be what heaven was like.

Yoongi’s arms wrapped around my frame as he finished inside of me. There was no better feeling- no better man- that could give me that experience.

“Woah...how much money is in here?” I asked picking up the stack of hundreds that was wrapped in a rubber band. I flipped through the edge of the bills with my finger making a quick count of the cash.

“Enough to flee the country and not starve for a couple weeks- if needed,” Yoongi said unloading one of the three guns that had been locked away in the safe. “No one knows about this safe or this money- not even Hoseok.”

I looked up at him surprised. Hoseok was the only person that Yoongi trusted with his very life, he had said it himself. It was a shock that he would have any secrets from him but then again, in this business, you never knew.

“How come you’re showing me then?” I asked placing the money back on the counter. I crossed my arms over my chest, worried that the reason could be because I wouldn’t make out from here alive.

“I’m not just showing it to you (Y/n). I’m giving you the code to open it.” He said taking out the rest of the items that were inside. “This is your gun, your passport, and a quarter kilo of cocaine.”

“Yoongi I-”

“Hey listen to me,” He said grabbing my arm so that I wouldn’t step away from him. “If something ever happens and we need to get out of the country, we can do it with this, in a matter of hours... and- if something ever happens to me, you take this and go yourself.”

“You’re an idiot,” I said yanking my arm from his grip. “Nothing is going to happen to you. I’ll make sure of it.”

My body was startled out of my slumber by the bedroom door being broken down. I was in a cold sweat as I saw two men come in with machine pistols pointed right am me.

“Well damn, look what we got here!” One of them laughed as he looked at my exposed chest. Though my only worry at the moment was Yoongi because he wasn’t in the bed where we had fallen asleep. “You going to show us what's under those sheets baby?

“You touch her and you’re fucking dead! You hear m-” Yoongi’s voice was cut off and followed by his coughing. The two men began moving around on either side of the bed, I glanced into the living room where I could see other men pointing their guns into the kitchen where they had Yoongi.

There were only a few moments in my life that I could say, with all honesty, that I felt fear- this was one of them. Though, it wasn’t my life that I feared for. The only reason that I was remaining calm was that I was analyzing the situation we were suddenly in. They weren’t local authorities, much less DEA agents, no- these were men sent after us by the Kim brothers. Two in my bedroom, two pointing their guns at Yoongi, and one that was only a voice.

That voice quickly had a face when he walked into the bedroom. He stopped in his tracks when he made immediate eye contact with me, his eyes fell on my chest, and then back at me. He was shorter than the other men, about Yoongi’s height, though definitely younger. Blonde hair framed a long face, a small nose above big lips, and a black shirt tucked into black pants.

“I think we can keep her for ourselves, don’t you think we deserve it, Jimin?” The same guy said to him but Jimin still hadn’t taken his eyes off of me. I could tell he was doing the same as me, analyzing and calculating the next moves.

“Get her dressed and bring her too.” He turned around and was about to leave the room,

“Why? She’s probably just a whore he picked up on the street.” I smirked and Jimin glanced at me clearly seeing it.

“You think a whore would be acting so calm right now?” He asked the guy before reaching back and pulling a gun from the back of his pants. “No… She knows exactly what's going on.”

He cocked his gun and pointed it at me. He told the men to leave the room and help out the other guys to restrain Yoongi. I contemplated my options- there was a gun tucked into my side of the mattress. I could reach for it when I had the chance, duck to the floor and shoot him the next second.

Bang. He’s dead. His men come in. Bang. I’m dead.

“Grab the clothes that are right here on the floor. No ticks.” He maintained eye contact with me. It was as if we were playing a game of who could keep their eyes open the longest but whoever blinked- died.

I slowly moved off the bed in the direction he indicated. The gun followed me as I moved, I could tell he was trying not to look down as the sheets began to reveal more of me. The question was- would he give in? The sheets were revealing higher and higher up my thighs; I purposely stepped down from the bed with one leg opened as the blanket trailed behind.

Curiosity killed the cat.

The split second he looked down I reached behind me and grabbed the gun that was tucked away. By the times he noticed my change in objective, I already stood pointing my gun back at him. We waited both on the edge of our seats. I wanted to see if he would shoot me but instead, he waited to see if I would shoot him. Never had I met someone I could so easily read? It was because he was just like me- though, one of us had to be smarter.

“You aren’t a stupid girl. You know shooting me would be a terrible mistake.” Of course, I knew. I couldn’t hold back my smile, I must have looked like a sadist standing there completely naked and challenging him.

I gave it another second, toying with my own life before I opened my hands letting the gun hang around my thumb by its trigger guard. I could almost see him exhale the breath that was caught in his throat this entire time. I dropped the gun on the floor and kicked it away as he instructed. I followed his orders and got dressed in the clothes that were on the ground. I wore Yoongi’s white flannel, that fit me like a dress, and a pair of my boyshorts.

He brought me out of the room with the muzzle of the gun against my back. I felt my stomach drop at the sight of Yoongi lying, face first unconscious, against the floor in a puddle of blood. My own blood boiled as the same pig who was in my room walked towards me smiling.

“See what happens when you put up a fight baby girl? You end up like your boyfriend right here.” I spit in his face so he would wipe away that cocky smile. The men behind him laughed at how he stumbled back. He must have thought my hands were tied together by the way I had them folded. That was his mistake because he was quick to slap me with the back of his hand. “Stupid bitch.”

There was a second where I looked at him through the hair that fell over my face, my cheek burning hot and I could taste my blood- at that moment he knew his mistake was not killing me.

I jumped off my feet, wrapping my legs around his torso, biting down on the first piece of flesh I could find. My teeth sunk into the skin of his cheek and I would not stop until I tasted his blood. He yelled as he stumbled back, grabbing a fist full of my hair, trying to pry me off his face. The more he tried to pull me off the more of his skin tore off. He was stumbling around so much no one dared to shoot at me, in fear of hitting him.

The last thing I remembered before blacking out was the worst pain in the back of my head. I remember thinking that my brain was exposed because my vision went white as I felt myself fall into gravity. There was a ringing in my ear but I could hear the men talking while I hit the floor. I let myself blackout with the satisfaction of knowing that man will forever be reminded of me when he looked in the mirror.

“How will I know?” I asked Yoongi as we laid together on a lawn chair, his arm around my shoulder, we were on the rooftop of our trailer home.

“The situation will present itself in the form of an instant.” He played with the ends of my hair, thinking that I didn’t have a clue he was doing so. “A moment where nothing or everything can happen. A circumstance in which your life is decided in a matter of seconds.”

I sat up from his side, crossing my legs at the end of the long chair and listened closely to his words.

“Death can come in many faces. It could be a person who greets you on the street or simply walks by you and smiles.” He pulled out a cigarette from its package, I leaned in and lit up the end for him pulling away from the fire as his cheeks hollow in. “But there will be something in those eyes or in that smile; that will give you goosebumps and that feeling in your gut, when you know something isn’t right.”

I took the cigarette out of his hand, while he blew the smoke from his mouth, I took a drag of the nicotine to ease my nerves.

“A fraction of a second later, one of you will be dead and the other alive. Always make sure you are the one who’s alive. It only depends on you.”

He leaned forward, taking his cigarette out of my hand- he didn’t necessarily like me smoking- or at the very least, not from his own pack.

“But believe me doll,” He tossed me a bottle of water from the cooler beside him. “It’s better for them to just kill you, instead of letting them take you in for questioning.”

“But you just said to always be the one who stays alive. Wouldn’t I have a better chance of doing that if I answer their questions?”

“The problem isn’t if you can answer their questions (Y/n), it’s if you can’t answer them. Your chances of being able to talk your way out of trouble are close to zero.”

I looked away from him, the sunset we had been watching was far into the horizon, but the stars were right above us.

There was a smell of rosewood that was strong and musky. The fragrance travels slowly in the cold air that had my nose frozen. I thought the pounding in my ears was from the gun-but but I soon realized it was from a stereo base that shook the wall above me. I groaned as I lifted my head, the room was an icy purple color, which made the lights on the ceiling vibrate in contrast. It took me a few tugs from my arms to realize that I was tied to a chair by my hands and feet. The rope was wrapped around my arms and my legs like the beginning to mummification, there was no way of breaking free from it.

“Jesus (Y/n), you’re alive.” I turned my head to the voice to my left. Hoseok was tied up to another chair in a much similar matter. His eyebrow and his nose were stained with dry blood, along with new bruises that were forming on his face.

“I don’t think that's really something to be happy about Hobi,” I said turning to my right to find Yoongi and Jungkook beside him. Yoongi was still out cold, it was obvious that Jungkook and Yoongi put up the most fighting. “How long have we been here?”

I stayed looking at Yoongi and was relieved to see his shoulders still moving ever so lightly to indicate he was still breathing.

“Hard to say because that clock over there is really just a camera. They’ve been watching us.” I looked at to where Hoseok was referring to. I had not noticed that we were seated in front of a desk that had a clock on the wall behind it. “No audio as far as I can tell.”

“They are going to kill us. ” Jungkook said more to himself than to any of us. I could tell what was going on through his head- it was the same thing that was going through Hobi’s. How were we going to die? Would it be quick or would they make us suffer? They thought about their day. What actions led them to this moment in their life. “Fuck (Y/n). Just tell me how they’re going to do it...”

“If you’re lucky, a bullet to the head execution style,” I said ignoring Jungkook's desperate attempt for a coping mechanism to handle this death. Even if he knew the exact way he was going to die, it wouldn’t prepare him for it. No one was ever ready to die.

“And if I’m not lucky?”

“Let’s hope we don’t find out.” I was too busy looking around the room for whatever I could find that could be helpful to me. There was a door behind the desk and another pair of double steel doors behind us.

“You have a plan,” Hoseok stated. He knew me well enough to get an idea of how my mind worked.

“My plan is the same as ever and that’s to not die.” I wasn’t afraid. It seemed hard to believe even for me but Yoongi always said, that you knew when you were going to die. Your body just knew and there was no fighting it. So my body just knew that I wouldn’t let myself die today. “Just let me do the talking and maybe I can save all of us.”

“What? Do you plan to negotiate with the Kim brothers? Are you out of your fucking mind?” I rolled my eyes at Jungkook who was spitting his words at me. “I don’t know if you’ve realized this (Y/n) but we aren’t exactly in a position to negotiate!”

“Jungkook that bratty little mouth of yours has already gotten us into enough trouble. Unless you have any better ideas, I suggest you shut the fuck up!”

We all stopped at the sound of the heavy steals doors unlocking behind us. I looked over my shoulder, watching four men coming through the doors, heavily armed with AK 12s. Among them were there three from earlier at my place but the pig who’s face I bit off was not one of them. Before I noticed anything else, one of them walked behind Yoongi, dumping a bucket of ice water over his head. The water splashed off the floor, landing on my thighs proving just how freezing it was. Yoongi gasped and his eyes shot open. He searched the room around him through his wet strands of hair. I saw his face contour in pain from all of his injuries hitting him at once.

“Min Yoongi!” A voice called out from the other side of the room. From the door behind the desk walked out a handsome man, well dressed in an expensive suit; of brown hair that grew longer in the back and a golden tanned skin that brought out his blue eyes. “You’re up! How great, we have so much to talk about.”

Jimin followed out behind, closing the door and standing by the desk with his arms tucked behind him. He wore a face of indifference but his eyes roamed their way over to me before looking away like I wasn’t there. The man was surely Kim Taehyung- Miami's drug lord who Yoongi had been making business with for the past three years.

“Kim Taehyung, pleased to officially meet you Min Yoongi.” He walked himself around his desk, squatting in front of Yoongi. Who still hand his head hanging low from a killer headache that was disabling his thoughts. Kim Taehyung stuck out his hand waiting for Yoongi to take it in a formal greeting. Though, he sighed as if he was disappointed in Yoongi’s rejection. “Hm. Maybe you’d prefer if I address you as Min Suga?”

He suddenly stepped away, his back was turned to us for a moment, though I could tell he was actually reaching into the pocket inside his suit. Before I could make out whether it was a gun or not, he took a big step back in Yoongi’s direction. He grabbed a hold of his hair, forcing him to make eye contact with a bag of cocaine held in his hand.

“Isn’t that what they call you?! Hm?!”

Yoongi didn’t say anything, even though you could see in his face that he was holding his tongue. That was boring to Taehyung. He threw the open bag of cocaine at Yoongi’, the white powder flying all over his face and he had no choice but to breath it in. I saw the bag fall at his lap and the word ‘Suga’ writing on the front.

Kim Taehyung walked over to his desk, plopping a seat in the cair, licking the cocaine off his fingers. Taehyung was supposed to be the youngest of the Kim brothers, the three of them ran their own illegal business; cocaine, guns, prostitutes. It was hard to believe someone so young would already be in charge of the entire cocaine distribution in all Florida. He definitely looked the part, carried himself like the rich brat he was raised to be, but his form of communication was fiendish. He was quick to lose his temper- he was bored and impatient.

“I told you from the beginning Yoongi- not to try to fuck us over. And now...” Taehyung laughed. He reached into one of his drawers, pulling out a TT pistol, “I’m taking my coke for free.”

“I’m not giving you shit!” Bang!

I flinched seeing the bullet go into Yoongi’s leg. He let out a groan from the back of his throat and his head hit the back of the chair. He was fighting through the pain, his teeth clenched and his eyes opened looking at me. When I looked into his eyes, I usually saw heaven, but now hell was burning out of them.

“I have your cocaine.”

All eyes switched to me. For a second I wasn’t sure anymore but I only had this one chance. I watched Taehyung raise his eyebrow and a wide smile spread across his lips.

“That’s right. I almost forgot about you, honey.” He got out of his chair this time walking up to me. I could hear Yoongi fight against his ropes but I didn’t dare to break eye contact with Taehyung. I held my head up high in front of him, letting him know I was serious about the situation. “You’re the one who bit the face off of Joshua.”

“I wouldn’t have if your men knew how to treat a woman.” He smiled down at me while his hand reached out to cup my chin. He whipped dry blood from the corners of my mouth with his thumb.

“Careful boss- she might bite your hand off,” Jimin said from the place where he hadn’t moved an inch. I moved my head away from his hand, starting to feel like a dog being caressed. Jimin’s tone wasn’t necessarily worried as much of it being annoyed.

“I sure hope not. It would be a shame to have to put a bullet through such a pretty girls head.” He pressed the cold metal of his pistol against my cheek. My breath caught in my throat but I still held my gaze at him. “Such a pretty face...you could be one of Jin’s girls.”

He tailed his gun down my neck, stopping at the collar where the buttons began. He pulled his gun down hard to ripping the first two buttons off.

“Son of a bitch- if you touch her, you’ll-” Bang!

I gasped, my eyes scattering to Yoongi to see where he got hit.

“Next bullet won’t miss Suga,” Taehyung warned. I could feel my eyes gloss with anger, my heart was pounding in my chest. He looked back down at me, closing up my shirt, before leaning in. “My apologies dear”

He turned around to walk back to his desk. I took a deep breath before sending a glace Yoongi’s way. He shook his head at me, telling me no- but I had to do what I could. It wasn’t just his life on the line- it was Jungkook’s and Hoseok's.

“So honey, you were saying you had my cocaine. Where can I find it?” He leaned in and crossed his hands together. He placed his gun down but it was in easy reach, pointing in my direction.

“I have a proposition for you.”

A smirk appeared on his face as if he had been waiting for me to say that. I could hear Yoongi cursing under his breath but I kept my head high anyway. I was starting to lose circulation in my hands and feet. I needed to act quickly because Yoongi was still bleeding out from the bullet.

“Why would I negotiate with you for my cocaine; when I could just beat the information out of this one and kill all of you?” He said referring to Hoseok, who looked like he was about to pass out.

“Because we’re worth more alive than dead.” He laughed, pushing his bangs out of his eyes. “I can make you more money than you’ve been making in the past three years.”

“And how would you do that, exactly?” He leaned back in his chair, placing his feet up on his desk- without a worry in the world.

“By expanding your range of distribution.” Taehyung furrowed her eyebrows. He didn’t expect such an answer. “You’ve been trying to for years. You’ve asked us for larger amounts of product one month, but the next month you asked us for much less because you couldn’t sell all of it in Florida. The Latin cartels have territory around the state, so it makes it difficult for you to expand your territory without the protection of your brother's influences on the law. But I know of a way to get the coke out of the state is a large amount- unnoticed and off the grid.”

“What makes you think I want to expand the distribution? Look at what I have here- I fucking own Florida.” He brought his feet down and stood up, his hands were flat on his desk and his smirk was wiped clean. I had him.

“You share Florida with your brothers. You want a power that expands across state lines because you know crossing your cocaine to the westside or the eastside states will raise the prices. While the retail price per gram of coke is between $50-$100 in the United States; that price goes up to $130-$185 in Europe. That is a deal you could have easily made since your brother has ties to the Irish mafia-If I’m not mistaken, that’s how he gets his guns, right? I’m sure he would have given you that idea many times but you’ve turned it down because you want this business to expand without their help. We’ll be working with you only and all the cocaine we produce will be for your cause specifically. You won’t have to worry about how much cocaine you buy every month- we'll be in charge of that.”

“We or you? What are they any good for?” Taehyung asked taking a seat in his chair once more.

“Hoseok and Yoongi have the connections to Cuba where we buy the cocaine paste at a cheap price; by the time they are done cooking and cutting it- the price triples. But you have the connects to distribute farther than we can ever get it on our own. Jungkook- he’s loyal and can do any task you give him. He was the only person dealing the coke we had on the side, we didn’t need anybody else, because he could do it all on his own. I trust him- and I’m not someone who trusts easily.”

“And how do I trust you? You and your guys already tried to fuck me over once-”

“Then kill us.” I cut him off. “But we don’t have anything else in this piece of shit world. No one chooses to be in this business- not even you- it’s a matter of circumstance. We don’t have anything left to lose and all we’ve ever done is try to make something out of the nothing we have. I decided a long time ago, that I wouldn’t die in poverty. I would take everything I was and buy the world that I was deprived of or- I would die trying.”

I was staring holes in Kim Taehyung's eyes and he was in mine. He ran his tongue over his lips, letting out a deep sigh. There was no sound, no movements, for what felt like hours and all I could do was wait. At some point, I don’t even know what I was waiting for. If the gun, that held a bullet with my name on it, was being aimed at me. I didn’t dare turn to look. I wasn’t sure of anything anymore.

Suddenly, Jimin moved from his stance; he leaned into Taehyung's ear. What he whispered in his ear- I didn’t know. Taehyung’s face didn’t change and he didn’t move an inch while Jimin spoke to him. All I knew was that Jimin had saved our lives.

“Well (Y/n), you’ve got yourself a deal.”

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moonbeambucky · 6 years ago

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The Price of Gold (Part 17)

Pairing: Lance Tucker x Reader Word Count: 4654 Warnings: angst, mention of cancer, mention of real life gymnastics sex abuse scandal

Summary: As a sports journalist you’ve traveled the world interviewing famous athletes. You’ve loved your job up until you find out your next article is on the last person in the world you ever wanted to talk to, Lance Tucker.

A/N: This was probably the hardest chapter I had to write but I love it so much and I hope you do too! This doesn’t follow The Bronze canon though some film details are mixed with real world events. Written for @green-eyeddragonfanfiction Dragon’s 3k Follower Creative Content Challenge. My prompt was “I can’t be in love with you!” gif source (x)

PART 16 | THE PRICE OF GOLD MASTERLIST

On the grand opening day for Tucker Gymnastics Lance looked like absolute shit. He spent the night in the ER again with his mother and Nadia, all for the doctors to tell him the same thing as before, his mother was dying.

Lance cupped Dorothy’s hands in his own, watching her hooked up to machines again. This wouldn’t have happened if you didn’t call. Why didn’t you listen to him? Nadia said she received a phone call that made her really confused. There was screaming from the other end of the line and it was upsetting Dorothy but all she kept repeating was “Y/N.” She became so upset she started to panic, her mind couldn’t handle whatever was happening and Nadia couldn’t calm her down. Her blood pressure was through the roof and so she went to the hospital.

He contemplated everything, wondering if you were playing games with him from the start. Maybe he deserved it. Lance knew he fucked up in the past but he was young and stupid. He was also madly in love with you and every day he tried to explain, to apologize. Even if you didn’t forgive him he just wanted to see your face one last time to know it was really over. Instead you ignored him and the open wound that was his heart hurt more and more until it was infected. He partied to forget you, he became the asshole that would have driven you away if you even attempted to contact him. He convinced himself that he didn’t need anyone but it was a lie. He always needed you.

But now Lance doesn’t know what to think because you hurt his mother. He ignored your calls and texts, turning his phone off because he couldn’t stand to look at your face each time the photo of you cuddling together on his couch popped up. Once he thought you were beautiful but now he only sees a monster. How could you do this to him?

Lance left the hospital to run home quickly, disgusted that he stood in the same shower you shared only twenty-four hours ago. He changed and sped over to the center, hoping the bags under his eyes weren’t too deep, hoping he could claim he was up all night preparing for this day.

He was in a daze as the day went by. He should have been happy, this was his dream; his center was USAG accredited, there was an overwhelming sign up from excited children and their parents but Lance wanted to scream. He was too exhausted to deal with everything, wanting to go home and sleep for the next month instead of being there. Looking around all he saw were memories of you and he hated it. You turned his dream into a nightmare.

By the end of the following week Lance was exhausted after visiting his mom after a long day at the center. She had been back home for a few days, with new medication to ease her discomforts. She refused treatment knowing there was no point to it; she’d rather not face the side effects again especially after the cancer had spread.

Lance plopped on the couch slinging his arm over his tired eyes, even the soft glow of the flickering TV was too bright for him. His head was pounding and he wanted to sleep. The sound of his phone going off disturbed the small moment of peace he found. Now that the center was open his phone was always going off with notifications, emails regarding new students and scheduling, Twitter replies, and continued texts that go unreturned from women he didn’t care to involve himself with.

Lance instinctively opened the inbox for the email created for the center to find there was nothing new there, it was his personal email that had a new message and his stomach twisted into knots when he saw it was from you.

Sitting up now he stared at his phone, debating if he should even open your message. You never read any of the apology notes he left for you so he thought about doing the same but something pulled at his heart and he decided to click the box, bracing himself for whatever words were on the opposite side.

Dear Lance,

I want to apologize for many things but the most importantly for the phone call your mom received. An ambitious former coworker searched for her number and used my name to try to gain information. This shouldn’t have happened and I take full responsibility for everything. I love your mother very dearly and I would never jeopardize her health or privacy, ever.

I’m also sorry for accusing you of something that didn’t happen. I felt like my trust was broken, like I was that vulnerable teenager again who didn’t want an explanation. I ran away then just like I ran away now and I’m sorry. It’s a bad habit of mine that I’ve come to realize since my trip to Spring Hill.

Speaking of, it comes as no surprise to us both that I was reluctant to go on that trip but I’m very happy that I did. Despite how things ended I want you to know that I’m truly happy we resolved our issues from the past. I’m really sorry it took so long.

Writing has always helped clear my head. When thoughts are swirling around my mind like a hurricane it’s comforting to get them out in this way. Since I’ve been back in New York I’ve taken the time to write down all of my thoughts about our experience together. Even though you aren’t approving the article I wanted you to read it, keep it for yourself and know just how much you’ve always meant to me.

I wish you the very best success with your gymnastics center and your life. You deserve great things Lance Tucker, you always have.

-Y/N

A lump was caught in Lance’s throat with tears burning his eyes as he reread your email. He felt horrible, saying those things to you when you were innocent. He knew you would never hurt his mom and now he hated himself for yelling at you.

Lance went into the kitchen to grab something to drink, leaning over the cool countertop of the island and opening the PDF attachment within the email.

IN DEPTH with Lance Tucker By Y/N Y/L/N

Sacrifice. Sacrifice is a word that’s tossed around the sports industry a lot with the focus on the athlete and the things they’ve sacrificed to get to where they are today. Sacrifices are never easy. Most athletes have strict diet and workout regimens to adhere to, others have sacrificed their time, losing hours that could be spent with friends and family in favor of practicing, training or performing halfway across the world. When you’ve achieved your goal of becoming that athlete it makes the sacrifices a little easier. They were part of the journey to the top but what about the sacrifices put you on the path in the first place?

Lance Tucker was a household name when he made it to the top by winning a Silver Medal in the 2004 Rome Olympics and the Gold in 2008 Beijing Olympics for the US Men’s Gymnastics Team, but the name you should know is Dorothy Tucker. If it wasn’t for the sacrifices of Dorothy, Lance’s mother, Lance would not have become the athlete we know today.

For the first time in my sports journalism career I haven’t had to do research on the person I would be going to interview. In 1991 I moved to Spring Hill, Florida and the first friend I ever made was the boy across the street, Lance Tucker. He and his mother Dorothy welcomed my family to the neighborhood and we all became very close.

Lance’s father Mitch was an intimidating man, loud and gruff, angry at the world for the cards he had been dealt. He was the type of man that dreamed of a better life but let his own insecurities hold him back. He settled in for a blue collar job, living every day with regrets that were pacified when he reached the bottom of the bottle.

Mitch insisted on being the sole provider for the Tucker family, something I learned later on that Dorothy heavily protested but after various screaming matches she ended up settling into her role as housewife. He worked long hours so Dorothy and Lance had become accustomed to being alone together. Dorothy sat through episodes of Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles with her son excitedly jumping off the couch to reenact the fight scenes. She laughed as Lance’s little body spun around from the force of the punches he threw to the air as he pretended to fight The Foot Clan but he showed grace when he mimicked the turtles, doing cartwheels and somersaults around the living room.

On trips to the park Lance would climb the monkey bars and Dorothy noticed his agility, seeing him demonstrate more coordination and balance than his peers. She scanned through her VHS tape of the 1988 Olympics for the gymnastics portion she swears she recorded. Upon finding it, Dorothy asked Lance watch it with her and this was the day his life changed. The four year old was mesmerized with the sport and was especially excited to see a young man with his namesake, now retired Olympian Lance Ringnald, practically flying in the air as he swung over and under, flipping his body around the high bar. From that day forward Lance wanted to become a gymnast too.

Mitch was against the idea from the start but Dorothy fought for her son, sacrificing her sanity as Mitch continually yelled; his booming voice shaking the foundation of their home, all because of some old fashioned ideas about what it means to be a man.

Mitch Tucker grew up idolizing Mickey Mantle, an extraordinary baseball player whose life outside of the field was equally as exhilarating, indulging in the Manhattan nightlife offerings of endless booze and women. In Mitch’s mind Mantle was a real man he could look up to and while he never played any professional sports he certainly tried to emulate the lifestyle of his hero.

When his young son took an interest in gymnastics it was safe to say that Mitch panicked, worrying that it would make Lance soft and feminine. It was close minded thinking ingrained in him from a long line of other close minded thinkers.

Fighting with Dorothy over Lance’s hobby became a natural part of their relationship and while he didn’t appreciate her standing up to him in some twisted sense of pride he liked the devotion she had towards Lance.

Reluctantly, Mitch began to take Lance to competitions and despite his son’s talent, earning top scores and gold medals from an early age he would consistently demean Lance and his achievements, telling him he should quit and join a real sport instead.

When Lance was ten his parents separated. Mitch’s drinking and infidelity (something both Lance and I were unaware of as children) had reached an all time high but it was the way he spoke about Lance that angered Dorothy the most; Mitch was disappointed in him.

On the surface Lance was an award winning, talented gymnast who was dedicated to his training. He balanced schoolwork and house chores and still made time to see his friends. He was a smart and kind young man and he adored his mother. When you put everything together you can easily see what Mitch was disappointed in, Lance was nothing like him.

I won’t say that Dorothy sacrificed her marriage because she always deserved someone who treated her with love and respect, nevertheless with divorce on the horizon Dorothy was in need of a job. She worked hard, as a letter carrier during the week and got a second job on some nights and the weekend in a dentist’s office to ensure she could pay for Lance’s increased gymnastics training and it paid off in his achievements. Lance continued to compete and the walls of his room were decorated in medals and trophies from various competitions.

There’s a natural sense of pride in winning especially when you’ve worked as hard as Lance Tucker did. In middle school he began training exclusively with Coach Jaclyn Burrows who occupied most of his time after school and on weekends. Despite his exhaustion Lance never failed to hand in his homework and even if his body was sore and achy he never once complained. Although there was the time during my twelfth birthday party where he came very close.

It was held at a roller skating rink and Lance begged Coach Burrows to come in a few hours earlier in order to get out in time so he didn’t miss all of my party. When I saw Lance had arrived I skated over to him, jumping with excitement as he laced up his skates but the minute Lance got onto the floor his overworked legs were like jelly and they gave out on him. I helped him up as he gripped on to me and I skated us both to the benches. He apologized, asking if I would be upset if he didn’t skate. Of course I would never ask him to do that but had I said yes I know Lance would have forced himself to do it, gripping the rail against the wall for support with a smile on his face just so I would be happy.

Lance laid on the bench, resting his head on his mother’s leg as he watched me skate by, eventually closing his tired eyes and falling asleep because he was exhausted. Dorothy woke him up in time for cake although Lance couldn’t have any. He had an upcoming competition and he restricted himself, sticking to a regimented diet of lean meats and vegetables. For a thirteen year old that is sacrifice! Lance stared at the forbidden dessert decorated with flickering candles as he and I posed for a picture, smiling widely as we hugged.

By the time Lance was in his first year of high school he was completely overworked. He was training to compete for the Junior Olympic National Championships while trying to balance the heavy workload of his classes. He hardly had time to do anything, trying to read books for English class on the bus to Coach Burrow’s gymnastics center, training until it was dark, rushing through dinner and staying up late to start his homework. He was burning out easily and Dorothy hadn’t truly seen the effects until she received a call from the Principal’s office. Lance was sleep deprived and his body was too sore to move, so when the Physical Education teacher yelled at him for “being lazy” and not participating Lance snapped at the man, yelling and crying out of frustration (a terribly embarrassing scene for Lance in front of his classmates).

Dorothy wanted Lance to complete high school but she understood there was no way he could do it with the amount of training he required, so she pulled him out in favor of hiring someone to homeschool him. It was another expense she really couldn’t afford but she made sacrifices, dropping the expensive cable TV and only buying new clothes for Lance when he absolutely needed them. Unfortunately the boy was growing into a man whose body was growing as well, becoming taller and stronger but Dorothy never complained. She mended her own wardrobe as needed so Lance could get new clothes, it was a privilege for her to sacrifice things in favor of her son.

Lance homeschooled for a few hours six days a week and he trained for seven, dedicating as much time as he could. Nationals were an important step in his Olympic journey and my family and I were there to support him. Lance was neck and neck with Michael McNamara, each of them rotating between first and second place after each event. It wasn’t until Lance completed his routine on the high bar, expertly performing moves I still don’t know the names for that sent him to the top.

He twisted around the bar, varying his grip and changing direction. I watched with amazement at the way he skillfully controlled his body around the steel frame. Finally he swung around the bar gaining enough momentum to spring upwards, his body rotating a few times before he stuck a strong landing, reaching his arms up with achievement. The perfect execution of his routine earned him the Gold Medal with Dorothy running up to him, tears of joy streaking down her face as they celebrated a big win. Lance and I lost touch before he the 2004 Olympics but I watched as he took home the Silver medal. I was proud of him though Dorothy was the true celebrant that day; this was the culmination of the sacrifices she made.

A lot can happen in four years. In the four years between the Olympics Lance had turned from a boy on the brink of adulthood to a man at twenty-one, standing taller, stronger and more determined than ever. He pushed himself to train harder, wanting another shot at the gold.

Lance moved to Houston, Texas to train full time with Kevin Mazeika of the Houston Gymnastics Academy. Mazeika who has served on the National Team Coaching staff since 1988 spoke about Lance before Beijing stating “I’ve never met anyone as focused as Lance Tucker. He eats, sleeps and breathes gymnastics. He wants to be the best and I’ll tell ya [sic] with the way he’s training he just might be.”

Lance put himself through a grueling diet to ensure his body was at its peak physical condition. He pushed himself to the limit as he worked on his routines. He became a machine, training until ever imperfection was eradicated. He needed to be perfect.

Lance was obsessed, needing to win the gold to feel validation from the unnecessary demands he put on himself. He only visited home during the holidays and quickly returned to Houston to train. As Lance bent forward to receive his gold medal he was a changed man. He reached the top of the mountain and instead of being thankful for the journey and the sacrifices made he was boasting. To commemorate his win Lance got his infamous ribbon tattoo, an impulsive decision he looks back on today and regrets.

Lance was at the top of his career after his Olympic win, becoming the youngest National Team Coordinator in US Gymnastics history, purposely taking a position with the women’s team because his self-admitted ego would not allow him to train the men’s team and become overshadowed by anyone.

Lance had a successful career living in Los Angeles when he wasn’t travelling for USA Gymnastics and then his world came to a complete halt when the scandals broke.

Psychologists have argued about the various reasons why we like scandals. They’re a form of entertainment, a real life soap opera that plays out before our eyes, they give us distraction from our own lives, sometimes making us feel good if we can compare ourselves to the persons involved and think we’re better than them because of this.

In the early 1990’s sports scandals became surprisingly common beginning with the attack on Nancy Kerrigan followed by the O.J. Simpson murder trial. The scandals were ubiquitous between the endless cycle of news programs and media coverage.

On the day of the Simpson verdict everyone was waiting with bated breath, with workplaces standing still, listening to the radio to hear whether the former football player was deemed guilty or innocent. The actual verdict was irrelevant since the story was so sensationalized it had become detached from the facts. Instead of being concerned about the horrific murder of Nicole Brown-Simpson and Ron Goldman, the country was in hysterics over Johnnie Cochran’s infamous glove line. It seems like people will always enjoy the entertainment that scandals bring as long as they aren’t affected by them personally.

When Lance Tucker was at the center of various scandals his life was forever changed. A student accused him of fathering her child, another accused him of rape, and while every accusation was proven to be untrue Lance was let go by USA Gymnastics, a direct result of the case with former National Team Doctor Larry Nassar. USAG was under fire for not protecting the athletes as their employees who worked in and around Nassar at the Karolyi Ranch failed to report or tried to cover up the incidences.

Lance believed he was wrongfully let go as he was innocent and began to prepare an appeal until he received devastating news about his mother. Dorothy had cancer and with that knowledge Lance shed the hard exterior he created, his arrogance cracking on the ground like shattered glass.

Lance returned to Spring Hill, taking up permanent residence to be closer to Dorothy and assist her with treatment. Lance sacrificed his career, having neither the time nor desire to make an appeal to USA Gymnastics, staying in the shadows instead to care for his mother, the woman who sacrificed so much during her life for him.

Eventually Lance needed a source of income as the money he previously earned through endorsements was dwindling quickly thanks to the expensive healthcare system. He refinanced his home to start a business, Tucker Gymnastics in the heart of his hometown.

While Dorothy battled cancer Lance found the strength to fight as well, finally appealing the committee’s decision with a motion to be reinstated. Lance’s decision to do so was not for himself but for his mother, wanting to make up for his past behavior when fame and arrogance became more important in his life. He sought to bring honor back to the Tucker name so that Dorothy would know how appreciative Lance was for all the sacrifices she made for him, though Dorothy didn’t need any of that. She loves her son wholeheartedly and she would do it all over again to ensure his happiness, knowing his love in return is all she ever needed.

Tucker Gymnastics is in its infancy but under the care and direction of Lance Tucker I have no doubt the gymnastics center will flourish. Lance has lived a lifetime of ups and downs both personal and professional. He’s an excellent teacher and coach, and future gymnasts will have an opportunity to learn great things from him.

However the greatest gift Lance can give to his future students is the knowledge of firsthand experience. Lance wants them to learn about the path to the top of the mountain and the sacrifices they will make along the way. He wants to provide guidance for when they’re at the top and how to safely get back down and avoid the mistakes he’s made.

The price of gold is high and Lance Tucker wants to ensure his students know the sacrifice it takes to pay it.◼️

Lance had been crying as he read the article, wiping his tears on his sleeve. He was overcome with emotion as you fondly recalled your memories of his childhood, painted his life honestly and above all unexpectedly praising his mother in a way no one else had done before.

It was beautiful. He sniffled, ripping a paper towel off the roll and blowing his nose with it. His heart ached as it beat against his chest wondering how he ever could have questioned you in regards to the phone call. His throat became dry so he quickly finished his sports drink, wiping the tears from his face once more.

Lance didn’t know what to do with himself now. He felt terrible and wanted to apologize. He wanted to speak with you, to fly to New York and hold you in his arms again. To tell you how much you meant to him, to tell you that he loves you.

He ruined things between you though. He was embarrassed with himself, he yelled at you for the first time in his life and he hated it. He yelled at you like his father yelled at his mother, raising his voice loud enough to talk over you, shouting from the pit of his stomach. He was cruel, just like his father, the comparison disgusts him. He didn’t deserve you.

Lance took a shower to clear his mind and after tossing and turning for hours he finally grabbed his phone from the nightstand, opening your message and briefly replying “Print it.”

The beeping of your alarm awoke you from the peaceful sleep you finally managed to fall into. The moment your eyes opened you went to your phone. You hated how eager you were to see if Lance responded but you had to. Seeing his reply made your heart race but as you read his message it stopped entirely.

Lance’s short reply brought tears to your eyes. At least Susan will be happy he’s going forward with the article but there was no mention of your apology even though you explained the truth. Maybe he still thinks you’re lying or maybe he doesn’t care. The fact that his response was all business made you painfully aware of the fact that whatever you and Lance had in the past is where it should have stayed.

Months passed and you were now in the middle of a new assignment that had you packed in a stadium in Nashville, Tennessee, with thousands of people celebrating as others criticized a controversial call made by the referee. It was a decision that led to the Pittsburgh Penguins winning the Stanley Cup finals. Though he is captain, Sidney Crosby is as soft spoken as they come. He exudes a calm demeanor one wouldn’t expect when you think of hockey players, especially not a back-to-back championship winner.

The Penguins were celebrating their win tonight and though Sidney was happy for his team he was looking forward to going home to Nova Scotia to spend time with his family. He’s a fairly private person, not feeling the need to be on social media. His Foundation serves as his online presence but only to promote the work it does supporting children. Though his Olympic wins are something he regards with fondness, his true pride was opening a hockey school in his hometown of Halifax.

There was so much of Sidney that reminded you of Lance and you couldn’t help but think about him. He was always on your mind and though you wanted to reach out in the past in the hopes of reconciling again you didn’t. Lance didn’t want you.

Adjacent to the arena was the hotel everyone was staying in, celebrating their win with a spread of food and champagne. Nashville was famous for its delicious barbecue but right now your mind and taste buds were being blown away by hot chicken. Your nose was running, your fingers were coated with a delicious glaze that you sucked into your mouth. Still, you needed a napkin.

You stood up in search for more, because the singular one you initially took was not enough, passing loud and slightly tipsy players who were enjoying their win. Feeling your phone vibrate in your pocket you rushed to clean your hands, answering your mom’s call just in time.

It was hard to hear so you told her to hang on as you squeezed past a group of very large hockey players. You found yourself in a less noisy hallway and finally greeted her properly.

“Hi mom, what’s up?” you shouted, sticking your finger in your other ear to block out the background noise.

Your mother exhaled a heavy breath into the phone, her voice shaking with sorrow as she said, “Dorothy Tucker passed away.”

PART 18

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