#'aw poor precious little baby can barely handle our cocks' | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

anystalker707 · 3 years

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Needy

Pairing: Gerard x Reader Word count: ~ 1 200 Genre: Fluff / Smut Summary: (Y/n) gives Gerard a handjob and maybe they get caught. Kind of content: Dirty talk / Handjob / Lowkey humiliation

Requested by @angie-migel

“I– Does this even lock properly?” I furrow my eyebrows as I try to lock the door. It opens back again, slightly, like the lock was never a thing. “Okay, it doesn’t, great.” I can’t help but to chuckle at how miserable it is. The band better start making more money soon so we can stay on actually nice hotels and not some half assed ones like this – and also get a fucking bus, a decent one.

“At least we got nothing worth stealing,” Gerard chuckles and I can’t help but to do the same, shaking my head to myself.

“I mean, yeah,” I mutter, closing the door slowly so it will stay closed, at least as closed as possible. “You’re kinda right, but if I wake up and my phone and the van or instruments are gone, I’ll fucking freak out.”

“Fair.” He tilts his head.

I nod quietly and take on making sure everything is alright, putting on some comfortable clothes before I sit down on the bed. The numbers on the lockscreen of my phone say it’s still 9:12pm, but it honestly feels like it’s far past midnight after an extremely tiring day – the only inaccurate point is how it’s not anywhere near midnight.

“I feel like I could collapse now and only wake up tomorrow in the afternoon,” I groan, running my hands through my hair. A bed has never felt so comfortable and I swear this isn’t even a good bed.

Gerard smiles, throwing a glance my way, before he’s turning off the lights and coming closer. Only the faint light of the lamp on the bedside table fills the room, impressively doing a worse job than the lightpost across the street, which illuminates the room more than I’d like it to.

“C’mere!” I open my arms and he gladly lies down next to me.

We shift around for a bit until we find a nice position; I hug him from behind, sighing softly as I bury my face in the back of his neck and it’s just so good. I could stay like this forever.

Or not.

Gerard starts shifting and at first I think he’s just looking for a nice position, but he doesn’t stop.

“Gerard.” I furrow my eyebrows, pulling myself up lightly to take a look at his face. “Gee– Are you alright? Why are you fidgeting around so much? Something wrong?”

“No, sorry,” he breathes.

I narrow my eyes, humming. “Gerard.”

“Okay, fine,” Gerard groans, shifting around a bit again. “I– It’s just been long since we’ve last had time to each other, y’know? I’m, uh, needy,” he says almost inaudibly.

Oh, right, it all makes sense now, since the clingy mood a few days ago. “Is that so, hun?” I nuzzle the back of his neck, pressing soft kisses to it as my grip around him tightens so I can bring him closer. “You’re needy? All you needed was to tell me,” I say softly, reaching a hand to palm him through his pants, feeling him half-hard already – he exhales shakily.

“Sorry,” Gerard groans, helplessly thrusting his hips forward.

“It’s alright, baby.” I tug onto the sensitive skin of his neck with my teeth, enough to have Gerard whining and he wasn’t lying when he said he’s needy. To be fair, it’s really been a while, so it’s not a surprise he’s that sensitive – he gasps and bucks his hips forward when I give him a particular squeeze.

Gerard’s wearing a simple pair of gray sweatpants, which doesn’t make it hard for me to lower them along with his boxers and pull his cock out, pumping it gently at first – nonetheless, he gasps, back pressed against my chest at the same time he bucks his hips forward.

“Aw, baby, look at the state you’re in already and I’ve barely touched you,” I hum, lips lingering over the side of his neck.

“(Y/– (Y/n),” he cries softly once I tighten my grip, though I never increase the speed, only watching his reaction as I move my hand slowly, letting my thumb sink along his length and fuck, he immediately starts moaning, squirming. He whines, burying his face in the pillow, moans escaping his lips one after the other as precum pools on his tip.

“Wish I could hear all the pretty moans you’re making,” I say softly into his ear – he practically melts. “Maybe the next time we fix a proper hotel. I’m going to ruin you so bad, hun, I can barely wait for it.” A louder moan, almost a cry is muffled against the pillow.

Suddenly, however, there’s a knock on the door. Oh, damn.

“Gerard?” It’s Ray – he doesn’t open the door, but his shadow is visible through the thin slice of light that slips in the room, coming from the hallway, due to the lockless door. “Hey, dude, sorry to bother, but can I use your hairspray on our next show? Mine’s out since my hair is all fluffy, y’know? Is it alright?”

“Yeah,” Mikey breathes, probably behind Ray, “me too. Is it okay, Gee?”

Gerard quietens down. Is he going to pretend he’s asleep or something?

“Answer them,” I whisper to him, not stopping my hand motions.

“U-Uh,” he cleans his throat, which doesn’t really work a lot. “I don’t mind, y-yeah! Go on, you can totally use it!”

“Good boy.” I press a kiss to his neck and let my finger linger on a spot under the head of his cock, making him buck his hips forward almost immediately, although not letting any considerably loud sound escape.

“Thanks,” Ray replies, sounding like he’s about to leave. “Oh, also, are you okay, Gerard? You sound kinda sick, man, y’know?”

Mikey hums in agreement. “That’d be bad for the next concert.”

Gerard’s really tense and, knowing him, it only means one thing. I know it’s evil, I know it’s for my own entertainment but I still can’t help it and move my hand faster, grip tighter around him.

“Answer,” I tell him again, nibbling down on his neck.

“Y-Yeah,” Gerard stutters, “I’m fi–” The sentence, though, never comes to an end, his words replaced by a loud moan he’s not able to muffle this time, thrusting his hips into my hand hopelessly among all the sticky mess covering it. So fucking good, I can’t fucking handle him; I nuzzle the back of his neck, hearing the guys cursing outside, but it doesn’t really matter. They push the door close before rushing away, as closed as it can be, at least.

I clean my hand away after finding a shirt lying around and sigh as I adjust Gerard’s pants – they’re not even back to their place properly when he’s turning over, hugging me tightly and burying his face in my chest.

“What’s wrong, hun?” I press a kiss to his head, running a hand up and down his back.

“I–” Gerard breathes, shakily, voice teary. “They caught me! And I-I sound so terrible!” he cries, hands closed tightly around my shirt.

“Aw, baby, no,” I say softly, starting to play with his hair. “It doesn’t matter that they heard it, it isn’t like they’ll judge you or stop being friends with you, alright? And you were such a good boy for me, y’know that? My pretty sweet boy. And you don’t sound terrible, I love all of your poor little moans.” I press another kiss to his head, feeling him continuing to cry, though it’s not so bad now. “You’re so precious,” I mumble.

#my post #fanfiction #fan fic #sm*t #fluff #n*fw #mcr #gerard way x reader #imagine #gerard way #x reader #oneshot #mcr oneshot #mcr imagine #bullets #request #sub gerard #writing #my chemical romance

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hisunshiine · 3 years

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𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭

♡ 𝘯𝘢𝘮𝘫𝘰𝘰𝘯 𝘹 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘹 𝘫𝘶𝘯𝘨𝘬𝘰𝘰𝘬

♡ 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴

♡ 𝘴𝘮𝘶𝘵

♡ 𝘸𝘤: 3343

an: commissioned story

Walking up the stairs to your best friends’ apartment, you hang your cape over your shoulder, defeated. Waiting patiently as Namjoon unlocked the front door, Jungkook shuffled side to side, just as upset as you, the evidence written across his face. His signature bunny smile, nowhere to be found, was replaced with a pout fixed on his face as he followed you into the apartment while Namjoon struggled to get the key back out of the golden deadbolt lock.

The sound of shoes being slipped off filled the silence along with jangling keys and the low murmur of curses followed by a soft exclamation of joy as Namjoon shut the door.

“I’m sorry babe. I didn’t know it was cancelled. I didn’t check my email before we left...”

You tossed your purple cape over the couch and got comfy in your favorite spot. Tucked into the left corner of the couch, your sheer pantyhose legs crossed, you dropped your head onto the back rest of the couch and attempted to look at Namjoon still in the entryway. Dressed up as Thor, his arms flexed nicely as you watched him put his shoes on the rack by the door, grown out blond hair falling in his face.

“Joonie, it’s fine. I don’t blame you. I’m just sad we didn’t get to show off our hard work.” You gesture at your outfit, Raven from Teen Titans, and shrugged. Left in just the black long sleeved leotard and hosiery, you sigh.

“Poor Kookie here has been doing pushups and crunches for the past two weeks so that he could pull off a gladiator from 300.” You turned your gaze to Jungkook, perched on the barstool next to the kitchen counter, elbow braced on the table to hold his head up as he sulked. “Nice job by the way, you got a lot of looks when we were walking up to the convention center.”

He laughed, shameless as always when showing off his beautifully built frame.

“Hey, I think the woman with the baby stroller really enjoyed the view.”

“I would hope so, she damn near tripped over her own child breaking her neck to stare.”

You lean up as Namjoon makes his way over to the couch, your eyes following the way his well-built body moves in the ludicrously tight Thor outfit.

“What can we do to make it up to you? We rarely get a day off like this, all together.”

He was right. Adulting had made the time spent with your best friends almost nonexistent. Attempts to hang out, all three of you, rarely went off without a hitch; with Namjoon receiving calls from the office about accounts in progress, or Jungkook having to go in to work with the local sports team as their trainer during both on and off seasons, and you working your 9 to 5. It was stressful.

“Honestly, just spending time with you guys is all I need.”

Namjoon lifted your legs to sit next to you, placing them in his lap as Jungkook jumped up and grabbed a dusty, small box off the living room bookshelf. An old deck of Uno cards that you all used to stay up late and play in college is tossed onto the coffee table while Jungkook’s feet carried him to the kitchen, where he grabbed a few beers.

“For old time’s sake?”

——————

Uno had turned into Strip Uno quickly, once you all were a few beers deep. The opaque green glass bottles were set off to the side of the coffee table as the three of you sat around, tipsy and half naked, laughing at each other.

Jungkook had been the first one to lose an article of clothing, his Leonidas style crown tossed on the other side of the couch with Namjoon’s discarded cape. Namjoon followed suit with his costume shirt being next to disappear from his body. The males’ losing streak ended when you were the unlucky one to lose a large item, your black leotard. It wasn’t long before Jungkook, who had already been shirtless, had lost his roman gladiator skort, and Namjoon’s pants made it onto the clothing pile, leaving the three of you sitting comfortably in half-nakedness.

“God, I can’t believe we used to really trade girls back and forth, hyung.” Jungkook was laughing as he remembered some of their crazier antics, which you knew all about as their best friend. You’d even walked into some compromising situations once or twice, and saw exactly what each of them was working with below the belt.

“I can, man, we were insatiable. Fuck, we still are Kook, don’t act like just because we’re working now crazy shit still doesn’t happen.”

Namjoon’s eyes were low, the alcohol in his system making him feel nice.

“You’re right,” Jungkook giggled, face red from intoxication, “just way less often. It’s been what? 4 months or so? We need to throw a party or something.”

“You guys are just as bad as you were in college.” You say, leaning back into the couch behind you. None of you had moved from the floor where you had sat around the table to play Uno.

“Oh, right. I forgot that you were our ‘goody two shoes’ girl. Never did anything wrong...” Namjoon tried to roll his eyes, but the half-moon shape barely showed the whites of his eyes.

“That’s not true… I was just way better at being discreet. It wasn’t the campus’ business who I let between my legs.”

“We played ‘never have I ever’ so many times, though… You never did anything bad.” Jungkook pouted at you, thinking you were lying to him. In reality, you lied back then. It wasn’t anyone’s business and you weren’t going to expose others’ sex lives just for some drinking game.

“I did, I just didn’t put a finger down,” you laughed. “I still drank what I was supposed to, I just didn’t want to be questioned about my threesomes and shit.”

Namjoon couldn’t believe what he heard. You, his precious best female friend, had a threesome before. The air in the room shifts, the tension palpable in the room.

“No, not my YN. You’re the good one.” Namjoon stated jokingly, though you could sense he was still serious.

“I need the details, YN.” Jungkook stared at you, eyes steady as he pinned you with his gaze.

His look is full of desire, and you can see him move ever so slightly as if he was uncomfortable. Jungkook’s hand moves to cover his hardening cock, but not before you can see that it was exactly what was making him so uncomfortable in his boxer briefs.

“It was nothing wild, Koo. We were drunk, it was college, one of them, the girl, said that getting eaten out feels better by a woman, the other said no way and said he was the best ever to do it, so I volunteered to test out their theory and draw an end to the pissing contest.”

You chuckled to yourself as you remembered how much fun it was. The memory turned you on slightly; you can feel your arousal drip onto your thong.

“So who was better?”

“She was, definitely.”

Namjoon shakes his head and Jungkook leans back, incredulous. Both had leaned in towards you as you told the short story, falling on every word that you said.

“Pfft! No way, I could totally out-do the chick.”

“Same. He didn’t know what he was doing, clearly.”

You shifted your body to get more comfortable, sitting with your knees bent and spread open in an L shape as you leaned back against the seat of the couch. You may have been curvy, but you were comfortable around Jungkook and Namjoon as they had known you for so long and seen you in various stages of undress, sobriety, and moods.

“I mean, we can always test it out.” You gesture your arm out at the 2 of them, resting your forearm on the knee that is bent up to the sky.

It’s silent, deadly, as they stare at you. Jungkook’s eyes roam your body that is on display for him, instinctively licking his lips. Namjoon, who was still leaned towards you, gives a smirk that has you… excited.

“Baby, you couldn’t handle me.”

“Awe, Joonie, it’s cute that you think so.”

“I’d be better at it anyways.” Jungkook chimed in. That cocky confidence oozing over him as he mimics your pose, though leaning back on his palm, arm extended to share part of his weight.

“Mmm.. I don’t know Kookie, I think Namjoon has been at it a little longer than you, plus, no offense, but he has fuller lips...” You turn away from Jungkook’s pout toward Namjoon, who’s still got that damn smirk on his face.

He moved forward, practically stalking on his hands and knees as he brings himself into your personal space. You watch the way his chest and arms flex, mouth practically drooling at the sight.

“You've been sizing me up, baby?” His voice is low, deeper as he let his hunger for you show. His hand slides along your hip, fingers curling gently around you. “You think about how good it would feel, my tongue between your legs?”

He’s surprised that you didn’t pull away. When you reached up and grabbed a handful of his blond locks and tugged, you reveled in the low groan he let out, eyes fixated on his quivering Adam’s apple as the sinful sound reverberated throughout the apartment.

“Damn—” your eyes snapped to Jungkook, whose pupils had dilated as he watched the interaction between you and his hyung. His mouth hung open; he hadn’t realized he had verbalized his thoughts.

“Everything okay, bun?” you asked, using Jungkook’s pet name that you loved to use when teasing him.

He cleared his throat, his hand stroking gently at his clothed cock, trying to ease the ache.

“Yeah—please, continue.”

You realized he was addressing Namjoon when you felt his parted lips skim across your neck, soft and wet as his tongue joined. Latching on gently, you rolled your head back allowing him more access as you yourself were now the one affected, moaning breathily as his solid frame hovered over you, pressing you back into the couch. You tightened your grip on his hair, and he bit your neck a little harder in response.

Eyes fluttered closed, you felt a second set of hands on you, palms sliding along the pantyhose that still covered your legs.

“I know you’ve thought about this...” Jungkook’s lips moved along your tummy as he talked, small kisses along the waistband of your hosiery. “Can practically feel how badly you want this.”

His fingers dipped into your band and began to tug them down, freeing your thighs from their confines. You arched your back, unable to not react as he mouthed loudly at your clothed core, his tongue flicking against the cotton to trace the outline of your needy clit as he groaned with the inhale of your arousal.

Namjoon on the other hand was quieter, mouth busy sucking light bruises to your skin as his large hands palmed your ample breasts. As he kissed down your neck and collar bone, he pulled one mound from your bra, laving his tongue around your aroused nipple to pull sounds out of you.

So enthralled in the feel of Namjoon, you don’t notice that Jungkook has you stripped bare, not until he’s nudged your thighs apart and settled himself between, a trail of wet kisses along your inner thigh almost unnoticed due to the amount of pleasure you’re feeling—that is until his lips latched onto your clit, a combined sucking motion with a flicking tongue, made your free hand dive into his mess of dark strands, directing his ministrations.

“Fuck, Jungkook, d-don’t stop.”

Namjoon moved to be behind you, replacing the couch as your backing as Jungkook circled his arms around your thighs and pulled you down closer to his feasting mouth. Namjoon began to kiss at your neck, hands resumed their massaging of your chest, nipples rolling between his fingers as you held Jungkook’s head so you could roll your hips, fucking yourself on his tongue.

Feeling it build, the delightful coiling in your abdomen snaps when Jungkook enters you with a thrust of his two fingers and strokes roughly along your walls, brushing the rough patch of bundled nerves. You cry out, head thrown back onto Namjoon’s shoulder as you buck, hips rolling as you ride out your high on Jungkook’s face.

“Definitely think that I was better than that girl, huh, angel?”

You nod, never one to lie about how good or bad someone is sexually.

“You let me have the control to fuck your face, it was amazing.” You tell him, your chest rapidly moving as you attempted to regulate your breathing.

“My turn.”

You feel more than see Namjoon switch places with Jungkook, maneuvering your body to a more comfortable position. Jungkook’s cock, hard and erect, is now pressed between your back and his abs when you leaned back onto him.

“Oh, he left you such a mess, baby.” Namjoon licks a stripe along your swollen clit, lapping at the juices. You’re still sensitive, but he pushed your thighs apart so his large hands could hold you in place as he slowly teased at your folds until you felt yourself leaning into it, wanting more instead of squirming away.

“Right there Joonie—shit, that feels—oh!”

Namjoon’s thumb rubbed wet circles on your swollen nub as his tongue explored every inch of you, teasing and tasting. Jungkook held you tight in his embrace, preventing you from running now that you could feel your second orgasm building.

To make your judgement fair, Jungkook’s lips and hands touched your body where he could reach, knowing that Namjoon’s ministrations had added to your heightened senses when it had been him gracing the spot between your thighs.

Namjoon’s nose pressed against your clit as he open-mouth kissed your heat, devouring as much as he could of your release before you replaced what he had cleaned up. You could feel the growing orgasm spreading through your veins, the thrum of your beating heart loud in your ears until Namjoon inserted his fingers. The squelching sound as your walls sucked his first two fingers into you caused both men to groan, the vibrations of the one feasting leading you to arch your back into Jungkook’s chest. Toes curling, your mouth is open as you try and catch your breath, but Namjoon did the same move as Jungkook and you squirmed as it consumed you, a crackling of electricity taking over your senses.

Sitting up, Namjoon grinned over your shoulder, knowing that the move his younger roommate taught him all those years ago never fails.

“I would say that makes it 1 for Jungkook, 1 for Namjoon, as we now hold the title ‘better than the girl who rocked your world’, right JK? Our good girl is finally enjoying being bad.”

Namjoon’s chin and lips were slicked with your cum, and you nodded, still a little fucked out as you came down.

“Damn, I wonder what prize we should get?”

Lifting an eyebrow, you sat up off Jungkook's chest, propelling yourself forward until you were on your hands and knees, eye level with Namjoon’s obvious hard-on. Licking your lips, his eyes followed the movement. He watched your every move as you leaned down, opened your mouth slowly, and lowered your tongue to the fabric covering his erection. You hear Jungkook inhale at the view you provide, sopping cunt on display.

“Mmph.. shit, baby.” Namjoon’s cock twitches as your mouth, hot and wet, teases his most sensitive area, and when he lifts his hips slightly, chasing as you pull away, you decide to show him exactly how much you enjoy being bad.

Your hands have pulled his boxer briefs down and the bulbous tip has entered your mouth before he was able to see the glint in your eye. Taking him into your mouth fully, he let out a sound you never thought you’d hear from him, a loud moan higher than his usual tone and accompanied with movement from his hips as he thrust up. Spit from your mouth dripped down his shaft as you pulled back.

You heard Jungkook mutter a curse as your hips swayed seductively in his face, and you removed your lips off of Namjoon with a wet pop sound, replacing your mouth with your hand as you stroked his length. Turning your head to peek over your shoulder, you follow Jungkook’s gaze, smirking.

“Hey Bun, you gonna stare at it all night, or are you going to fill me up?”

You giggled as he scrambled up onto his knees, his hands tugging at his underwear to free himself from the restraining fabric. You grasp Namjoon’s thighs before you lower yourself again, the thrust of Jungkook entering you from behind pushing you farther onto Namjoon’s cock. The moan vibrates along his shaft, and Namjoon’s toes curl as you swallow around him, tongue tracing the thick vein.

“Fuck, you’re so wet...” Jungkook’s voice, melodious as he vocalizes with each thrust, causes you to clench involuntarily as he splits you. The burn from the stretch feels good, so good, and you push back onto him, fucking yourself as his hands hold onto your curves.

“Her mouth… Jungkook, her mouth is—” you hollow your cheeks as you vacillate up and down, and Namjoon can no longer form words. His hands cup your face as he watches you worship him, oblivious to the words of praise Jungkook is saying.

“YN, fuck baby, your pussy is squeezing me so tight… You take my cock so well, better than I dreamed of.”

The spit that had gathered in your mouth dripped down and as you massaged Namjoon’s balls, the spit added to his pleasure. You felt them constrict in your hands, his cock twitching as your first warning.

“Baby, I—” you nod, knowing what he wants to say, and the action made him squeeze his whiskey colored eyes shut before he came, ropes of hot cum filling your mouth. Once he opened his eyes again, you made eye contact, pulling off of him and opening your mouth so Namjoon could see the translucent coating on your tongue before you swallowed it.

“Shit.”

His dilated pupils watched as you continued to use Jungkook to massage your g-spot, impaling yourself on him while you used a free hand to massage at your clit. Your third orgasm was a little harder to come by, not without a little help, so you told Jungkook what you needed.

“Choke me.”

You couldn’t see the way his doe eyes grew unimaginably wider as he maneuvered his right hand to grip your throat and apply just the right amount of pressure, allowing you to ascend towards climax. You fucked him harder, ass slapping against his thighs harshly. He released your throat, both hands firmly grasping your hips. A slap to your ass from Jungkook’s hand spurred your words.

“Cum in me Kookie, fill me like Joon did—”

“Ah, fuck, I’m cumm—”

When your walls fluttered, Jungkook groaned and immersed himself as deep into your dripping core as he could so he could fill you as you gushed your arousal around him, juices mingling as you collapsed onto the carpet, Jungkook’s softening dick slipping from inside you as he moved to lay next to you.

Panting, you rolled onto your back, head on Namjoon’s thigh as you waited for your breathing to settle. Jungkook was already smiling and looking none the worse for wear, physically. He moved to lay his head on your tummy, an arm thrown over your body while Namjoon’s hand smoothed the hair away from your face.

“I think that’s… 2 for me,” you say, “and 1 for each of you.”

Both men look at you in awe as you finish speaking, “...so what were you saying earlier about me being your ‘good girl’?”

♡

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5hfanfiction · 7 years

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The Price We Pay (Chapter Two)

Her missions tended to be very similar in what she was supposed to do and how was to do it. Her master would give her a folder with all of the target’s information, and she would kill them. It was a simple as that. Those are the missions she enjoyed the least; uncomplicated, easy missions, where she could summon a few arrows and the target would be dead.

Her favorite missions, on the other hand, were like the one she was currently assigned to, where master chose to sell her services to someone else who required her specific set of skills.

She’d be away from the manor for some time now, enjoying her faux freedom in a different city, away from the prying eyes of her master. He’s been different recently since she gave him that letter a week ago, locking himself in his office. She’s found him in Lauren’s old bedroom on many different occasions now as well. Something was going on that he was keeping from her. She didn’t care too much; he was her master, so she would never question him.

“Have you ever been to Miami?” The older man, Richard Mathers, sitting across from her asked as they waited for the private plane to take off. They’ve been on the tarmac for hours now, or it could have only felt that way given the way the pervy man would not stop eyeing her muscled body. It didn’t matter though; if he got too close she could easily handle him. Hell, she could easily handle anyone. She thinks he knows that since he hadn’t made a single move to get closer even though the stewardess has left them alone for some time now. “It’s a beautiful city full of beautiful people. A lot of gorgeous Mexican girls like yourself, chica.”

“I’m not Mexican.” She replied flatly, watching as finally, finally, the light to buckle up popped on and they started moving a few minutes later. She’d been irritable ever since her master had told her where, exactly, she’d been going on the mission. Usually, she loved these missions to get away from everything back home, but not when they brought her to Miami. “I’m from Cuba.”

“Same difference, gorgeous.” His teeth were too white when his lips pulled back in a grimy smile, his skin way too wrinkle free for his age to be anything other than Botox. “Mexican is Mexican, baby. Now, why don’t you come over here and show me how those Mexican girls move their hips?”

Summoning her abilities came as naturally as breathing now. All it took was slowing her breathing and envisioning the arrow forming in her hand. She knew her eyes flashed white based on how Richard’s own dark eyes flashed in fear and his gaze jerked to the arrow in her hand. Behind that fear though, she could see a hint of awe. “He must not have seen someone use their abilities up close like this”, she thought. Cockily, she gave him a challenging smirk and said, “Why don’t you come here and I’ll show you what else I can move so well?”

Richard was scared into silence for only a moment before a large smile overtook his tan face, clapping and laughing loudly. Clearly, he was pleased. “I knew I picked the right sorceress for the job! Michael talked very highly of you, and I knew you could get the job done right! But seeing it in person… wow!” He paused, and then softer, with more compassion than Camila thought possible coming from a man like him, he said, “Your price is a steep one, then?” and lightly touched the side of his mouth, where Camila could feel blood beginning to leak out of. She’d tasted the copper liquid seconds ago, but let it dribble out to prove another point to him. It was a stupid waste of her powers, a stupid move on her part to waste precious blood, but- fuck it. “I have a daughter only a few years younger than you. I couldn’t imagine what it would be like if she had abilities like yourself.”

“Would you exploit her as you exploit our services? This is not your first time using my master’s organization.” Camila kept her gaze on the window, watching the clouds fly by them as the stewardess finally passed, and handed her a napkin for her mouth. The blood had stopped flowing, but she let it stain her jaw, let it coat her lips. She had grown to love the taste of blood. When Richard didn’t answer, she mumbled, “I couldn’t imagine not having abilities. I pity the people who are normal.”

“I have no interest in knowing why you want this person taken care of. All I care about is getting the job done and getting the money from it,” Camila shrugged as they sat in the hotel room Richard had rented for her. She’d be spending a week in Miami most likely, as this wasn’t a typical kill and leave sort of mission. She’d been picked to gather intel for her master and client as well- on a topic she had no idea of. Which annoyed her, but she’d never complained. She’d figure it out in time. “I’ll need a few days to figure out his basic schedule- who he talks to the most and where he frequents. I’ll gather as much information as I can. Most likely I will kill him in his office, that way I’ll have immediate access to his files. Men like him tend to work late hours; it shouldn’t be hard to get him alone late one night.”

Richard stood off to the side, a glass of brandy in hand as he cocked his head at the seventeen-year-old girl before him. She was.. magnificent in the worst of ways, a thunderstorm about to burst. He has never met anyone like her before and knew she’d be able to get his job done expertly and swiftly. He had never been more impressed and scared by a child. There was an ounce of pity in him towards the girl though, especially as he looked at the part of her chin still stained red. He’s seen steep prices before, but he couldn’t imagine vomiting blood after summoning just one arrow.

“Do you have something to say, Mr. Mathers?” The girl smirked without looking at him, focusing instead on the papers scattered chaotically across the coffee table. She had gotten to work right away, opening all the files Richard had given her and beginning to plan the assassination. Michael had promised it would be in less than ten days, a rather impressive feat given how much had promised his sorceress to handle. “Because if you do not, I do not need the distractions. I have to get started.” She stood, moving to a suitcase stored by the front door that Richard knew held her suit and any supplies she may need. The benefit of using Sorcerer Assassin’s over humans was they needed very little tools other than their own abilities. “I will call you in two days, Mr. Mathers. Do not contact me first- do not come see me either. You took a risk even following me into this hotel room. The less contact we have the better. Just in case.”

“Are you expecting there to be issued, Miss. Camila?” Richard smirked more, toying with the girl, not bothering to hide his attraction towards her. She was unique. Utterly exquisite.

“I have come so far because I don’t let anything to take me by surprise. I expect the worst every time and produce the best results. So leave, Mr. Mathers, before I decide you are worth more to me skinned than alive.” He said nothing in response, and a moment later Camila heard footsteps against the dark wood of the floor followed by the door easing shut, and she let loose a breath. That man bothered her more than she cared to admit, and she was looking forward to a few days of moving through the city without him shamelessly ogling her.

Even if the city was fucking Miami.

Camila was ten when Michael Jauregui found her, lost and crying on the streets because she had fucked up so bad. The boy was barely breathing when she ran from the birthday party, panicked and terrified over having hurt her friend. Everyone was too stunned to do anything other than stand there as Camila took off, but she heard the boy’s mother screaming for help, and then heard her own mother calling her name. As she ran, blood suddenly filled her mouth, and she had to heave into a gutter. It was so much… and even at ten years old she knew something was not right. They’ve lived in the same house ever since they immigrated here from Argentina five years ago, and so she grew up running through this neighborhood with the other kids, knew all the best hiding spots for hiding and seek. Her parents didn’t stand a chance to find her, especially when she ran into the trees.

She had been looking for the rundown tree house they typically used to hide in, but most have gone down the wrong path or something because before she knew it the sun was setting and she was exiting the woods into a bustling shopping center. Camila had frequented with her mother and baby Sofia multiple times, but even then she didn’t know how to get back home and didn’t know if she should go back home.

Her parents were going to be furious at her, she just knew it. They had told her time and time again that weapons were very dangerous and she should never ever touch one. She has no idea how the arrow ended up in hand, sleek and black and surprisingly light, but it appeared just as she flung her arm out in the middle of her stupid temper tantrum and-

The boy screamed as he fell.

Camila couldn’t imagine her parents being anything other than completely horrified like she currently was. So she decided right then and there she would not be going home. It was a rash and poor decision made by a scared ten years old terrified of being punished over something she had no idea how she did it, and it didn’t take long to realize her mistake. People kept staring at her as she walked by almost in a daze, and a few women stopped to ask if she needed help. Every time that happened she took off running in a different direction. Before long, she was in a part of town she had never seen before. It was there that she passed a window and saw her reflection, and finally understood why everyone kept staring at her.

There was blood on her chin, nearly brown now from having been drying for hours, and stark against the pink frills of her top. It was a birthday gift from her father, one he had given her this morning to wear for her party, and she been insistent not to spill anything on it. Now it was completely ruined, because something did not right happen to her and she’s crying again as she slumped against the rough brick of the shop, nearly deserted now as the center had closed for the night. Camila didn’t know what she was going to do, didn’t know where she was going to go. Just that she could never go home and-

“Are you lost?”

Camila’s father had taught her about stranger-danger, had drilled the concept into her head so many times it was instinct at this point to run from the man crouching down before her, his head cocked to the side as he stared at her.

Yes, it was instinct to run, but- she just didn’t have the energy anymore. Instead, she sat there, tears mixing with the dried blood as the man waited for an answer, but Camila looked to the person standing slightly behind him.

They looked too similar to be anything other than father and daughter, with the same dark hair and facial features. The girl was most likely around Camila’s age, dressed in black shorts and some type of jersey, she smiled at Camila, saying, “You aren’t hurt.” Her voice was raspy even for a child, low and rough and all too knowing as the smile stayed in place. “The blood is yours but you aren’t hurt.”

“I.. It came from my mouth and I.. I… I’m scared!” She finally sobbed, jerking her legs up and hiding her face in her knees as she cried, her small body shaking. It was just the three of them now, and the unknown girl stepped closer, still smiling and placed a soft hand on Camila’s shoulder. “I… I hurt Jacob! It was. It was an accident, I swear!”

“I bet it was,” The man said gently, moving slightly closer as he forced her to look at him, a charming smile on his face. Camila was calmed slightly just staring into his dark eyes, feeling her mind go kind of blank and her shoulders relax. She doesn’t know when she stopped crying, but the man wiped her tears, never breaking eye contact as he said, “I understand what happened- we both understand,” he gestured to his daughter who nodded as he continued, “but no one else will. Your parents will hate you for what you did. Your friends will be scared of you. Jacob will never forgive you. Do you believe me?”

She did, she did, she did. With everything in her being, she believed him, unable to stop herself from nodding. It was as if she could think of nothing else but the man before her, and for some reason, she could not look away from his eyes. They were… white, and while she should be scared, there was nothing but.. but peace in her mind as the man kept talking.

“Come with us, and I can teach you how to control your abilities so you never unintentionally harm someone again. I can give you a home since your parents will not want you back. Will you come with us?” The girl was nodding her head to get to Camila to agree, and it felt as if she didn’t have the ability to say no as she took the man’s hand, allowed him to pull her up, and she followed them to the black town car waiting down the block. Little did she know that life as she knew it would change completely from just one conversation.

It had taken her some time after her admittance to the organization to understand Michael had used his abilities to get Camila to follow him, but she did not hate him for it.

As she stood and grabbed what she needed to begin tailing her target, she smiled to herself.

Joining Myriad had been the best thing to ever happen to her.

She was made to be a killer.

It just took accidentally throwing an arrow into a boy’s chest when she was ten to realize that.

It has been seven years, almost eight now since she fled her childhood home under fear of punishment, and she scarcely returns since, and when she has she goes out of her way to avoid Palmetto Beach. The chances are very slim that she’d run into her parents, but. there has always been something holding her back, a weakness she could never shake.

She avoids Carlton too.

Camila returned to Miami for the first time since she left when she was fourteen, on a mission with none other than Lauren. It was only a few months before her death, and while it was a mission that had both girls returning to their hometown, Camila has never had more fun in her life. She had been hesitant to board the plane to Florida, but. Lauren made it better.

Lauren had always made things better.

Michael had assigned Lauren to watch over Camila as this was the younger girl’s first big mission. He wasn’t completely confident the fourteen-year-old could do what needed to be done, so he sent Lauren to chaperone. The two girls sat on the plane, Lauren explaining softly what needed to be done and Camila sitting tensely, and when they landed Lauren gave their driver directions to a location that most definitely was not their rendezvous point.

“What… what are you doing?” Camila frowned as the bustling city faded from tightly formed houses and shops to larger manors separated for privacy, the car moving through a gated community after stopping to talk to security. This definitely wasn’t on their list of what needed to be done today, but Camila was interested nonetheless. “Where are we?”

“A little outside of Carlton,” Lauren said simply, a soft smile on her face as the town car rolled to a stop in front of a large house at the top of a hill, no cars in the driveway but a full garden of roses and a swing hanging from the wrap around porch. “This is my house.”

“What?” She had known Lauren spent the early part of her life in Miami, though she didn’t know it was here. These were the nicest houses Camila had ever seen in their city, especially since she had grown up in the rather poorer side of Miami. Her mother spoke very little English, and worked odd jobs here and there, while her father worked construction for a small company. She shouldn’t be surprised that Lauren lived this sort of lifestyle, given that Michael had always been a very skilled assassin.

Before taking over Myriad, Michael had been the previous Master’s right-hand man, working hard to earn the respect that title came with before his own Master was murdered and Michael took over.

“Well… it was before we moved to New York. My father bought it as a wedding gift for my mother.” The green eyed girl didn’t make a move to exit the car, and Camila couldn’t help but wonder if they would be getting closer, or if this was as close as Lauren ever allowed herself to get to her childhood home.

Camila couldn’t stop looking at the large mansion style home with large pillars in the front. It was easy to imagine a young Lauren running around the porch, jumping from the steps into the grass. She pictured a happy family, perhaps a sprinkler in the yard that little Lauren could run through while Michael and her mother watched with smiles on their faces. “Why did you leave?”

“My father couldn’t live in my mother’s house anymore. I was three when she died; six when we moved.” That must have been around the time Michael’s master died then, Camila supposed. What betters a time to start over in New York than then, especially with nothing left truly holding him back in Florida. “I come back here every time I’m in Miami, trying to.. I don’t know, remember her, I guess? It was her face I forgot first, did you know that? I couldn’t remember the shape of her nose, if she had lips like mine, or.. or, I don’t even know. Sometimes I still hear her voice when I’m sleeping, but I don’t know if it’s really her voice or what I imagine it to sound like if that makes sense?”

It does, very much so. Camila had been gone from her own home for four years now, but she still thinks of her family often. She wouldn’t allow herself to think of what it would be like if her family was actually dead and not just dead to her. “I understand, Lauren.” She had always understood her best friend.

A sudden ringing brought Camila out of her musing as she looked down to her phone, forcing her back into the present as she accepted the unsaved number, recognizing it immediately as Ally’s. They all took prepaid phones on missions, but Camila had all the important numbers memorized.

“Yeah?” She knew it had to be something important if Ally was calling during a mission, possibly risking the entire operation if Camila had been in the middle of something important. Luckily she was simply walking the streets, slowly making her way to the target’s office to scope him out.

“Camila…” Ally was too soft for this game, too nice and loving, more so than Lauren had always been, but even then Camila had never heard her be so quiet, so hesitant as she said her name. Something had happened, something big. “I can’t say much right now, and I can’t explain how I know, but I need you to believe what I’m about to say.”

“I’m in the middle of a mission; I don’t have a lot of time, so you need to make it quick.” She had reached the large building that housed the target’s office, and stopped across the street, staring up at the top floor where she knew the man to be.

“Lauren is alive, Camila.”

#UPDATE #series #AU #slash #camren #submission #The Price We Pay

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