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wiildhcartsrun · 2 months

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Entering the Captains Quarters ; Killer x OC

18+ NSFW ; MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. Minors found interacting will result in blocking

Set in the Middle of the TimeSkip, before the Kid Pirates First Encounter with Shanks

Killer tries to sneak onto the Princess Ella ship Captained by Famed Pirate, Dragondes D. Morgan - what happens as a result

Killer & Morgan ; Lap Riding

His hands were tied to the chair, behind his back with a soft fabric, his punishment for trying to sneak aboard the Princess Ella. It had been propositioned and Killer, well, he wouldn’t say no, even if he was going to be let go so long as he didn’t try anything to harm the crew if he did say no. And he’s allowed to say stop, if he wants too. The Captain, Morgan was quiet the looker. Eyes wander over to the captain of the ship as they close the door to their quarters, locking it with a mischievous smile upon their dark painted lips. “Hmm the Massacre Solider,” Voice dripping with a sultry tone as they make their way back over to him, removing the jacket they wore – throwing it to the corner of the room. “Never thought I’d be visited by one of the Worst Generation. Though I’ve heard of your crew, impressive I might add. Now, tell me – mask on, or off?”

Trailing a pointed black finger up his torso, Killer’s eyes watched the hand as it moved up his torso towards his neck before looking back at the blue haired Captain, “Off.” Morgan rested a finger under his chin, making him look them in their eyes.

“Can I take it off?” Killer nods his head, and they take it off gently – being more careful with it then they were their own jacket a moment ago. He watched as they placed it carefully to the side, before they walked over to him, finger moving to lift his face to look at their face – their dark lips tugging back into a mischievous smile, “Now,” They lean in close, lips by his ear as they say, “The fun shall begin.”

Knocking his legs apart with their leg, Morgan slowly moved their hand down his chest in a slow drag as their mouth pressed open mouthed kisses to his neck – focusing on the spot that made him gasp out, he could feel their smirk against his skin as they made the discovery. As their hand made way to the hem of his jeans, easily removing the sash he had with one hand. It wasn’t long before the button of his jeans was opened, and their warm hand found its way into the opening.

As Morgan pulled him out of his pants, Killer’s breath hitched at the feeling of their hand on him. Their hand moving in an achingly slow movements up and down his hardening cock, “Don’t hold back on me,” Morgan tells him as they lower themself down, and he let out a moan as their tongue teasingly moved up the shaft, the metal ball of their piercing making it feel amazing as they repeated the action a couple more times before wrapping their lips around the head of his cock.

Watching as they take him in their mouth, he wishes he was able to grab hold of their hair – to hold it in his hands as Morgan twists their tongue in a way that has him letting out a moan again. Taking him all in, they moan around his dick, “Fuck, feels good,” Killer moans out as they move up and down, moving their tongue in ways that have him loving the sensation. After a while, he could feel the familiar feeling, his breathing reflecting as he was reaching close to cumming.

Morgan pulls off, and he can’t help the noise that came out of him at the loss of sensation from around his dick. “Not yet,” Morgan tells him as they push themself up, their lipstick was smeared and fucking hell it made them look hot, and Killer wanted to touch them. A hand makes its way into his hair, and they give it a tug, and his dick twitches at the contact. Lips clashing with his own as they bring their knee to rest between his thighs, their other hand resting at his neck – giving some pressure as they held it there.

Eagerly kissing back with just as much enthusiasm, moaning into the kiss and allowing Morgan to explore his mouth with their tongue. Pulling away, Morgan smiles at him with a wicked smile and pulls his head back by his hair. The hand that was on his neck moved up towards his lips, thumb brushing lightly against his bottom lip, “Messy lipstick looks so good on you,” Morgan comments, moving their knee closer to his dick and he couldn’t help but trying to grind against their leather clad leg.

That movement earned him a tug on his hair, “Tsk, and I was going to let you have your hands free for the next part,” Morgan tells him as they pull away, their hands moving to their own body – moving up their thighs before they’re turning around slowly, bending over and he jerks his arm as if to touch the ass was presented right in front of him only to be quickly reminded of his hands still being tied together.

Slowly, Morgan undid their boots and kicked them off to the side before moving to start to remove their pants. It was achingly slow, watching as Morgan slowly stripped themselves off their clothing. Turning back to him when they were removing their shirt, hands running down from their shoulders, watching as they squeeze their now exposed breasts. Eyes tracing the movement of their hands as they toy with the hem of their laced underwear but not removing it.

Morgan slowly moves to behind the chair, undoing the silk that bound his hands and draping it around Killer’s neck as they now stood in front of him. Using the fabric to tug him towards them, following the movement he stands up and they pull him closer without touching him physically. Lips again next to his ear as they lean up to speak into his ear, “Strip for me, then get on the bed.”

Stepping away Morgan smiles as the eagerly watch as Killer removes his clothing, disregarding it to the ground at his feet, laying himself on the bed. It was such a beautiful sight for Morgan to watch. “Arm up, pick one.” Morgan instructs, removing their own underwear before they walk themself over to the bed, climbing on top of the bed, on top of Killer as Killer raised his left arm.

Grabbing hold of his arm, Morgan wraps the silk around his wrist before tying it to the bedpost. “You can touch me, but not yourself.”

Killer nod his head as Morgan positions themself just above his hips as they sit on him, he can feel the tip of his dick grazing against their ass. He moves his free hand to move up their thigh before giving their breasts a squeeze, fingers playing with the nipple and loving the sound that falls out of Morgan’s mouth. Giving both of their breasts a bit of a play, he reaches up to pull Morgan down – pressing their lips together. He bites at their lip, and they moan at the feeling, and he moves his hand back down their body, hand running over their ass and loving the groan falling from their lips as he gives it a firm squeeze.

Morgan pulls away, and he knows he can’t pull them back down, he’s not in charge – they are so he just keeps his hand on their hip as they move back. Hovering just over his dick, lowering themself as they roll their hips over his dick – both moaning at the contact of it. Rocking themself over his cock Killer’s grip on their thigh tightens and he makes a sound that is very close to a whimper when they lift themself from off his dick.

One of their hands takes hold of his throbbing dick, giving it a few strokes before he can feel the tip of his cock starting to enter the wetness of their cunt. “Fuck,” He groans out as they fully take him in with a loud moan of their own, they don’t move for a few moments and he wants to push his own hips up, he doesn’t. Grabbing hold of his hand, Morgan moves it to their breasts, and he eagerly cups it within his hands, moaning as Morgan slowly starts to roll their hips. It’s a slow, teasing start and he’s enjoying the pleasure he’s getting from it.

Lifting their hips up, before slowly moving back down, Killer moans at the feeling – watching as they slowly pick up the pace of their movements. He gives their breasts another squeeze and they gasp, placing their hands on top of his chest as they roll their hips a few times before continuing to move up and down on his cock. Every now and then, they roll their hips, and he will squeeze their breasts – switching between the two as Morgan rides him.

Both of their moaning fills the room, the sound of skin against skin and their breathing that’s picked up pace. He feels that familiar feeling forming, and he moves his hand down towards their hip – gripping it tightly as he cums inside them with a loud moan. Morgan continues to move themself up and down his cock, their fingers digging into his chest leaving marks from their pointed nails as they cum not to long after.

Their movements sluggish as the come to a stop, a blissed-out smile upon their lips and they lean over to whisper in his ear, “Maybe next time – I'll let you take control.” They press a kiss to his cheek before climbing off him and undoing the silk ribbon that bound his left arm. “If you want to clean up, showers over there.” They point to a little door in the room, and he has a quick shower, taking note of the red marks that were on his chest from Morgan’s nails. His clothes and mask were set just outside the door, and Morgan was laying on the bed, their hair a little damp and they’re just clad in underwear. Must have had another shower somewhere, Killer notes “I’d be careful with your next adventure.”

“Why’s that?”

Morgan just smiled at him, giving a small shrug, “Gut feeling.”

#massacre solider killer #killer op #one piece killer #killer one piece #op killer #massacre solider #killer x oc #my writing #this is like my second ever full smut piece i've written so i hope it's good #i am trying to branch out my writing hence these little we pieces #do i WANt a second part where Killer is in charge yes but do i think i can write it? no

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murderousxcoffee · 3 years

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Coffee’s Slasher x Reader Fic Ideas

These are all either WIPs or just ideas, feel free to let me know which you’re interested in Hello, Detective - Poly!Ghostface x FTM!Reader [tw: noncon, manipulation, deception] Reader is a true crime fan in his first year of college. When a murder happens on campus, he quickly notices the similarities to the famous Woodsboro Massacre from a few years prior. As the authorities drag their feet and the body count climbs, Reader dives in to the mystery. He wants to protect the campus, and Billy and Stu, the survivors of the Massacre who are becoming a bigger part of his life than he could’ve dreamed of. Unfortunately, Billy and Stu aren’t the traumatized victims he thinks they are... A series of one-shots, some SFW, some not. Lots of murder and noncon in this one. I fully plan on writing this and will make a proper post for it soon.

Living Dead Boy - Billy Loomis x Reader Based on the song of the same name by Graveyardguy. After their parents’ funeral, Reader gets drunk and decides to summon the spirit of a cute dead guy called Billy. Something goes very wrong - instead of merely bringing his spirit back to the land of the living, Billy is given a whole working, intact body again. Billy recruits Reader to his plans for ultimate revenge, as Reader hopes to distract him with all the wonderful things of the modern era. Mostly SFW with potential for smut.

Untitled WIP - Poly!Ghostface x Killer!Reader A much less developed idea - Reader is a killer who has set their sights on hunting and killing Billy and Stu, unaware that they are also killers. Reader may be connected to Danny Johnson [DBD!Ghostface] somehow. Possibly another FTM!Reader fic + rivals to lovers No solid plans here, I just like the idea

Just Stay Dead Please - Poly!Ghostface x Immortal[?]!Reader Reader wakes up in the middle of the night after an awful nightmare. They dreamed they were chased down and murdered by a figure in a mask. But it was just a dream, right? Well, not to Billy and Stu, who go to school the next day and find Reader, who should be dead, walking around. At a complete loss, the two agree to do the only thing they can think of doing, killing Reader over and over until they finally stay dead. I don’t really have any ideas for this but I was thinking its a bit more comedic in tone. Smut possible? Taking suggestions

Will update this list as more ideas come or get written.

#coffee writes slasher fic #slasher fandom #reader x slasher #scream fanfiction #scream x reader #poly ghostface #poly ghostface x reader

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kbstories · 4 years

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Axiomatic

ax·i·om·at·ic (adj.) Self-evident; unquestionable.

The best part of battle is the afterparty.

(Or: Kidd wears a fur coat, Killer is thirsty. Zoro is there until he isn’t.)

Tags: Established Relationship, Drinking, Fluff and Smut, Blow Jobs, Anal Sex, It’s a PWP what can I say?

Read Chapter 1 here. Post-Wano setting. Content warning for mentions of Body Dysmorphia (relating to Killer).

***

Killer is drunk.

Technically he’s tipsy and on-his-way-to-drunk. There’s a bottle of sake in his hand, half-full or half-empty depending where his head is in a given moment. The straw between his lips is growing brittle, already frayed at the edge – he’s been toying with it rather than drinking for a while now, distracted by the feast running its course below.

With his ass firmly planted on the stone weight of one of the roofs – the inn’s, perhaps? Killer can’t recall why he got up here, much less which house it is – he’s got a view over all of Okobore Town, from where the outskirts are swallowed by the Wasteland to the pitiful square still lit by the bonfire’s embers. Whoever’s in charge of feeding the flames has obviously left their post or followed the siren song of free booze. They wouldn’t be the first to do so, the streets littered with those passed out or making out or both, somehow.

It reminds Killer a little of home. Well, the place they used to call home, him and Kidd, a town so small it isn’t really worth considering it one. Nothing more than the scrapyard of the bustling capital right next door with the people to match: Too poor to live, too stubborn to die and so they got carried along, forgotten by history.

Same bullshit, different island, Killer muses via the wisdom of too much sake in his blood. Different ocean altogether, and there’s no fondness in that.

Home isn’t a place for Killer but a feeling, the one he gets with full sails fluttering above and Kidd up front, hair wild in the wind.

Freedom’s a fickle thing, as quickly lost as it is gained with how complacent the masses tend to get. At sea it’s just them and their ship against the elements, life and death a matter of seeing the storm coming and having the guts to spit in its face.

Alone on that roof, Killer grins around the straw. That’s the shit worth living for, day after day after day.

Down there is Kidd, the red flash of his hair one Killer seeks out by sheer habit; his silhouette against the dying bonfire is imposing, that ridiculous coat hanging big and imperial off his shoulders. If he focuses, Killer could probably make out what he’s yelling about with… Strawhat’s navigator? Killer squints, infusing his sight with Haki where the dark and the holes in his mask fail him.

Yeah, that’s Nami. She says something, hands on expensive fur. She’s grinning, innocent and cunning all at once and that’s why they call her a cat, huh?

Killer considers cranking up the audio sensitivity on his helmet. Considers it, and tosses the thought right out the metaphorical window. Kidd’s a big boy, he can defend his precious coat from a thief. Nami, presumably, also knows what she’s getting into, poking the bear like that.

A long sip of sake later and Killer nods to himself. A good, rational choice.

His bottle is decidedly past half-empty when Roronoa Zoro finds him. Killer is not surprised, has felt him wandering around for a while now – there are two bottles of sake in his hands, his gait utterly steady despite the rosy tinge to his cheeks.

A heavy drinker, Killer’s heard that. He polishes off his drink to gesture to one of Zoro’s.

“You’ve got good timing, Pirate Hunter.”

“Who says it’s for you?”, Zoro asks with a snort, and gives him the second bottle anyways. When he sits, he does so with the kind of controlled grace many of Wano’s people wield, that flawless rigidity speaking of a life of discipline.

The way he drinks is the exact opposite of that. Interesting.

Killer concentrates on getting the straw through the narrow neck of the pitcher for a moment. The first sip proves it’s decent stuff; Killer’s mouth shapes itself around a pleased hum.

“You ever think about why the Marines call us what they do?”

It certainly makes Killer pause. Zoro doesn’t seem like the kind of guy to dabble in meaningless small talk – then again, what does Killer know? He turns his head to be able to see the look on Zoro’s face, watches the man nurse his sake with a pensive expression.

“‘Pirate Hunter’… Been a pirate longer than I was hunting ‘em. They could get the hint, y’know.”

They’re doing this, then. Pretending they weren’t at each other’s throats a mere week or two ago, like Zoro didn’t witness the side of Killer he loathes enough to hide it, always.

Fine. Killer can roll with that. “Which would you prefer? ‘Demon of the East Blue’?”

Zoro laughs and it’s so easy for him. “Now that’s one I haven’t heard in a while. You’ve been snooping, huh?”

“Sure as fuck not going into an alliance blind”, says Killer and it’s a bit pointed, a bit of a warning. They came back from war mere days ago but there’s room for blood when it comes to protecting their own.

“Mh. Wonder what that’s like.”

… Right. The guy’s the right hand of Strawhat Luffy, after all.

They drink, and Killer watches his captain. “The Marines don’t know shit, anyways.” A low hum to his side, prompting. Agreeing, perhaps. “Incompetent bastards thought I was the one to look out for when we made ourselves known, back in South Blue.”

“So ‘Massacre Soldier’ was, what, a misunderstanding?”

That makes Killer chuckle, a low ff ff ff sound. “Nah. Just that Kidd’s worse.”

“Ah.”

And it seems whatever else Zoro wants to add to that will have to wait. Even from afar Killer can feel it when Kidd’s eyes land on him and he sighs. “Speak of the devil. You might wanna get out of here.”

The sake stops on its way to Zoro’s mouth. “Huh?”

“Just giving you a fair warning, ’s all. Kidd kinda hates your guts over the whole”, a vague gesture to his own chest, “thing. He likes to keep grudges.”

“… Huh?”

Killer shrugs. It’s too late anyways. “Here he comes.”

“Hey! You!”

It doesn’t matter if he’s tipsy or drunk or whatever: Wrangling Kidd is something Killer grew up doing, and he stares him down now as Kidd pulls himself towards them by the metal in Killer’s mask. Hands up, no hesitation – Killer catches Kidd by the scruff of his coat, an arm winding around Kidd’s waist with enough strength to crush a smaller man and barely enough to drag this particular fool away.

To his credit, Zoro stays exactly where he is, his face blooming into something strangely close to delight. “Hah! You weren’t kidding.”

“Never am”, Killer tells him. He’s wheezing a little with how hard Kidd is struggling against his grip. “Captain! Fucking hell, you promised.”

“Didn’t promise shit”, Kidd hisses, a distinct slur to his words that Killer recognizes without trouble. Wasted indeed. “Roronoa! Hands off my partner!”

Zoro laughs – not the best of moves, Killer thinks with a wince – until his swords start vibrating. The smile drops real fast, then, becoming more of a tense smirk as he grabs on to that white katana of his.

“Oi, Spikey. Play nice now.”

All Kidd does is redouble his efforts, a whirlwind of bulging muscle in Killer’s arms and oh, Killer has had it. He presses his face against Kidd’s neck, his mouth only an inch or two away from his ear where they’re separated by Killer’s mask.

“Eustass fucking Kidd”, he growls. “Stop it or I will end you.”

Wasted or not, a shudder goes through his partner at that. It always does when Killer says his name like that. Killer knows, whatever happens now:

They both have a long night ahead of them.

Frantic hands, gasps of breath, lipstick smeared beyond hope between one kiss and the next. A moan, quiet against the sounds of belts being undone.

Killer pushes Kidd, gaze on him and only him as he bounces a little on the bed – their bed – and stares up at Killer. Eyes red as dusk, shining with the feral grin on his lips.

Killer gets on his knees for Kidd, always for him, and even if his blood wasn’t a-buzz with residue anger and alcohol, the way Kidd says “Fuck, Killer, yes” would get him there for sure. Trembling with it, Killer’s fingers hook into the waistband of Kidd’s pants to pull him closer, just where he wants him.

Kidd’s boots land on solid ground with a wooden thud. Legs splayed and Killer in the middle.

“You always have to make a mess”, Killer tells him, holds him down with one hand and the other working on his fly, “always so reckless”, and fuck, Kidd’s hard already. Hot and velvet-smooth in Killer’s palm and Killer forgets about chewing him out, for a moment.

It’s been weeks. Weeks since they’ve had time for this, hell, since Killer could even think about needing Kidd beyond the comfort his mere presence brings. With that infernal smile on his lips and his lungs clenching around the need to laugh, nothing would’ve come of it anyways.

Killer leans over and breathes Kidd in, gives him a gentle kiss, over the delicate vein that throbs under his lips. “We’re not done”, he lets him know, voice having lost most of its edge; Kidd laughs, runs a hand through the messy bangs falling into Killer’s eyes.

“I sure hope not. C’mon, don’t–”

Whatever Killer isn’t supposed to do gets lost in a moan. Kidd is big in Killer’s mouth, big and so familiar and Killer feels Kidd’s fingers tighten where they make a desperate grab for his hair. It makes him groan around the cock sliding over his tongue, again as he swallows around him and Kidd’s thighs jolt under the weight pinning them down.

Kidd is loud, it’s who he is, but there’s something about the cut-off calls of Killer’s name that gets to him. That makes him throw any sense of taking things slow to the wind and suck cock like he means it, lids fluttering shut and painted lips wide as he takes his captain as far down as he can get him without choking.

It’s been a while and it feels so good.

“Just like that, K. Keep goin’ just like that, don’t stop, fuck–”

And Killer feels his muscles shift under his hand, fingers splayed across Kidd’s abs straining with the need to move. Later, he might let him – can feel his own cock ache in too-tight jeans with the thought of Kidd holding him down and using him until he’s sated.

For now, he wants to get Kidd off, to hear his voice crack as it only does when he’s trembling on that edge.

It doesn’t take long at all, Killer’s lips and tongue and mouth dragging him there with no mercy for how breathless Kidd gets. “Kil”, Kidd gasps a warning; Killer hums, pulls off to catch the tip between his lips and jack him off the rest of the way, his hand easily gliding over spit-slick skin–

Kidd comes just like that, spilling into Killer’s mouth in twitching spurts. Given the garbage Kidd calls a diet he doesn’t taste the best but it’s Kidd, it’s the man Killer has hardwired his brain to adore no matter what. Killer moans softly, reaches down to rub himself as Kidd’s fingers release their death grip and sort of… pet him instead.

“Fuck me, darling, next time I’m horny I’ll just piss you off on purpose.”

Wiping his mouth, Killer huffs, “You already do that”, follows the trail of red leading up to Kidd’s navel with his lips. “You’re insufferable.” Licks along the valleys of his ripped stomach to kiss away the sweat gathering in the scar bisecting his pecs. “And we’re not done.”

Kidd rumbles a groan, pulls Killer into an open-mouthed kiss. The cold touch of metal worms its way under Killer’s shirt, in stark contrast to the need in Killer’s veins. It makes him shiver. “Kidd”, whispers Killer into that filthy kiss and it sounds like please, like more.

“Mh, I got you. Take this off, baby, let me see you.”

A demanding tug to Killer’s jeans. Killer doesn’t think twice about it: It’s a relief to get rid of them, the fabric starting to cling to his legs with how hot he’s running, and Killer throws off his boots and shirt to places unknown while he’s at it. Rolls his shoulders where they’re still a bit stiff from carrying his scythes all day.

Kidd is watching him, a hand on his own cock even if it won’t get hard quite yet. Leaning back in a sea of fur with the effortless grace of a king and the look of arrogant expectation to match. Killer meets it as he ties his hair into a loose knot to get it somewhat out of the way, nodding at him.

“You too. Or do you want me to tear ‘em off of you?”

How dark Kidd’s eyes can get. Those are his favorite pants though – Killer decides to be nice about it, unties Kidd’s boots enough for him to kick them off and save the rest of his clothes from an untimely demise.

Well, most of them. When Kidd makes to shrug off the coat Killer stops him. “Keep it.” His hands are on those suede-clad shoulders he’s been salivating over for hours now. “Keep the fur, Kidd”, an order he has no right to give, fingers clawed as they burrow between that softness and a heat that’s all Kidd.

It gets a look of genuine surprise out of Kidd. That, along with a pleased smile, closed-lipped. “Like it that much, do ya?”

Killer hums, “It’s soft”, kisses him, hides his own smile against demanding lips and the warning bite of teeth. “Makes me want to fuck you on it. Got a problem with that?”

“Shit, you kidding? Let’s ruin it.”

As much as he’s an impudent little shit anywhere else, here, coming alive under Killer, Kidd is all eager compliance and greedy hands across Killer’s back; it shouldn’t be as addicting as it is, the notion that this – the needy panting in his ear, the flush high in Kidd’s cheeks and spilling down to his chest – is all Killer’s. Only his, nobody else’s.

Killer slows down, then. Once Kidd has scrambled for the slick they keep around and Killer’s got his hands warmed up, he takes his time. Pushes one of Kidd’s legs to the side, keeps him there while he stretches Kidd finger by finger and fuck, he’s tight, clenching impatiently where Killer pushes in knuckle-deep.

“You’re killing me”, Kidd says, whines really, easily worked up by the twist of Killer’s fingers in him. Kidd’s prosthetic clings to Killer’s shoulder, his other hand in his own hair and tugging. “I’m ready, just – get in there!”

Killer is willing to rush a lot. Not this, though, never this.

“Shut up and relax”, he grumbles but he kisses Kidd, too, along the jagged edges of the scar down his face and his neck to suck on his clavicle. Kidd moans shamelessly, hips bucking into Killer’s curling fingers as he adds another.

Seeking that burning stretch before Killer can stop him. Killer curses, pulls out.

“Don’t complain later. You wanted this.”

Kidd tosses his head back into the covers and laughs. “Yesss. Fuck me, c’mon.”

Smug asshole. More slick, dripping from Killer’s cock to the fur below. The glide of his hand as he spreads it is already a lot, the sight of Kidd’s muscular neck bared and vulnerable hitting Killer somewhere instinctive, primal.

Deep down, Killer doesn’t want to wait either. He props himself up on one elbow, a mere inch or two separating their faces – and he stares at Kidd when he guides himself inside. At the way his mouth goes a little slack with it, the flare of his nose at the threadbare breath that follows.

“Good”, Killer tells him, catches Kidd’s gaze that’s barely past half-lidded. Licks over his bottom lip and kisses him, chaste as to not distract him from that first, long thrust.

“Doing so well, Kidd, almost there.”

Kidd feels sinful around him, warm and fluttering with tension that melts under the gentle thrusts Killer opens him up with. Leaning up to nip at Killer’s beard, his chin, and Killer indulges him, pushes his tongue into his mouth, slowly, languidly. Swallowing the soft noises Kidd makes as Killer hoists him up higher in his lap, Killer’s knees sliding apart in sleek fur.

He fucks him just like that, arms steady around Kidd and locking him in place when Killer finds a pace he can keep up for a while. Kidd fights it at first, he always does, not the kind of man to lie there and take it – Killer nuzzles his jaw, “It’s okay, let go, let go”, words that he knows Kidd needs to hear, cocky as he may act. Kidd’s breath shudders out of him and he does, finally relenting against the angle that makes him come undone each and every time.

Letting Killer sink in to the hilt and he groans, bites at Kidd’s throat and the pulse thundering there. “Good, so good for me.”

He rocks them both, hard enough to make Kidd shift against the fur. Kidd’s legs tighten where they’re tangled with Killer’s and he whimpers, far enough out of his head not to care what he sounds like anymore. A sound that burns in Killer’s gut, his chest, mouth open and panting over Kidd’s skin as he does it again and again and again.

It’s Kidd’s fingers going for the bundle of Killer’s hair and holding on; the feeling of Kidd’s prosthetic drawing red, stinging lines down the length of Killer’s back. “Kidd”, Killer mutters, demands, “Kidd–”

Kidd pulls at blonde strands coming loose, hard. “Whatever you want, K. Whatever you want, please–”

Voice gone, hoarse with the things Killer is doing to him.

Something in Killer snaps. The coat is torn open: Killer hears some of the seams pop in some places and he doesn’t care, mind and soul focused on turning Kidd around and getting him on his hands and knees.

“Fuck”, Kidd half-gasps, half-moans, “fuck–”

Then Killer is inside him again, sweating skin slapping against sweating skin, and his lips trace the shivers racing up Kidd’s spine, the faint freckles dotting Kidd’s shoulders. Kidd, Kidd, Kidd, his senses sharp as knives and hands roaming over what’s his, all his.

Whatever sounds Kidd is making, they are beyond words as he drops to his elbows and bends his back, pushing back into every hard shove of Killer’s hips. Killer moans, loud and breathless – feels Kidd clench around him and he gets a hand on Kidd’s cock, hard and leaking all over the coat, that fucking coat.

For the second time Kidd’s voice trembles, breaks apart on a high ah! as Killer squeezes him tight, so tight. Kidd comes around a choked noise and Killer keeps fucking him, his own peak tantalizingly in reach, not quite–

Kidd goes utterly boneless but there’s determination in the sliver of his eyes, the rasp of “keep goin’, want to feel ya”, and Killer grabs onto his hair just to tilt his head to the side and kiss him.

Over and over Killer takes him, covering Kidd with his bulk and it melts his brain, how Kidd just lets him. How Killer doesn’t have to hold back with him, going as deep as he possibly can and barely coming up for air until he loses himself in it, in Kidd.

Shaking apart above him, head bowed against the nape of Kidd’s neck. Killer rolls the last few thrusts just to feel how slick Kidd is, how well he takes him like this.

After that: A head full of static, numb limbs, cooling sweat.

“Hey, Kil.”

It’s Kidd’s voice that guides him back, “You there?”, the gentle motions of Kidd’s hand brushing the tie out of Killer’s hair and letting it fall around them. Killer pushes into that touch, humming. So comfortable.

“Babe, I kinda need to breathe here.”

Killer laughs and it’s fine like that, low and muffled against Kidd’s neck. “That so?”, he mumbles but he gets the hint, pushing himself to the side with a tired groan.

“Mmh. My head’s all fuzzy.”

“Yeah?” A hand slaps down on Killer’s chest, rough knuckles rubbing over the half-healed wound there. “From drinking or from fucking me to oblivion?”

Ff ff ff, Killer makes. He feels so light.

“Both, probably.”

Yeah, Killer is allowed a little smugness, too: Kidd’s hair is all mussed, lips red from kissing, neck covered in fresh, rose-colored bruises. Well used and looking like he doesn’t plan on moving even if the Punk’s cannons started firing around them.

Definitely worth slaying the coat over, Killer decides.

Still, when Killer takes Kidd’s hand in his, it’s all tenderness. Killer’s thumb brushes over Kidd’s knuckles, the same spot he presses a soft kiss to. Kidd lets him, squeezing back.

Their fingers entangle without really having to think about it, years of partnership in a single touch; and with the Punk's gentle sway all around them, they allow themselves to drift.

#one piece #eustass kid #killer one piece #kidkiller #one piece fanfiction #fanfiction #this is ns//fw (i just can't tag it properly 'cause tumblr)#this fic is also on AO3!!#my stuff #one piece spoilers

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eye-raq · 6 years

Text

Blood Sport.

killmonger x Black OC

Warnings: HORROR. SMUT. ANGST. 18+ (blood, gore,possession,witchcraft a little)

Summary: A New Orleans native turned big city with Salem blood she is unaware of meets an unlikely creature of the night; not a vampire but something else more.

So there is mention of tarot card readings as well, I tried with it so if it’s wrong just go with it for the sake of the story lol, but anyways I hope you all enjoy this ride. It may be a mini-series.

“YOU WANT ME TO FUCK YOU HARD? Make you cum so fucking hard you can’t utter a single syllable? Is that what the FUCK you want?”

“Give me it alllllll. I NEED it alllllll. You’re in control of me killer.”

She yearned.

“SAY THAT AGAIN. I like it when you talk with little air to breathe..”

He was the puppet master.

“Give. Me. Your. Best.” She leaned forward, mouth like a gaping hole, and teeth flared like she was ready to feast. The persistent need for this man was forbidden but oh so exquisite. Her entire mouth latched onto his shoulder, molars, and canines bending flesh until it split like a seam, drawing blood that was as sweet as cherry juice.

“My actions can’t be tamed, it’s you that I want. Always. No one and nothing else...you’ve consumed me to the point of no return.”

“Mind, body, and fucking soul.” He finished, taking her goddess of a body, wrapping his thick hand around her slender neck, the other gripping her thick thigh that rested around his waist and slamming her into the soiled sheets of the victim's small temporary apartment.

Soiled.

The blood of their victim was stuck between dry and wet, clinging to her naked back like glue. She gripped at the sheets in need, her entire body arching towards the ceiling in a perfect semi-circle, twirling her body like a crazed woman in heat. She was delicate but wild. Her killer of a man ripped his blood-drenched shirt down the middle, unhealed scars grazing his very skin. The deep tan set a soft warm pattern under the flickering lights of that small shabby place, setting the mood perfectly.

“Have at me, darling.” She spoke in barely a whisper. This scorching hot man released himself from the constrictions of his black leather pants, his third leg bobbing free. It was thick and it was powerful; tough to take but generous.

His pupils expanded creating an almost dark pit right in the center. He was consumed, and it happened every night; although tonight he was at his most powerful. It was a full moon night, lycans, werepanthers, and werejaguars together to form a bloody massacre. This werejaguar was nothing to mess with. When he got hungry, he got hungry. The sex drive was on infinity and his primal nature strong enough to kill was enough to wipe out city blocks. He took her under his wing, tamed her and marked her as his.

“She’s mine.” He would say. Any man to try, any man to come within a few feet of her, would be clawed with his long blackened nails. He took pride in slicing clean and smooth across the neck, or gripping the top of the head, sinking his deep claws within the cranium; twisting and then pulling.

The way the tendons would pop, bone cracking like a harsh whip and skin pulling away like a blooming flower. The blood splatter, the warmth of it, the loss of life within their eyes; it was breathtaking.

“Fresh prey; the sweetest victory.” He would practically sing, eyes black and teeth sharp and pointy. His eyes would shift from yellow to black. Yellow when he wanted to draw you in, and black when he was ready to take you. The wound that made him into this creature of the underworld was nothing but deep claw scratches that lay diagonal along his back; cursed and unhealed. It was a mark to remember.

Aria. That was her name; his Aria. She wasn’t fully werejaguar, but she was marked, almost completely his to keep forever. He needed two more bites to seal the deal, and he was determined to get it.

To be marked, you have to be bitten by a full werejaguar. She was bitten but not turned, leaving every dream, every touch, as his. When he first tasted her flesh, it gave him access to her life. She dies by him and him only, she lives because of him.

It was fate. It was satisfaction.

“My sweet, sexy, Aria. You see what I had to do? You see what I’ve become because of you? You made me like this… I’m a jealous man now miss Aria.”

A man lay headless in the corner, blood splatter thick on the wall behind his lifeless body. The room began to smell like fresh dead meat but they didn’t care; bodies ready to fuck like wild animals.

The dead man tried to tempt Aria, following her while she was on her way home, standing outside his apartment building smoking a cigarette. Her killer was always there, watching her closely. That carcass gripped her arm with force, trying to whisper sweet nothings until her killer jumped from a worn gargoyle atop a small museum in downtown Manhattan, yanking the man by the head and pulling him into his shabby apartment.

The kill was gruesome and gory, commanding for her to watch. His booted foot crashed with the man’s chest before swiping clean across his neck, the thick blood trickling down his leg. He wasn’t quite done, gripping the man’s head and with a deep grunt, pulling it from his body. Aria slid down the far wall, her eyes set yellow, and a sinister smile creeping up. He was so primal it made her core ache.

Her lover raked his long blackened nail along her inner thigh, circling the bite mark he gave her. She whimpered, arms flailing to grab him. He smiled in gratification, pleased with his work. Her heart beat heavy and a thick sheen of sweat showered her.

Those pretty brown eyes turned yellow, she was FULLY under his control, long ginger hair cascading down her back. He could drink her blood and eat her alive that’s how good she smelled and tasted. That’s the one thing that drew her to him, she smelled like no other, his senses at an all-time high, and her smooth brown skin.

She was into astrology, tarot cards, and palm readings.

________________________________________________________________

Aria’s family were from New Orleans but she took her talents to the Big Apple. She had a small loft apartment with a shop at the bottom where she gave people readings. One particular night, Aria said her last goodbyes to some friends after enjoying Pho, packing her items away to settle into slumber. Before she could, the bell to her shop donged, alerting her of another guest.

“I’m sorry! We’re closed! Come back around 11am tomorrow!” She continues to busy herself with cleaning, blowing out her soy candles with a cinnamon scent. It was an almost unbearable silence that followed, nothing heard except for her breathing. The silence was deathlike, and it made her belly feel sickened.

“Hello?” She called out timidly. Aria closed her eyes, hand clutching her chest; eyes closed.

The darkness will never consume me. The darkness will never consume me. She spoke, slowly turning to burn sage. Not tonight. She would not have it. Lately, she felt a dark presence and the dreams that followed had her waking up with night sweats. The floorboard creaked as she walked slowly and hazardously towards the front of her shop, her nerves sparked. Finally reaching the front, she came face to face with nothing. Of course, naturally, this was as if she resided in a typical horror film.

“Of course, no one. What a moment.” She barked out sarcastically, turning on her heel only to crash with the solid chest and abdomen of a man. The petrifying look on her face spoke for itself. The man dawned in all black from head to toe...

Black Henley unbuttoned, sleeves rolled up.

Silver cross medallion hanging on a thin silver chain laying in the middle of his chest.

A single silver cross earring in his left ear reminding you of the 80s.

Black slouchy cargo pants.

Black doc martens on his feet.

And hair crisply dreaded; short, with a sharp temp-fade.

She shudders a spine-chilling shudder. The striking but terrifying look in his eyes set her rigid. He was tall and broadly built. His arms were folded over his chest with domination, and that alone made her take a seat.

“I’m s-sorry. w-were closed.” She stiffened and stuttered.

“Who’s we?” his voice was set and deep.

“I. I meant me.” She stumbled. Who was this man?

“All Alone here. Do you like being alone?” He took a slow stride toward her, pulling out the wooden chair that resided at her frequent table. He slumped into the chair, right arm arched over the back of it, legs wide and swinging. His deep brown eyes scanned her frame slowly and on purpose. Aria felt like her body was undergoing orthostatic breathing.

He was tempting. What did he want? She was getting a bad vibe from him, her throat began to itch; she grabbed at it. He tilted his head, an eyebrow arched; calculating.

“Can I help you?” She cleared her throat.

“I want a reading done. If you don’t mind.”

“But we’re closed-“

“So? I want a reading...DONE.” A ghostly sigh whistled in her ears, eyes fluttering and limbs tiring like she had lifted weights all day. He had a jarring look in his eyes. Fingers tapped against wood and it gave her a heart-stopping feeling.

“Palm reading?T-Tarot cards?” She quickly reached over for her card deck, her shaky fingers struggling to shuffle them.

“Tarot cards are fine, I’m intrigued.”

He hooked his chain, circling it along the pad of his thumb, his tongue peeking out of its cavern quick before hiding again.

“Oh.” She stole her eyes away, resting them on her hands as they shuffled. He was so fearful. Aria quickly laid out the cards specifically for him.

The Chariot. Upside.

It seems like you have strength and willpower. Critical in ensuring that you overcome the obstacles that lie in your path. Maintain control of your surroundings.

She chanced a look at him, noticing a shift in his mood. He seemed turned on, enjoying this not like like an excited customer for the first time but a sexual deviant. Nonetheless, she continued.

The Emperor. Upside.

You...it’s all about control. Authority, regulation, you make the rules, you see them out...the desire to foster, honor, and discipline. You act rationally and accordingly though, to rule you have to serve.

His mouth set into a deep smirk.

“You’re-“

“You're what princess? Am I startling you?”

“N-no.” She lies through her teeth.

“The lies you tell. I can see right through you. Your heart is practically ready to burst like a fucking blister.”

She had one more, placing her middle and pointer finger against it.

The Moon. Upside.

You are animalistic in nature. On the path of the moon stands a wolf or a dog… maybe even another creature of the night. There is a danger, but it brings you clarity. In the dark of the night; full moon mostly, you take on a path that you are first unsure of, but when you’re sure, you allow your imagination and intuition to guide you.

He was interesting and frightening all in one.

“That’s all I have for you...you have depth though, I’m sure there is more but that’s the cards I felt the most energy from.”

He leaned in further, breathing through his nose. The air tickled her arms, raising the little hairs there. He finally reached her personal space, breathing in, her scent causing his eyes to roll and turn pitch black almost.

“You smell like temptation. I’ve had my eye on you, and now I have you.”

“Wha?” Aria felt like she was on a cloud.

She lifted frantically from her seat, walking past him with a loud click of her Steve Madden slinky shoes. She went to open her shop door, turning to him suddenly with struggling courage.

“Okay, it’s time for you to leave. Your sessions over for today.” Her chest rose and fell heavily.

“So soon? But I just got here girl. You don’t wanna have a little fun? That pussy does though I can tell you that.”

“Leave. NOW. I swear to God if you don’t leave I’ll call the police..”

She took in a sharp breath, her scene shifting like she was within a time machine, then out of nowhere, the haunting man was looming over her shoulder, taking his heavy hand to slam her door shut, glass cracking from an almost shatter. Her eyes welled with tears, and her body flew with impossible speed back to that same seat at that frequent table.

“That pussy. I can smell it. It smells sweet; like you were dipped in honey. The little kitty wants to play, I’m turning you on and all you want to do is lie. At least I know what I want.” His heavy booted feet echoed in her ear. The sound waves of his voice were reflected back over and over from low to high. It was a song she wanted to hear on replay.

“Drift baby girl, slip for me..” his voice became distant, she tilted back, the small black cami stretching across her 38 C chest, nipples hardened. Little bumps raised on her chest and it caught his attention. Her wine-colored coffin shaped nails clawed at the chair beneath her with an ache.

Teeth like an animal appeared and saliva dripped onto her surface. She was mouthwatering. He had her finally, and no one else will.

“Who are you?” She asked in persistent need.

“I’m the man you’ve been waiting for. I’ve waited for this moment, killing, tormenting, obsessing, just to get here.”

“I asked your name. Who are youuu??”

He spoke his name against her skin, her pulse thumping loudly in his ears. She felt touch starved, desperate, and heated.

“I’m Erik.”

“How do you know me? What do you want with me?”

“Everything. And trust me it’s possible.” He stood, dragging her limp body with him. Her arms swung loose to the sides, eyes low and trained on him. The small purple suede couch in the back of her shop rubbed against her back, her bodycon hunter green skirt lifting slightly to reveal her gold lace panties. In her mind, she wanted to gain control, but her body was telling her otherwise.

“Look at you, I haven’t even tasted you yet and already your burning with need. That’s my girl.” He pulled on her legs roughly, causing her to gasp loudly. She was in shock and stuck.

“So fucking beautiful, so fucking precious.” His crazed eyes could see right through her. He pulled her legs apart drastically, earning a cry from her pretty mouth.

“THIS IS FREEDOM.” He spoke, nestling his face in the area between her pussy and thigh. He nuzzled with his nose, growling like a wildcat before sinking his teeth in deep and sharp. She screamed, so loud that the entire block could hear. She gripped at his head, yanking as he feasted with the most painful suction. His nose scrunched like jaguars and black claws ripping at her skirt.

“Mmmmm” he hummed, his eyes on her, those now yellow eyes. Her skin grew hot like a fever, and her eyes were wide and appeared yellow as well. Her grip grew weak, and her pussy practically throbbed. Erik finally lifted, tilting his head to the moon letting out a cat cry; it was loud and striking. Her veins boiled and then stopped. She tried to catch her breath with difficulty, feeling his wet tongue lick away her blood.

“YOUR MINES. All mines.”

“Yours?” She felt like she was in a dream.

“You belong to me now Aria. Every move you make, every dream you have, every time you stroke that pussy, and tweak those nipples. Every moan and groan and whimper. I own that shit, and I will until I say otherwise.”

She let out a longing sigh, her arms reaching out to grip him. He let her, his face looming over hers. His now black eyes met yellow, and then full lips met heart shaped ones, the pouty lower lip tucking his full pillowy one into her mouth. She moaned around his mouth, her body arching into his. It was like magic; forbidden magic.

“I’m yours, I’m all yours Erik.” And she meant it. As crazy as it sounded, she did.

“Remember that shit, and scream it while I fuck you.”

Aria lifted from her bed suddenly, sweat chilling her as she kicked the covers away from her body. She breathed out hoarsely, clutching her chest for dear life.

“What the FUCK?” She spoke, her long pressed ginger hair sweaty and matted to her head. She closed her eyes, replaying every scene like a picture book. Absentmindedly her fingers grazed her inner thigh, touching a tender bruised area that made her cock her hand back in terror. She clutched her hand, watching as the moonlight caught the wound.

She shook, eyes fluttering and lower lip trembling.

Erik. Erik did this.

“You rang?”

Aria jumped, head quickly turning to her window seat, watching as the body of the man in her dreams lifted, completely naked and glowing. She roamed him, her heart melting and her eyes unexcused. He was delicious, remarkable, textured, and erotic.

“Words princess. You’ll learn to speak when spoken to. I’ll fix you.” He toyed with a dagger, purposely piercing his skin.

“What are you? The devil?” She meant that.

“No, but I am a creature of the night. I’m a Werejaguar.” He chuckled, and it sounded like a song. He was breathtaking.

“Am I still dreaming?”

“Does it feel like it?”

“Yeah, It does.”

Erik approaches her, causing her to draw her sheets close to her chest, her eyes trying its best to look at his face and not his dick.

“Look at me.” She stared into his eyes.

“Not up here girl, down here.” Erik palmed his dick, causing her to gulp. Erik bit down on his lower lip.

“This is how hard you make me Aria. Take pride in that.”

He pushed her body down with speed, causing her to gasp. He was over her now, arms straddling the sides of her head. He studied her when she turned her head, he did, when she looked down he did. Erik wanted to learn her more. She was perfect.

“No man will EVER lay a finger on you again. If they do, I’ll cut them up from limb to limb. I’ll claw their fucking heart out and gauge their eyes. I will make blood shed for you, and I MEAN that shit.”

Aria gulped, “Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes...Erik?”

He gripped her neck so quick and tight it caught her by surprise.

“Call me Killer. I’m your daddy and your Killer. I’ll kill for you, that’s how bad I want it. It’s almost tempting to kill you too.”

She couldn’t believe her ears. What was she getting herself into? This man was beyond dangerous and clearly out of this world in some shape or form. She mustered the courage as she felt him spread her legs so far back her pelvis almost split.

She was tainted now, and there was no going back.

That was two months ago.

________________________________________________________________

Erik; her Killer, took his thick tongue, dragging it along her blood-drenched skin. She could feel the goosebumps rise, the encounter itself putting her in a deep euphoria. He sucked in her big nipples, slowly pulling back with a loud pop. He moved back and forth over her chest with need, making the chocolate buds even harder. She could climax from that feeling alone, her thighs desperate to close. She was open and vulnerable, her body in his control. What could she do? She had to take it.

Aria’s willpower would win occasionally, the inner Salem of her that she was so unaware of pulling her back to reality; to the girl she once was.

Erik flipped her over with force, her right cheek crashing with the blood that drenched the black silk of her bed. Her vision was blurred and trained on the lifeless corpse sitting in the corner, the 3 hr stench filling her nostrils. It was a bad smell but not unbearable; not at it’s worse...not yet. Erik cupped both thighs, pulling her up into an arch. She gasped her unguarded pussy spread and wet for him. He kissed up her spine; tender, soft, and desperate.

“The moon is full tonight.” She whispered.

“Full moon nights are cursed nights love.”

Erik kissed each globe of flesh with more attention, sucking on the skin even. It tickled her in the best way and it had her eyes rolling.

“You want me to devour it, don’t you? I can see it clenching. This phat pussy is throbbing with need.”

Erik’s fingers slid between her plump lips, the slick wetness coating his finger. He leaned forward, his clawed hands digging into her flesh. That damn tongue; it wiggled with force and he didn’t miss a spot; ever. She could feel herself dripping to the bed, her hips moving to cause her clit to glide along his tongue. It felt silky and fiery to her, making her abdominal muscles tighten. He spread her further, his tongue dragging along the sides, front, back, and in her hole. She just lay limp, her eyes off focus and mouth parted.

“Oh, oh..” she couldn’t speak.

He sucked then, pulling back each time like he was savoring a popsicle. Her body would shutter after each suck, causing a single tear to escape her eyes. Erik ate her like no other, he got a little bit more each time she gave. He frantically flicked the underside of her clit causing her to inhale sharply, and then came the sweetest of treats.

“You taste so fucking good, give me that fucking nut.” She dipped her waist, her pussy sitting on his tongue as her cream coated it. Erik gave her ass a loud, sharp smack, putting her back into that back-breaking arch before entering her without notice.

She worshipped his dick.

She savored his dick

She spread wide and let him ravish.

It was amazing and so bad. Her ass clapped back on him with force and she didn’t want it to end.

“Make it last longer Daddy.” She cried, biting her lip hard, drawing blood.

“Make it last forever?” He teased, one hand resting on her lower back pulling her deeper over his dick. His eyes were all black now, deep veins forming over his skin practically throbbing. The full moon was calling him, and now he struggled between wanting to kill her and wanting to fuck her harder.

She squirmed from his dick hitting her cervix, hand throwing back to push against him. He was becoming madder with every stroke; she was familiar. She screamed, her entire face covered in the foul blood now. Erik; her killer, was transforming. She couldn’t move for what felt like a week last time. Fear gripped her and her inner self began to chant. She needed a release.

“DON'T THINK YOU'RE GONNA GO RUNNING ON ME AGAIN PRINCESS.” He demanded, his voice ghoulish and not his normal boyish husk. He lifted her, then flipped her, her legs around his waist and her arms gripping his neck for dear life. She came face to face with his transformed one, the contours not that of a man, but a Jaguar. He was menacing and yet her eyes couldn’t look away. Her head fell back heavy, his dick deep in her.

“Fuck me.” She whispered, her hands grazing his chest.

“mmm, this damn pussy..” He moaned deeply, his eyes trained on her wet tight grip on his dick.

“I’m killing your shit right? wrecking your shit.”

“omg yess. keep going Daddy don’t stop.”

“Tell me what you want me to do to you.” Erik paused, staring down at her limp body.

“I want you to make me cum.” She cried like a child.

“It’s okay, Daddy got you. Cum all over this dick like you wanna.”

“Ah!” She cried, Erik’s clawed hand sinking into her neck. It was painful and sharp. His dick slipped out, her puffy eyes watching as he gripped the thick rod, pushing it in with so much force her body jolted. He was too big, she felt like her body would split.

“Erik! It hurts... I can’t” he leaned forward to bite her there again, the venom from his razor-sharp teeth claiming her again. He wanted to take a chunk out of her neck and chew on the flesh so damn bad.

“Shhh, just take this dick like I trained you to. Spread wide for me it’s not enough.” His voice was demonic.

Don’t let the darkness consume you..don’t let the darkness consume you...break free..” she opened her eyes and saw a light, the yellow slowly fading from her eyes. She began to radiate heat, causing Erik to growl and then…

________________________________________________________________

“Aria? ARIA!!!”

She woke. It was her safe haven. The familiar silk of her round bed and the heart shaped halo light that hung over her headboard was safety. She could hear the familiar New York nightlife below her as she let out a sigh. Her skin was clammy and cold, the sweat soaking the loose tankini that she wore, breasts hardened and pressed against the fabric.

“You are scaring the living SHIT out of me.” Her friend and roommate AJ had a firm grip on her arm, eyes concerned.

“What?” Aria grabbed at her forehead, trying to ease the pain.

“I’m burning sage, that’s it.” Her plump short friend shot up from the bed, her curly pixie cut freshly wet and little black biker shorts hugging her wide ass. She picked up some sage from Aria’s mantle, burning it without question. The smoke was a comfort, and it brought Aria back to the present fully.

Was that another dream or did that really happen?

“Who the fuck is Erik Aria? And don’t lie either. You smell like musk and cedar.” Aria lifted her tank to her nose taking in that very smell. She fell into satisfaction from the alluring smell.

“Just...he’s a man in my dreams.”

“You sure? Cuz you're covered in love bites and scratches. What kind of magic are you toying with?! Did you steal some dark spells out of that book in Madam Dalia’s shop?!”

“No-I...no AJ I didn't, I swear. Plus, why would it even work? I don’t even know if I’m of Salem blood.” Aria lifted to the bathroom, flicking on the light to examine herself.

She looked sleep deprived. Her skin didn’t have a glow like usual and her neck had a bite mark that began to bruise. She took her shaking hand to rest it on her neck, tears forming in the corners of her eyes. She turned on the taps, cupping water to rinse her face. She lifted suddenly, a chill creeping up as her eyes set on that man.

She froze, his body stepping forward and leaning over her shoulder. He had on an all-black biker jacket, chest bare and neck littered in silver chains. He tilted his head to hers, rubbing his nose in her hair with so much force it began to tangle.

“What did I tell you huh? Back in that dank apartment...I could have sworn I told you to stay right?” He warned.

“You smell like death.” She closed her eyes.

“Would you like to know how they tasted?” he was invading her security again.

“You don’t have control over me.” She wanted to be angry, but the way he cupped her naked pussy flooded her veins with elation.

“Do you want me to stick my tongue so far up your pussy? Do you want this dick to unhinge you like it has done so . many . fucking. times? His fingers slid into her. They were thick and rapid, digging deeper with every ripple.

“You want this, I know you do. I can feel it no doubt; it’s what I’m good at.” His yellow eyes appeared, and the most beautiful smirk followed suit. She practically melted, her hands gripping the sides of the sink.

“Drift...fall with me…” the echo of his voice came back, but so did her sanity, as her friend came entering the bathroom.

“Aria are you okay in here?” She spoke, the door creaking open slowly at the same time as Aria’s hand came crashing against the bathroom mirror, a high pitch scream leaving her mouth. It shattered, breaking her skin. She drew her hand back, watching as the thick crimson trickled down her arm.

“I’m-im Hurt.” She was at a loss; in a trance.

“Aria! Omg.” AJ ran to grab her phone, dialing the paramedics before her friend's body came crashing to the bathroom floor, seeing black.

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#amethyst1993 #killmonger #halloween

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