#amethyst1993

We asked you all to let us know who you thought wrote the best smut scenes in all of the Black Panther fandom. Whose writing makes you sweat over and over again? IS THERE ONE?!

The fandom has spoken. What did they say?

Congratulations @amethyst1993

Your smutty fingers and your kinky, nasty mind are loved. Just wash those fingers... when you're done.💦

*PLEASE bless yourselves with these fics!!!

MASTERLIST

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2nd Place:

@erikismybitch 👑 MASTERLIST

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Honorable Mentions

Adonis Creed x Black Reader.

Imagine: Donnie is having baby fever and he wants to make you pregnant at all costs.

“Hey, Babe?”

Donnie called from the bathroom after dabbing his face with a white micro fiber towel. He was bare everywhere else, standing in front of a fogged mirror.

“Yes, D?” His favorite girl responded from their shared bedroom. They had been dating for about three years. Donnie’s friends in Philly kept asking him when he would settle down and make it official with his brown skin beauty which he hadn’t popped the question yet. One thing’s for sure, he had the guts to want her pregnant. Ever since he visited his friend and fellow boxing opponent, Victor, seeing him take care of a baby had him wanting a fat butter ball brown baby with shiny hair and chubby wrists.

“You ever think about having a baby?” He asked casually while rubbing neosporin on his under eye cut from his victory win.

“Where is this coming from?” She spoke with her Jersey accent even though she lived in Philly.

“I’m curious. I can’t be curious?” He asked with a raised brow and an astonished tone.

“You can! It’s a free country I just wanna know what made you say it?” She said in a quiet voice because of his aggressive response.

“Maybe it’s because I wanna put a baby in you.” Donnie picked up her cocoa butter and vitamin E body oil gel, smoothing it across his chest, neck, arms, back, and abdomen.

“Oh, please,” she said in a flippant tone.

“I’m dead fucking serious. You still on the pill?” Finally finished, Donnie turned off the bathroom light and walked across the hall to their shared bedroom. Naked and standing in front of their dresser, Donnie pulls out a pair of basket ball shorts with a wife beater.

“No, I stopped like a week ago.”

“Why you stop? Figured I’d be asking for a fucking baby?”

“No...I just never got them refilled. Had a million and one other things to take care of. Like...teaching a class full of hormonal seventh graders who want to do nothing but fight.” She places her phone on the night stand next to her to give Donnie her full attention. Online shopping would have to wait.

“So...” he looked her up and down in an arrogant manner, “wassup?”

“Wassup is I have a class to teach in the morning and I’m tired,” she slouched down on their memory foam mattress, pulling the lamp light string to cloud the room in darkness except for the television. They were currently in the middle of season two of Dark.

“Forget all that tired shit, Y/N,” Donnie placed his body next to hers, looking down at her. She looked damn good with her curls in a pineapple and one of his wife beaters on like a night gown. She looked so delectable.

“I’m tryna plant my seed in you.”

“Like I’m soil or something? Nigga go to bed! You sure your brain cells still working after getting punched in the nugget so much?!” She laughed at her own joke.

“Funny, cuz as soon as I stand up you’ll be acting all scared. Don’t talk shit now if you can’t back it up, babe.” He even tries that calm, passionate, and husky voice that always drove her crazy. Crazy like he owned her or something. No matter how many times Donnie told her that he owned her she would never let him have it but as soon as he was fucking her into the soft mattress she would give in.

“Aw, are you trying to sweet talk me into opening my thighs, Mr?” She gave him a teasing smile.

“Y/N, I don’t have to tease. You’ll do it anyway.” He was right, but he didn’t have to be correct right now she was exhausted.

“Adonis, you just had a fight maybe...four hours ago? All that stamina and adrenaline doesn’t have you on E? You really want to do this now?” She whines like a child, legs automatically opening for him and Donnie trapping himself in between.

“Think of it as...a victory present. You give me a baby, and my night would be 100% better,” Broadening smile, he looks down between her legs noticing the simple yet sexy pair of colorful polka dotted boy shorts she wore.

“These looking real sexy on you by the way,” Donnie places his body flesh against hers, the smell of the body oil gel on him crowding her senses. His skin felt so slick and warm. Y/N gripped his biceps tightly, pushing softly at him.

“You’re driving me crazy,” she breathed out harshly, tiny sounds of struggle escaping her closed mouth as she unsuccessfully pushed at his large frame.

“How many times you gotta do that, Y/N? Baby girl?”

Donnie was humored when she tried to keep up with her shoving like the bratty girl she was. This reminded him to bring her to the gym when he practiced. Adonis had enough of her struggling, grabbing her small wrists that fit in his hands perfectly. Using force that had her eyes blinking with lust and mouth parted as if choking on her words, Donnie brings her arms up above her head.

“Stop.” He says between hard breaths.

Gulping, Y/N stills herself, keeping her eyes locked with his, waiting for his next move.

“Are you done playing hard to get now?” The sneering smile on his face made her glare at him.

“You can’t always have what you want. You expect to be a champion everywhere,” Y/N rolled her eyes in a pretty manner, turning her head to focus over Donnie’s broad shoulder at the TV. She was missing the damn episode. Now, she was going to have to rewind.

“Oh? I thought I was.”

“Says who?” Y/N back talked, moving her hips in annoyance but it only aroused Donnie even more.

“Y/N...” Donnie tilted his head down at her to gain access back to her pretty tawny colored eyes, “You telling me you don’t want a baby in you?”

“...Maybe.” In moments like these a woman’s mind wanders. She began to think about what life would be like raising a baby with Adonis. Her made up future that she played out in her head seemed perfect.

“Think about all the moments we would share. Think about watching our baby grow in your belly for nine months. Think about all of that and how I’m gonna be there.” Donnie kisses her forehead, making those low throaty sounds that always drove her crazy.

“You’re wrong for this,” She moves away from his kisses, “Don’t try to seduce me into this with your sexy noises.”

“You’re not making it easy for me, girl.”

She could feel his dick jumping against her inner thigh. Seething, She looks back at him, wanting badly to catch a smug smile but his face was deadly serious. Y/N regrets how that made her feel. He was staring into her soul and it felt like he was reading her mind. Donnie knew from the moment he was in that bathroom that she would give into him.

“...just for a little bit. When we fuck it can go on for hours.”

The smile on his face was adorable. He covers his face with her belly, looking up at her through his long lashes. Y/N takes her hand, rubbing the back of his head tenderly while keeping his gaze. He could be so adorable at times. Pulling at his ear that always made him fall asleep, Donnie takes his fingers, grabbing the edge of her panties to pull them down. Y/N closes her eyes to enhance the feeling of touch against her skin. It always worked. The fabric was passed her knees now, bare pussy cool against the air of the room.

Adonis takes his rough yet gentle hands to part her thighs, all while Y/N kept her eyes closed. She could feel him wrapping his large arms around her plush thighs, pulling her toward him a little. His knees rested on the back of her thighs elevating her legs a little more. Donnie pulls the shorts down and around his ankles causing the bed to shift and bounce slightly. Now that he was back in place, she shudders from the texture of his toned thighs against hers. Leaning his large body forward her legs automatically went up and over his shoulders. He was going to kill her like this. This was his favorite position. Opening her eyes, she could see him looking down at his dick. Always beautiful to look at she focused on it too, admiring the way he jerked it a little to get it the way he liked.

Stilling his hand, Donnie points it at her pussy, not inserting but rubbing gently over her folds to slick him up. He was smirking at her then and it made her roll her eyes. Of course her pussy was wet, it always was when she was around him. He didn’t even have to talk to make her wet all he had to do was exist. He had a habit of brushing his dick along Y/N’s clit and she loved the stimulation but not as much as his own tongue doing the job. This went on for another minute because Donnie loved the way she reacted to his motions with the soft moans she tried to hide and how low her eyes were.

“Stop teasing me...” she brought one hand up to rest over her forehead.

“Stop feeling so good against me then.” Donnie strokes downward, finally bringing his dick to her entrance. Stiffness overtook her hips as to prepare her for the insertion. She always had to do this with Donnie. They could have sex over 500 times and she would still do this to prepare for the collision. He was rather girthy so the feeling of fullness always took a lot to get used to. Y/N used his biceps as handle bars instead of the rocky headboard. Donnie inserts the tip while gripping himself, stopping once he was half way in. Y/N automatically clamped her thighs around him, locking him there.

“Oh, shit,” she whispers, “go slow.”

“Y/N, I’m not even all the way there yet. Loosen up your legs for me,” Donnie looked down at her with a raised brow, “you want me to hold your legs back for you? I will.”

Donnie uses the force of his toned hips to ease himself further, finding it rather difficult when Y/N wouldn’t let up from her hold. Taking matters into his own hands, Donnie holds her legs back, pushing fully in now. She bit down on her bottom lip, eyes clenched at the same time her pussy clenched him.

“Sweet fucking torture.” He says with a chuckle.

“Fuck.” Y/N looks up and over his shoulder.

“You Okay?” Donnie sniffles a little while speaking in a hushed tone.

“...what you think?” Y/N squints at him.

“...I think you want me to keep going honestly.”

There clearly was no denying that with the way her eyes looked. Not giving him the response he clearly wanted, Y/N allowed herself to feel every single push and pull action he provided while fucking her. His hand came down to grab the collar of the wife beater she wore, pull the fabric like it was a lasso for him to hold onto for the ride. Her breasts peaked over and the view was enough to make him move faster. The head board smashed loud against the wall.

“Damn, D,” she wiggles, one hand coming down to rest over his abdomen. Adonis places his arms on either side of her head, moving in and out, in and out, pace increasing with each passing stroke. That damn annoying banging and spring bouncing wasn’t loud enough to hide Y/N’s moans.

“Yes, D, fuck me,” smiling over her shoulder at his accomplishment, Donnie snapped his hips forward to perfect his stoke earning a sexy moan from her.

“So wet and so tight,” he praises while continuing his assault on her warm pussy. Eyes rolling with pleasure, Donnie bends down to take one of her nipples into his mouth, her hands coming up to stroke the back of his head. Her legs automatically widened and her cries pierced his ears.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” Her knees dig into his neck from their position, breathing harsh and shallow as her pussy gripped him tightly. Donnie could feel her creaming on him and this was just number one.

“You ready to give me another one?” Donnie teased in her ear, “I want another one.”

“Yes.” The smacking of flesh peaked and all she could do was take it. Donnie started to grunt and moan in her ear, driving her ass insane.

“Oh, Mhm, Mhm, Yes, give me that pussy.”

That alone had her hollering. She could feel the urge to pee and that meant one thing.

“Shit, I think I’m gonna squirt,” Y/N always did in this position anyway. That’s why Donnie fucked her like this.

“Fuck, ahh,” she clenched her fists, accepting the intense feeling since her legs were locked around his neck and she couldn’t go anywhere. Stretching out her thighs over his shoulder, she releases herself on him, astonished by the way he continued to fuck her through the mess. She wasn’t going to stop him.

“Donnie!!!” Y/N felt him throb inside of her. This was it, he was going to cum deep inside of her and she had no protection. The thought of him doing that has her locking her legs so hard on him to keep him in. She was just complaining of being exhausted now she wanted him to stay buried deep inside so she could milk it all. Insane.

“DAMN GIRL!!” He increases his motion, “I’m about to make you pregnant! You ready for this nut?!”

“Yes! Give it to me, Daddy!”

“I gotchu, baby, Daddy gotchu!”

————-

Y/N stares down at the second pregnancy test that evening after work. She waited a while, around three weeks before testing herself to give it some time. Tapping her acrylic claw nails against the marble bathroom sink counter, she frustratingly sighs, pushing both negative tests on the floor. She tried a total of four that day. Two at work and two at home. Y/N ran a hand through her braid out, biting her lip to calm herself. She needed to scream into her pillow. All that excitement over the last three weeks between her and Donnie over the possibility of having a little baby felt so false. She hated feeling like that only to find out him cumming inside of her didn’t work at all.

“Screw this shit,” she threw her hands up, ready to leave the damn bathroom. That was until she heard Donnie down the hall.

“Babe! I went past the grocery store on my way back to grab the fresh salmon for tonight. Figured you could make me that teriyaki salmon again, shit was good.”

Finally at the bathroom door, Donnie noticed one of the tossed pregnancy tests near his feet. Picking it up, he flipped it over in his hand, noticing the negative sign. He wasn’t completely clueless, he knew what that meant. Not saying a word, Donnie looks up at Y/N, reading the stress in her shoulders and back. She had on a fitted sundress, the yellow one that he liked. Her ass looked extra phat every time she wore it.

“Negative, Donnie. After cumming in me twice no pregnancy,” with folded arms, Y/N turns to him, “do you think it’s because I took a bath after and it may have washed out? I don’t know...it’s just weird.”

Shrugging, Donnie walks forward, leaning against the sink, “nah, maybe you should have waited to test yourself. Maybe a month?” Donnie didn’t really know all he could do was try and comfort her some how.

“...I guess I can wait until then I just...I was just hoping to see it, you know? We had our hopes up.”

She had that sad face that Donnie hated. Pulling her into his embrace, Donnie hugs her close with his nose in her hair.

“Baby girl, we had sex how many times after that? One of times could be it as well.”

She rolls her eyes, “I’m just...I was excited.”

“I’m still excited, shit, I get to cum in you whenever I want.” Y/N scowls at Donnie, ready to leave that bathroom and go to sleep. Her body was so tired.

“Babe, we have so many other opportunities. Don’t let this one discourage you.” Her smell had him going wild. It was sweet and warm. The stimulations from her scent went straight for his dick. The more it pressed against his jeans the more painful it became. Pulling her away from him, Donnie looks down on her with low dangerous eyes. Y/N looked from his lips to his eyes, waiting for what she was sure was about to happen. Without warning, Donnie palms her ass, squeezing then spanking her.

“Who told you to wear my favorite dress today, hm?” He had both of his hands on her ass now, spanking her with both hands because she didn’t respond.

“Hm? I said who told you to wear this? You showing off all this?” He spanked her harder, she jumps, “huh? You showing my ass that I touch and I eat out?” The crease in his brow had her breath hitching.

“No answer?” He rubbed her ass in circles, “no response? Just wake up and say fuck Donnie.”

“No...I just felt like wearing yellow, D.”

“Nah, I think you just felt like getting me mad. You must want me to fuck you like I’m mad at you.”

She couldn’t deny that his aggressiveness made her pussy wetter.

“N-no. I just...I felt like being cute today. It’s hot, baby.”

Smiling, he places a sweet kiss to her cheek, “you are cute, but still...You didn’t ask for my permission, gorgeous.”

Donnie flips her around to face the mirror without warning, taking one of his hands to pull her back by her hair while his other hand pulled the dress up and around her waist. Thong covered ass was now visible.

“Shit, you got a thong on too?” He chuckles, getting down behind her to pull at the string. Donnie takes the fabric, pulling it to the side to expose her pussy.

“Bend over.”

She does, hands planted on the mirror. Donnie takes one of her legs and lifts it onto the sink, opening her up more to see. Perfect. He spreads her cheeks, sticking his tongue out and eating her from pussy to ass. Nails dragging against the mirror she moaned, staring st her flustered reflection. His long wiggling tongue reached ever spot with precision.

“Oh my god that feels so good baby,” Y/N’s head fell in defeat, she couldn’t control how weak she was from him eating alone. He rubbed on her and kissed and licked. All the anger she felt about the pregnancy test was out the window. He flicked her clit and that’s what had her screaming.

“Bend that ass over, now. Spread your fucking legs...yeah...arch your back too,” Donnie pulls his pants down, shirt up to his chin and exposing that body to her yet again. Locking eyes in the mirror, Donnie held onto one of her legs while inserting himself inside of her pussy. She arched automatically, face planted against the glass. Her breath fogged the mirror with every moan and cry of pleasure. He was literally fucking her guts up and this was nothing like last night. The obscene smacking, the wet sounds, the vulgar names, Donnie was a different person. He always switched it up. Maybe this would get her pregnant this time.

“Daddy, omg!!!” She practically fell into the sink.

“I know I’m getting that ass pregnant now with how I’m fucking the shit out this tight ass fucking pussy!”

She looked at his face while he was all in her pussy, locking eyes and sharing moans of pleasure.

“Fuck me! Shit, fuck me!” Donnie pulled at her hair, pulling her back onto his dick over and over. This man was a raging bull.

“Daddy, hold up,” she tried to push at him, “daddy hold up I’m cumming!”

Donnie didn’t say a word all he did was fuck. She had no other choice but to grip the edge of the sink and hold on for the ride. Eyes watering, Y/N tried to breathe out through her nose.

“Fuck, Donnie! Shit, Baby!” Her orgasm hit hard like a high velocity ball striking someone’s head. It was so huge she pushed his dick out with force. Donnie didn’t like that at all. He grabbed her up, picking her up one handed and wrapping her legs around him.

“You wanna push me out when I’m tryna buss all in you? Don’t do that again.”

She was filled once again, arms around his neck and dress up to her waist. Donnie bounces her over him quick and smooth, uncaring of how much she cried about it being too deep or too much. He knew she couldn’t handle it like this but the more he fucked her through the struggle it just made him even more horny.

“I love this fucking pussy,” he watched with love as she came on his dick again, almost falling off of him.

“You gotta hold on baby. It’s like a ride, you gotta let me drive it,” she smiles despite her exhaustion, pulling Donnie into a kiss while he fucked her. Touching foreheads they both got lost in the moment with locked eyes and shared breaths. All he wanted to do was make her pregnant. He could give her more than one baby if she kept feeling like this and loving him like this.

“Oh, fuck, I’m about to cum,” He said with struggle, “open your legs so I can get deeper.”

She cried into his neck, hands wrapped around him to hold herself steady. Whenever Donnie was about to cum, he would push so deep her cervix could feel the impact. With his hands squeezing the hell out of her ass Donnie pumped into her one last time before exploding, shaky arms pulling her tightly to the point of breaking her spine. She could feel the warm liquid fill her up. Y/N clenched him while he slowly strokes, making sure he got everything out and where it was supposed to be. Donnie rubbed his sweaty face against hers, stilling himself but not leaving her cavern.

“Babe,” She was too tired to get him to put her down.

“Y/N, I’m not pulling out.”

“Donnie,” she pushed at him, “Baby my legs hurt.”

“Wait, Y/N, I’m getting hard again.”

“What? Fuck...” she knew exactly what that meant.

“We gotta make sure you get pregnant, baby girl. I need you pregnant next time.”

————-

“You are definitely pregnant, Y/N!”

She could have jumped in that exam room. That rough sex was clearly needed to get things going.

“How far along?”

“About two months.”

Confused, Y/N blinks down at the ultrasound tech, eyes traveling from the screen that didn’t make any sense to her and the gel that covered her belly.

“Wait...I tested and it said negative.”

Donnie even had the same look on his face.

“False readings are normal, Miss Y/N. Happens all the time.”

Y/N and Donnie shared a look, humor dancing between them both.

“Didn’t I tell you to wait a little?” He wanted to say that so bad clearly.

“Yeah! But I just-“

“Would you look at THAT! Two heart beats! No...wait...three?!”

Donnie went slack jawed and wide eyed. Y/N was just as frozen but more calm enough to speak.

“Three?! Triplets?! You sure? Cuz ... I’m looking at a whole lot of grainy mess.”

“Yes. Three is here in your womb!”

Donnie has his eyes planted to her belly. Three? How the hell was he going to raise three.

“Three tiny Creed’s.”

———-

So this is a request from an anon. I did a few prompts with things that Erik would say so I figured it would be cool to make a prompt list with things that OC/Reader would say to Erik or any other male or female fictional character if you want to change up the wordplay. 

“Hey, Daddy”

“Yes, Daddy”

“You plan on coming over later, right?”

“I need your lips on me...all over me...”

“He just feel too good girl.”

“If you grab my throat all ima do is smile. You messing with a freak, baby.”

“I don’t know why me and my pussy are never on the same page. IM MAD. She takes it upon herself to get all wet as soon as he comes around,” *shakes head* “weak bitch.”

“You know you’re horny when the heart in your coochie start beating,” *laughs*

“Look at Daddy, you see that face? I ride that face every night.” *flicks tongue*

“Moaning is one thing that men can do right and they refuse to do it...selfish.”

“Erik is always talking about FiX YoUR AtTiTuDe I’m like no, fuck it out of me.” 

“I love it when he licks his lips and looks me dead in the eye talking about some don’t play wit me. Real shit all calm like,” *hisses*

*watching him roll up having you wish you were the blunt*

“Oh you love this pussy, huh?” 

“You either gonna eat my pussy or shut the fuck up.”

“Daddy loves me.” 

“Just wanna sit on his lap and feel him get hard.” 

“Where have you been all day? You forgot about me?” *fakes anger* 

“All you had to do was tell me you wanted your dick sucked. You know I love sucking dick.”

“Forreal he so damn freaky. This nigga then converted me into a five star freak.”

“He likes it when I play shy. He said it makes his dick harder.”

“My Daddy always gives me presents.”

*smiles softly with a lip bite*

*strokes back hair purposely slow to gain his attention*

*wears tight biker shorts and sundresses with no panties*

*grabs his dick instead of his hand while he’s driving*

“He helps me pick out my nail colors” *smiles*

“You like the way I rock my hips on this dick?”

“Bite my neck, shit, act like a vampire.”

*kisses his neck to get his attention*

*suck his dick while he washes your hair*

“You wanna watch me play with my pussy?”

“I’m horny as fuck. I know you gotta go to work babe but let me just sit on it.”

“We should make some food, watch a movie, fuck, cuddle, then fuck again because you know that’s how we do.”

“I’m high as hell right now and all I wanna do is fuck in the back seat.”

“Baby, baby, babyyyyyyyyyy.”

Him: yes baby girl?

“Hi.” 

“You like the way I throw this ass back on you? Feel good don’t it Daddy? I got you moaning.” 

“Eat this good pussy. Don’t stop...fuck, lick it just like that.”

“You didn’t fuck me, i fucked you.” 

“Make me.”

“I got a belly ring with Erik’s name on it because I’m the realest bitch to ever do it!” 

“Why he gotta look at me like that?”

“Can you suck my nipples?” 

“I like that I don’t have to ask Daddy for nothing. He already knows when I want and need something.”

Him: you look good

“I taste good too.”

“Put both of my legs over your shoulders.”

*Licks lips seductively*

“You hear how wet my pussy sound?”

“Daddy, I love this big dick.”

“I’m freaky for one nigga and one nigga ONLY.”

“My man is sexy, hung, and he smells the fuck good.”

“I love it when you touch me like that.”

“Grab my booty.”

*moans in his ear*

*lick his earlobe*

“Stick three fingers in my pussy, baby.”

“Feels like heaven, doesn’t it?”

“Fuck, shit, ooooh,” 

“I want you to buy me a necklace with your name on it so you can watch it hang while I ride your dick.” 

“My mouth is salivating for some dick right now.”

“Once I’m comfortable with you I turn into a porn star.”

“Let’s make our own movies to cum to later.”

“You like this arch?!”

“Tell me how much you love me while I bounce on the dick.”

“Yeah, I like to bounce on his dick! It’s big, and fun.” 

“He does nothing but encourage me while I fuck him that shit is so sexy to me.”

“Girl I get so damn horny when he grab the headrest of my seat to reverse his car.” *moans*

“Fuck, you look so sexy counting money.”

“Choke me out.” 

“Fuck sex can I come lay my head on your chest and vent? I mean...we’re gonna fuck regardless but can we talk first?”

“He like to ask me how my day was while fucking the shit outta me.” 

“Let me make him mad real quick I need some back breaking sex.”

“I love Daddy’s good dick.”

“Spoil me, Daddy.”

“I’ve been a very bad girl.”

*grabs his dick through his pants in public*

“Suck on my neck that shit is relaxing.”

“I’m a shy freak.”

Him: Ima choke you

“Okay and ima like it, the fuck.” 

“I’ll let erik do anything to me. I’m all about the freaky shit.”

“His dick is so fucking good it makes me wanna go back in time and loose my virginity to this nigga.”

“I’m tryna give one nigga my heart and all my throat.”

“You ever cry while having sex? I do all the time me and Erik fuck. That nigga be so deep.”

“Wanna wet his fucking face up.”

“I just want some sex so nasty that there will be absolutely no question that I’m going to hell.”

“I’m not perfect but I’m loyal, fun, and nasty as fuck.”

“I love it when you call me a good girl ‘cause we both know I’m not.”

“My body wants you badly.”

“Spank me. It’s the only way I learn.”

“Get in bed and play with me.”

“Tie me up and play with me, Daddy. Pretty please?”

“Send me a nut video instead of a dick pic.”

“I love that aggressive shit though, Erik. Grip my little ass up and show me who the fuck Daddy is.”

“He say my flavor is so delicious.”

“Lets fuck?”

“Tease me until I’m begging for it.”

“Sex so damn good I can barely walk in the morning.”

“I like to fuck Erik when he fresh out the shower. Body all wet...dreads dripping...dick even prettier with little droplets of water on it...skin smelling like raw Shea.”

“I can be so damn nasty in my head I gotta tell myself to chill.”

“Erik, come here, let me make you feel better.”

“You sure you don’t wanna fuck tonight, E?”

“He loves my thick thighs and pretty eyes.”

“Babe, I bought some butter pecan ice cream! Remember the last time when you ate it off my pussy…”

“This man gets me wet just by talking to me. Shit, just by looking at me. Him breathing in air makes my pussy wet.”

“Don’t just look at my ass eat it.”

“I love the way you fuck me.”

“He mad cuz Erik stunting on him. Your loss dumb ass.”

“I want you in my life, nigga. And in my guts and in my throat.”

“Don’t touch my thighs! My pussy like a splash park right now.” 

“You gotta rub your ass against his print by accident on purpose.”

“My pussy gets too wet for me to be out here getting played.”

“Everything is all fun and games until he’s hitting you from behind and he grabs the top of your shoulders and starts demolishing you. You can’t move, run, breathe, it’s too much going on.”

“I’m tryna get on your dick baby not on your nerves...just kidding ima get on both.”

“You wanna argue or get your dick swallowed?”

“I wanna sit on your lap, give you kisses, and call you daddy all day.”

“I love when a nigga take control, sexy as fuck.”

“I need my soul took. I think that’s why I’ve been so damn salty lately.”

“Getting my titties sucked feels sooooo good.”

“Rather be with you and all yo good dick, Erik. Problematic or not.”

“Niggas be good as fuck until you lick on their neck and ear. Yeah, little bitch you like that, huh?”

“He told me to call him Daddy and he asked me who pussy this is. I told him yours and locked my legs around his waist.”

“Erik, I could be sucking your dick until I make you cum right now but you mad right now.”

“Just come over and we’ll watch Netflix or make a sex tape I don’t know we’ll see what happens.”

“I have sex in my head all the time.”

Him: if you suck my dick while I drive that tells me you’re willing to die to make me bust a nut. I love you, crazy bitch.

“I love you too, Daddy.”

“I want to be slutty but only with one person, you feel me?”

“Princess in the streets, Daddy’s good girl in the sheets.” 

“I want some head until I cry, until my legs start shaking kind of head.”

“I miss my baby.”

“If you touch my thigh under the table in public just know you gonna be getting some later.”

“He eat my pussy and finger it at the same time...he’s the damn devil.”

“Shit, for you I would fuck on the first date.”

“You better not pull out.”

“He makes me his cum bucket all the time.”

“Cum so good.”

“Why your dick taste like sugar?”

“And? I want some more dick.”

“Erik can eat my pussy for hours and I wouldn’t stop him either.”

“The veins in his arms drives me crazy.”

“He so damn sexy. He needs to hurry up home so I can praise him and fuck him.”

“Sometimes I want it rough and wild. Other times I want it slow and sensual.”

“Me and my pussy not friends no more she always betrays me.”

“Shout out to the dude I fuck with. You the shit baby.”

“He stay getting in my guts but wanna kiss me soft.”

“I wear the smallest and tightest shit just to make him mad so he can fuck me and ruin it.”

“Stop covering my ass in this sundress!”

*sucks on his bottom lip*

*licks his chest*

*moans his name*

“Erik so bold he’d take a pic with my tittie in his mouth.”

“I sleep naked on purpose so he can wake me up in the morning with some head.”

“Erik always takes care of me.”

“Don’t Tell me what to do.”

Him: if I say bend that ass over, what you gonna do?

“Bend that ass over.”

“This nigga always talk to my pussy when he eating it. Talking about some pussy you so pretty and pussy you taste so fucking good, where you want my tongue next?”

“If you kiss my neck I’m not responsible for what happens next.”

A snippet.

Rage flowed through him like molten lava.

His fury sprang to life.

His edge of irritation had definitely returned.

Today, at approximately 3:15 am, on Saturday, he was wearing a suit. A Harrogate Black Indochino suit made with 95% Merino Wool, and only 5% luxurious Cashmere; which was a shame because it added warmth, softness, and lightness. His feet were covered in D-ring detail Monogram Patent Leather formal dress shoes by Burberry. Fixing his silver cufflinks with obvious aggressiveness, he began to walk the length of the hallway.

It wasn’t a typical hallway located in a fancy banquet or ballroom. No. It was narrow and smelly. Windowless, and ancient. Gloomy with a sadistic secret. Hideously colored. Cold and annoyingly stuffy. And to top it all off, accompanied with flickering fluorescent light bulbs and walls with chipped off-white paint. When he walked,  you could hear the sound of his dress shoes bouncing off of the hollow walls. His hands were clasped behind his back casually, whistling to himself a random catchy tune he came up with. Godspeed to the person he was looking for, the one that earned him a bloody lip that leaked onto his once perfectly crisp and white dress shirt.

This was child’s play. Hide and seek was for five-year-olds named Sally, Susie, Billy, and Mikey. So much for trying to be a different kind of horror. No matter how much he veered away from that narrative, people still found him to be like Micheal Myers. How he couldn’t tell you. Micheal was clearly otherworldly and not human. As for him, he was all human. One gunshot to the head and he would drop to his knees with eyes as wide as saucers, falling forehead first in a pool of blood. One quick step and a precise strike with a Karambit knife would slice open his gut leading to a slow, yet painful death.

Speaking of knives, he was currently holding a kukri: a middle Asia knife that is weighed in the front. It gives the user more downward force and power. Commonly used to chop down tree limbs, or in his case...human limbs.

With sharp ears like a wolf, he could hear breathing. Struggling, pained breathing. It was coming from his right. Oh, how nice...a dark room with a tiny rusted window that reminded you of a dank basement that belonged to a serial killer. Funny...he was a serial killer. Not like a Ted Bundy, or a Jeffrey Dahmer. Nah, those were the kinds he went after. Those were the ones who ended up here in his secret layer holding on to their last breaths before the final image they see is the morgue lights.

He could taste blood. His anger felt so good but it would feel even better if he just had that son of a bitch. His nostrils flared. With twitching eyes, he made his way into that pitch black room like he had night vision goggles on. With his hunting and tracking skills, he makes his way slyly into the room, twirling that Kukri knife in hand skillfully like a switchblade. Taking in a deep breath, then exhaling, he finally speaks.

“Funny...I actually thought to tie your legs with a chain but the urge to kill you was eating away at me. Excuse my fault...you won’t have long to worry about that shit anyway.”

Moving his eyes from left to right, he walks along the cold concrete wall, dragging that knife across it with every step.

“You won’t believe what I have in my hand. It’s your Kukri. You’re familiar with those, right? You use them a lot when you murder all those girls, correct? I can understand why it gets the job done.”

He takes the knife and places it firmly in his grip, walking with a rigid form. He could smell the alcohol and infection on him and it was only a matter of time before he unleashed again on his prey. His disgusting prey. The prey who preyed on little girls...one, in particular, Samara Jenkins.

—————-

15 hours ago:

“This is NBC 6, South Florida News. Today, Miami Police found the body of the missing six-year-old girl: Samara Ella Jenkins. Daughter to pastors of Heavenly Home Baptist Church, Ertha Jenkins, and Sydney Jenkins. Their daughter had been missing for over two weeks now. Miami police have been searching day in, and day out for this missing pure soul, and today...they finally made a discovery.”

Erik watched while the news reporter drowns on. The camera scanned the Everglades. It looked particularly dry and withering; a fucking Gator central. With narrow hawk eyes, a single vein appearing in the middle of his forehead, he took in the news he really wanted to hear, no matter how hard it was to listen. He needed to listen. It was his God-given duty to listen.

“Young Samara was found here in the wetlands wrapped in a trash bag, surrounded by Alligators. It took great difficulty at first, but the Police have confirmed that it is indeed Samara. The family has asked for privacy at this time, and the immediate finding of her murderer.”

Pausing his TV, Erik got up from his seated position, walking through his living room and towards the kitchen. His steel toe Doc Martens dragged across the freshly placed tile of his Miami apartment, walking past the black marble kitchen island and directly towards his office. It was time. If his memory serves him, it had been almost a month since his last kill. The urge was building up so much within him he was ready to combust. The sound of his Father's old grandfather clock that was given to him as a gift before he died ticked in the background eerily. Finally, standing in front of his fireproof wall safe, Erik cracked his combination. Pulling open the door slowly, he came face to face with his treat.

He’d like to call it… a souvenir. He took pride in it like a child did a sand castle on the beach. They served as trophy cases to him. There, lies a box with blood slides. In it housed 46 slides of his victims. Taking the box, Erik places it on top of his glass desk. Opening the box, he ran a single finger gently across the top of the slides as the glass slightly clattered. At times, he would refer to the slides as “my secret” or other times, “my pride kills...my friends.”

It’s funny that he called them friends. A few he caught the attention of by raising a glass with an easy-going smile. For others, he would pick up a random conversation from maybe bumping shoulders about the Miami weather and how shitty their jobs were. Or even, dropping a hint of sexual interest that always seemed to work since his looks were beyond dismal. Ordinary. Regular. No. Erik was handsome. The kind of handsome you would find in a Calvin Klein add or sitting in VIP at some high-end club surrounded by models. Not a woman could walk by and not stop and stare.

“I guess I gotta make it 47,” he lets out controlled breaths, eyes watering with anger. The person's blood who would reside on the empty forensic slide goes by the name of Dean Orrin. 38 years old and an ex-military man. A man who should be registered as a Pedophile but instead walks the streets of South Beach proud and cocky. This man, what a son of a bitch. This redneck.  Such a waste of fresh air and space. The raging alcoholic and child abuser worked as a Respiratory Therapist at a children’s hospital. Can you believe it? A fucking children’s hospital. His shifts were Monday through Thursday, 9 am to 5 pm. He drove a 1992 Ford Mustang in red, seats covered in fresh leather.

Too bad the vintage car didn’t match this man’s physical appearance.

He was short, balding, square-shaped with a beer belly and a faux-friendly face that belonged to a white man you wouldn’t dare assume was a murderer of young black and Latina girls ranging from the ages of 4 to 10.

Erik would sit outside of Dean’s Miami Shores home on Ne 92nd Street. He lived alone, kept the doors unlocked to give off a friendly vibe,  picked up the newspaper every day around 8:00 am, and ate the same old Salisbury steak TV dinner around 7:45 pm in front of his flat screen; his prized possession. One evening while Dean was away, Erik took the time to investigate Dean’s home. Of course, he would find child pornography on his computer, and even worse an entirely dark room with cardboard boxes filled with photographs of his victims bound and naked.

Erik picked up a picture of little Samara, afraid and weak with ropes around her little body. His eyes watered with rage, biting down on his tongue and ignoring the pain. He felt worse pain anyway. This was sickening. How could you hurt such an innocent child? Such pure light? It made no sense to him. Clearly, Dean had something deep and traumatic going on with him to resort to this type of lifestyle. Erik had demons too, and he sometimes wondered if they were all one and the same; a family of murderers United. He’d keep Samaras photo, it would only serve to kill Dean even more. Slide number 47 would be clean no longer.

Erik has built a file on this man for over a month now. After finding out about the murder of his Neighbors young Latina daughter, Cassie, age 8, he began to piece together the parts that Miami Day Police failed to do.

Dean’s way of going about doing things was getting to know the children that came through Giving Hands Children’s Hospital in South Beach. He would give them treats, learn things about them, and extract whatever information he needed from their files. No personal contact involving the parents, no meetups or anything, just getting the information and kidnapping the children.

He didn’t do it so often. Dean’s stretch would be at least a month or two in between. Samara was his fourth murder. Erik broke it down one rainy night in his office how Dean successfully snatched Samara and killed her. Heavenly Home Baptist Church held fundraisers for their neighborhood. The last night Samara was seen, only two weeks ago on a Thursday, was the night of Youth Day. It was an open house for anyone to come in and be a part of because Heavenly Hope housed generous, God-fearing people. Little Samara took her badminton racket to the back lawn, never telling her mother she was going out for some fresh air. She’d been gone for over an hour and Miss Ertha made a plate filled with Samaras favorites.

Well, you could probably guess what happened next, right? Everyone at that church searched high and low for her. Her parents and siblings had sleepless nights, signs and billboards were made, all in a span of two weeks. It hurts deep like an open wound. Erik never had kids, probably never will...but still...he could feel their pain. No matter, Erik was a man of his word. He wasn’t great in combat with a keen skill in blood spatter analysis, tracking, and weapons training for nothing. He’d put all of that to good use.

———

Saturday, April 1st: the day of fools. 1:30 am.

Sitting in an expensive suit that he intended to wear on a date, Erik finally finds the perfect opportunity to catch Dean. Erik could only hope that his date wouldn’t be angry with him, after all, she practically begged.

This motherfucker couldn’t be serious, could he?

He was already drunk off of Jack Daniels and now he was gearing towards entering an 18 and over club on Ocean Drive. The rage in Erik boiled his blood. Was Dean trying to age up his victims now? Is cockiness getting to him since he hadn’t been caught yet?

All of these things added to Erik’s fury, but the fury was what he needed to stay amped up. Anger for Erik made him more proud. He was correct to lay down an extra layer of plastic this time.

“Sick motherfucker,” Erik shakes his head, a single finger tapping at the steering wheel of his burner car that he used for kills; some beat up old Chevy with a stolen license plate.

This vigilante never sleeps when it comes to a kill.

Just stay in the shadows, Erik…

Night time is your time.

You have to be cunning to outwit your foes. The flashing club lights ignited his face purple, red, and blue. Bodies moved about in packs, sweat dripping and fingers intertwined. Erik could almost feel the heart beats racing among him. Young and naive they all were, especially the young girl Dean was eyeing.

She looked to be about 19, a drink in her hand and braids so long they swept the backs of her legs. She twirled, shouted to the music, and twerked in her own little world. Dean was compelled. Erik could see the killing fetish in his eyes so deep his pupils dilated an almost pitch black. Erik wanted badly to choke him up right here and finish the job but then that wouldn’t help him, would it? Keeping to the shadows, Erik watched until it was time for him to make his move.

———-

“Feel like making a deal with the devil?”

The young girl with honeyed skin and full lips turns to Dean, a little jumpy from being caught off guard. She regarded him, eyes squinted.

“Excuse me?”

“I said, do you feel like making a deal with the devil?”

Dean pulls out a baggy filled with LSD, swinging it in front of her face. The girl was tempted for a second, that was until she looked back at Dean and saw the sweat covering his face, a faded tattoo of a pentagram on the inside of his wrist, and the maniacal way he licked his lips.

“Uhm, no thanks. I’m okay.”

The young girl gave him a generous smile before sauntering away towards the back of the club. Clearly, Dean didn’t like being told no. He stood still for what felt like minutes, staring at her retreating form until she disappeared around a corner and out of sight. Like clockwork, Dean follows, a hand deep in his pocket and shoulders hunched. It was time, Erik had to make a move now before the young girl became Dean’s new victim.

Ignoring lingering stares of passion that he didn’t like nor accepted, Erik maneuvered through the crowd as they parted like the Red Sea for him, finally around that corner and hot on Dean’s trail. Apparently, the young girl wasn’t going to the ladies. There was an exit straight ahead, the LED of the sign almost blinding and cryptic. With much more speed now, Erik dashes to the back door, black leather gloved hand pushing open the swinging doors.

His dress shoes met a puddle, and his hands clenched into fists. There was no sign of either of them.

Fuck.

Deciding to make a left, Erik followed his path down the narrow garbage filled alley, head moving from left to right to find him. To his luck, he could hear struggling, choking breaths. Keeping close to the wall, Erik looked around that corner at the edge of the alley, coming face to face with the devil himself.

Dean had the young girl smashed against the brick wall, his hand lazily rubbing under her skirt. Every time she tried to scream, Dean would smash her face further into the brick.

“Shut up...shut up...shut up...SHUT UP!!!” Dean yelled, spit flying and a snarl on his face. He looked red from anger.

“Keep still you black bitch!!!! Keep still or I will slit your fucking throat with my knife!”

Erik has seen enough now.

Pulling out his 9mm pistol with a silencer, Erik’s 20/20 sniper vision aided him as he aimed a bullet at Dean’s side, watching as the stout man fell to his knees in agonizing pain, releasing the young girl from his deadly grip. She kicked away and down the alley in the opposite direction, screaming in tears and limping. A life saved, and one before him ready to be taken away.

Erik watched with joy and triumph as Dean stared into the darkness with confusion and pain, rolling around in the mud, shit, piss, and garbage juice.

“WHOS THERE!!!!!!!!!!” He yelled between cries, blood staining his teeth.

“AM I GOING TO DIE?!!!PLEASE, NO. AM I GOING TO DIE HERE?!!!”

Erik made his way towards him, adjusting his gloves and storing away his gun. It was so dark, Dean couldn’t make him out, but he could hear his footsteps.

“OMG. Who’s there!!!!!!!!!!”

Erik picks Dean up one-handed by his collar, silencing him with a tranquilizer to the neck. Dean was now dead weight. Luckily, his car was parked on the other side of the alley, and the coast was clear.

———

“Wha? Where am I?”

Dean blinked twice, rubbing his right hand over his dry tears. Sniffling snot, wrists in pain from being wrapped in chains, Dean stares into the pitch black, figuring he had to be in the trunk of a car with the smell of gas and rubber. Was this his fate? Was God finally judging him?

Death clearly doesn’t discriminate.

He took the lives of young girls, so now the price to pay was his life.

And to think he had a chance tonight with another kill. Maybe, it was too soon to go out for another thrill.

He could feel his death.

The amount of pain he was in, he felt like he was dead already. Ah, now he remembers. Someone shot him in the ribs back in that alley. Aiming for his respiratory technique, Dean breathed slowly and steadily, trying his hardest to avoid the feeling of his own blood dripping from his gunshot wound. If only he could apply pressure without bleeding out so much.

Whoever this person was wanted to take their time with him.

The sound of the car door slamming followed by the car shaking from the impact made Dean go stiff. It was time to meet His executioner. And when his time is up, would they tell his story? Make him another missing person? Dean much rather be seen in the spotlight like the Zodiac Killer had been. Too bad he wasn’t swift enough. Was it a parent of one of his victims? an off duty cop who just had to bring work home?

Whistling began.

“What?” Dean’s voice was scratchy and pathetic sounding.

With the trunk now open, Dean could feel the humid air of Miami pour in. Catching his breath and bracing himself, Dean came face to face with an unfamiliar foe. He had dreads braided back, a crisp suit that must have cost a fortune, hands covered with leather gloves and eyes so cold they could petrify you. He looked like a mercenary, or maybe a hit man. He was young, could be around early thirties. He smiled sadistically. Fuck. Was this bastard as crazy as him?

“It takes a monster to destroy a monster.”

That statement alone was bone chilling. He had the same kill stare but with a different goal.

“You’re playing my fucking game now. No little girls to touch and kill here. You should fear me.”

Swiftly, The unknown man grabbed Dean by the neck, pulling him up and out of the trunk. Dean rolled onto his elbow, pain shooting through his arm and dirt filling his lungs. It was so overbearing that he felt oxygen deprived. With his feet failing him, Dean tries to crawl away, but of course, that wouldn’t work, he was too fat and too weak.

“You can crawl all you want. Your fate remains the same, motherfucker.” Like the Hulk himself gripped his legs, Dean was dragged back across the ground, feet flapping and nails clawing at rocks and dirt. He could feel his skin splitting. With one struggling kick, his foot met the man’s face, bloodying his lip. No words were said then. His eyes were ice cold and demon like. Dean didn’t know what hit him, but those eyes made him get on his feet, and he ran into the abandoned building straight ahead. He didn’t hear the man’s footsteps, guessing that maybe he was too hurt to follow him and find him.

Little did Dean know his weapon of choice: a Kukri knife fell out of his back pocket. Erik has that very knife in his possession now, more than excited to use Dean’s weapon against him. This was going to be one hell of a bloody night.

——-

It was just too easy for him. He needed a challenge. That’s it...a challenge. Maybe a Russian who escaped prison and decided to go on a genocide killing spree. Or a calculated serial killer who played him at his own game. Dean was easy prey. They all had the same motive: hide in the most typical places, pray to themselves and breathe so loud the people down the road could hear, or worse, bleed out and leave a bloody trail. Dean’s wound was beginning to smell. Erik’s sense of smell when it came to infected, rotting, flesh was nearly non-existent. It didn’t bother him one bit.

All the lives he took when he killed in Afghanistan, Iraq, the States apart of JSOC and when he was an ex-assassin made it that way. The scars on his skin were there to prove it. Now, he did the kills without taking orders from no one.

“Dean...you fat ass motherfucker. Dirty, disgusting, sick, smelly ass, redneck, motherfucker.”

Erik drew in his bottom lip between his teeth, the sound of the leather gloves on his hand crunching from how tightly his fists were clenched.

“Why little Black and Latina girls, Dean? What’s so special about them? Is it the fact that they aren’t as privileged as your kind? The colonizers?”

Dean was so fucking stupid. How could someone go so long with precisely killing four little girls but hide where Erik could see him? In a dirty corner filled with old dusty crates and broken glass shards, Erik could see the silhouette of Dean Orrin. His body was practically leaning over from how weak he was. All that blood loss failed him. No energy, no will power, just dead weight.

Letting out a stressed sigh, Erik pocketed the Kukri, walking over to Dean. Picking him up by the back of his hoodie, hopefully choking him, he began to drag him across the dusty cobweb filled floor, startling him and causing him to scream.

“You a bitch, you know that? You kill little girls like you a man but wanna scream like a woman because you are about to die. I knew chicks more gangsta than you.”

Erik laughs hard, finally back in that hallway and headed towards his destination.

“Tell me,” Erik yanks him, hearing him choke up.

“Why little girls? Got raped when you were a kid? Touched your ex little daughter in her sleep and got a hard-on? What?!!!” Erik releases Dean, turning to yoke him up forcefully. Dean’s blurry and dizzy vision made Erik look like five Erik’s. He could still see the hard eyes though, they could never go forgotten.

“ANSWER. MY. FUCKING. QUESTION.”

Erik’s breathing was the only sound, Dean’s mind forcing him to speak but words couldn’t form. That pissed Erik off...oh...that made him mad. Erik’s eyes flickered a moment, before taking one hand to retrieve the Kukri, twirling it between his fingers, and ramming it into dean’s side, opening his gunshot wound further.

Dean’s screams were suspended in his throat, eyes watery and teeth grinding. His breath hit Erik’s nose causing him to drop him on the floor, back to dragging his lard ass leaving a bloody trail.

——

The old morgue was famous back in 95’ but it was closed due to concerns with keeping the dead cold until it was time for burial. It was gated off with grass growing so high gators could live here. No one dares to trespass, leaving it as a haunted destination to never visit. Erik had it soundproofed, and he fixed it up himself. He never used the morgue refrigerators, what was the point anyway? He didn’t care to slow up the decomposition phase. His job was to hunt, kill, and discard of the parts. Currently, in this fully double plastic-covered room, Erik had Dean on an operating table in the charnel house, head and feet restrained. He blinked up at the lights, failing to keep his eyes opened. Dean was already pale, now he looked almost chalky with skin leatherlike. Erik removed his suit jacket, hanging it neatly on a nearby coat rack. The sleeves to his white oxford shirt were rolled up to his elbows, surgical gloves on his hands and an entire surgical gown with goggles included to shield the blood splatter.

A medium force (velocity) impact spatter:

Produced with more energy or force than gravity.

The force of the impact causes the blood to break into smaller size splatters relative to the amount of force applied.

This type of splatter is usually seen in blunt force, stabbings, and secondary splatters.

Produced when the majority of larger drops of blood are broken into smaller spatters with diameters of 2-4 mm.

The force associated with this type of spatter is greater than 25 ft per second.

His first victim, Alejandra Lopez was just 4 years old. It was a rainy week in Miami; they called for thunderstorms around 90%. She was riding her little training wheel bike colored blue and pink down a small suburb in Little Havana. Her slicker hood was up, rain droplets shielding her vision but so what? she was on a mission. Her dad nicknamed her little trainer, speedy. Giggling, she made a sharp turn, only to fall off and in the gutter. She winced in pain slightly, but Alejandra was tough. Her mother was passed out drunk on the couch while her father was pulling doubles at the auto shop. Alejandra carefully lifted from the gutter, whipping off the mud from her slicker. As her doe grey eyes lifted, she came face to face with her murder. He struck her over the head with a lead pipe, watching as her tiny body fell to the concrete, cracking her skull further…

Erik couldn’t sleep after seeing that on the news.

So terrible.

The thought of that crossed his mind just now, causing him to pick up a broken lead pipe he found near a construction site on his way home from the beach. Twirling that lead pipe in hand, he turns to Dean, clearing his throat.

“You remember Alejandra? In Little Havana?”

Dean swallows spit, his eyes struggling to look to his right where Erik was standing.

“I-I-Yeah..yeah the little Mexican girl. I-I remember…” Dean began to cry.

“You remember how you used a pipe to crack her skull?” Erik’s grip on the pipe grew tight and painful.

“...yes…”

“How did that make you feel?”

“...good...but please...don’t…”

“There will be blood, Dean. And guess what? I got a lead pipe.”

Erik began to walk forward, pipe resting on his shoulder.

“WHO ARE YOU TO DECIDE MY FATE?!!! HUH??!!!!!!” Dean screamed at the top of his lungs, causing himself to cough up blood. He was going to die anyway, no use in screaming.

“I’m the Judge. Jury. And Executioner. Don’t fucking bark if you can’t bite.” He sounded baneful and destructive.

Everything went silent, that was until the pipe broke the wind from how forceful Erik’s blow was. Erik aimed that pipe to Dean’s head, the sound of his temporal bone splitting music to his ears. Dean shook, fingers twitching, and eyes wide with pain. His nose began to leak, eyes watering in agony. At this point, he could beg for instant death. Erik did damage for sure, his brain must be ricocheting in his skull right now.

An ugly laugh escaped Erik’s mouth, the sound of the pipe hitting plastic only audible to him since Dean’s hearing was no more.

“I-I-I w-won’t Let you-you…” Dean chokes on blood. His heart rate began to slow further.

“The question isn’t who’s going to let me. It’s who’s going to stop me?” Erik took this as an opportunity to pull out his Kukri. Yes, his now.

“I can imagine how many times you wipe this clean. Fucking sick...and I thought my traumatic past was bad? I can’t imagine yours…”

Holding the knife firm, Erik brought it to Dean’s right hand, cutting it off cleanly. At this point, Dean couldn’t even scream. He was already dying, all he could do was wither in pain. Cutting the hands of a pedophile. You touch young girls and murder them, you get your hands amputated. His dick getting cut off sounded great but Erik didn’t even want to SEE IT. Without saying another word, his other hand was amputated. The blood splatter Erik knew well stained the plastic.

With a clenched jaw and savage eyes, Erik takes Dean by his greasy head, bringing that Kukri to his throat.

“This is for Samara, and all the other little girls you killed. They have no fucking life, now you won’t.”

Erik twirled that knife, swiping across Dean’s neck quickly, watching the blood splatter briefly before slowing to a drip. The life could be seen leaving Dean Orrin’s eyes under those morgue lights.

——-

First off, it’s important to understand what dead bodies are like. They’re very heavy, they absolutely stink, they attract flies and vermin practically from the word go, they release a lot of unpleasant substances, they bloat and they can even explode. Draining the fluids as quickly as possible and mixing them with a lot of bleach before flushing them would prevent this.

Should the body be found, you need to make it as difficult as possible to identify. This means destroying the teeth, finger, and toe prints, and the DNA. The first two are easy, the last one is more tricky. Erik wasn’t a forensic scientist, so he just settled for the teeth and toes. Living in Miami, water was an easy source to dump bodies. Erik used to settle for burying them, but that took hours and a lot of footprints left behind. To make his life easier, he simply dumped the bodies far out in the ocean while taking a routine route on his boat. Applying weights to the feet and covering them with heavy duty body bags always helped him out. This was the only way he could dispose of the evidence before the police got wind of it, which they never did.

Erik wasn’t a wanted man, at least, not as Erik Stevens. When he was Killmonger, international police wanted his neck. Killmonger came out to play when he took the lives of vermin to satisfy his needs, but he went away when he did his daily routines. Believe it or not, Erik had friends, a foster sister, and maybe a possible girlfriend. It was odd, Erik considered himself to be asexual. He didn’t find romantic attraction or love for a woman. It never interested him in having a romantic relationship with a woman. He had sex, though it was more so because he could not because he wanted to. Being asexual had nothing to do with his dick, it was about the sexual and romantic attraction that didn’t spark his interest. It’s not like he didn’t try. There were days where he wanted that, other days he just didn’t and they were most days. Erik was attractive, rough around the edges, a lady killer without even trying. He needed to move on, make it look normal, kill those who deserved it in secret. These were the words of his late foster father who was a fireman.

Erik…

He could hear his father's voice in his head.

Be strong, Erik. Remember, use your disorder for the greater good. Kill those who deserve to be punished...

With a heavy sigh and all his upper arm strength, Erik heaved Dean Orrin’s body over the railing of his boat and into the ocean water. So long Dean Orrin. The pedophile. The abuser. The murderer. Erik took out the tiny glass vial of his horrid blood, twirling it in hand before pocketing it once more, turning to grab up his Hennessy.

“Ah, they playing Wu-Tang tonight,” he smiles as if it were any other evening, sitting back on his suede all-white sofa with his dress shoe covered feet resting on the fancy glass table.

Time to sleep on the water again.

@goddessofthundathighs @hearteyes-for-killmonger @panthergoddessbast @blowmymbackout @chaneajoyyy @bartierbakarimobisson @madamslayyy

————-