Killmonger's One-Shot Collection

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Inspired by the Deftones. You could probably guess that lol.

Warning/Disclaimer: This is a oneshot in which Erik is a JERK. He is a BAD PERSON in this. Not goals at all. This is DARK. (The Deftones are dark) Felt like writing it though so… enjoy? I’m only tagging certain ppl for this one because it’s not my typical Erik.

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Ever since his father was brutally murdered for his values, Erik had never been the same. The world had never been the same. The light had gone. Where teachings of morality, equality, and love used to frame his worldview and serve as a guide for daily living, there was only room now for power, control, and the animalistic desire to burn, destroy, and ruin anything that threatened to rise above him or make him feel.

Through a haze of darkness, Erik watched Her as she moved gracefully through the crowd, floating blissfully above it. Beyond it. In a pawn-ridden club with disposable buzzing flies high on their own drunkenness and debauchery, she was a butterfly. Fresh and undisturbed snow. Untouched, but not untaintable. No one was untaintable, not to him.

He envied her easy smile. He coveted, yet despised the pure joy she seemed to radiate because he could not feelit. Perhaps it was the luxury of innocence she was shrouded in like a virgin at the altar who’s yet to be defiled.. with blind faith that the world would continue rocking her to sleep in a bubble that knows no pain or solitude. She held a freedom that he didn’t hold and for that, he had to destroy her. He knew he was superior to her. He just had to prove it to her.

Pushing aside the women he’d just gifted with his time and attention, he made his way through the crowd and like a moth to a flame, her wide and innocent eyes found his. He smirked, holding her with a smoldering look as he disappeared to a VIP room wondering if she’d follow. Tick tock, he smiled, posted on the wall in the private room. Almost instantly she came wandering into the trap like a little lost mouse. She jumped when she noticed him standing there, watching her closely like a snake poised to strike. He didn’t care about her name or her life story, he only wanted one thing.. to destroy something pure and beautiful and babygirl was it.

She started to speak, but he shushed her gently, approaching slowly. He tilted her chin up and looked deeply into her expressive black orbs. There wasn’t an emotion she had that couldn’t be immediately read. She was entranced, her breathing unsteady, her lips parted and silently begging. Desire was written all over her and he counted it as worship. He brought his face closer to hers feeling her body heat spike as she flushed, brown skin heating. He touched her skin, feeling the change and stroking her smoothness. She melted into his hand, already purring like a content kitten. She was literally in the palm of his hand. He kissed her deeply watching her eyelids flutter as she surrendered to passion before he tugged up the hem of her short dress and grabbed a handful of her ass.

As if coming to her senses, she collected herself and pulled her dress back down, but when she tried to kiss him again, he declined. “Pull your dress up,” he murmured, watching her struggle within her mind on whether or not to obey. She looked suddenly uncomfortable. “I’ve never gone that far,” she admitted hesitantly, “Can we just makeout, for now,” she asked softly returning his hand to her waist. He pulled away, switching positions with her so that he could pin her to the wall. “I don’t want to wait,” he said kissing and sucking on her neck. “Admit you want me inside you right now.” His hands roamed her body over her clothes and went to her neck, squeezing gently. Gradually, he added pressure watching her facial expressions change. Part of him wanted to choke her out completely because he loved how her eyes searched his in fear, recognizing the power in his grasp.. but he released her and she gasped. “You liked that,” he smirked and it was more of a suggestion than an observation. “Yes,” she whispered reaching out for him. This time when he kissed her, he slipped his hand under her dress and into her panties where he began to stimulate her into being a bit more open to suggestion. “Say thank you,” he whispered in her ear as she panted. “Thank you,” she whispered, but he didn’t let her cum. “Pull your dress up,” he repeated and she did.. like any other common woman at the club would have. He smirked, a silent chuckle bursting through and she smiled, completely oblivious. There was nothing truly special about her, just as he’d suspected. How had she deluded herself into thinking that there was?