Killmonger's One-Shot Collection

Killing Booth

I'll be updating this one under this chapter instead of making multiple. I'll just be copy and pasting adding onto what's here.
This is for my twin  @eriknutinthispoosy

Part 1: Shrimp Allergy

N'Jobu was well traveled. He’d been to many unique places and met many interesting people during his life. The stories were always different. He’d taken a young Erik with him on more than a few occasions and one of Erik’s favorite places to travel with his father was to the fair grounds in New Orleans. Not many people knew about them. They were on a private piece of land owned by the Glampions, a black family rumored to be descended from Marie Laveau herself. He remembered the beignets and the cream puff eating contests. The music and the random attractions he’d run to and through with the other kids. The fun house with the crazy mirrors, the rides, the horse rides, the magician, and the fortune teller. He remembered it so well that nostalgia carried him south all the way to Louisiana just to revisit his past.

It wasn’t as he remembered. He bypassed all the No Trespassing signs to find that the fair was deserted. It had become one of those creepy, abandoned locations and he wondered where the family had gone. Why had they deserted the area and left the fair in squalor? He strolled through the area. There was the rollercoaster, but it was rusted and unsafe to attempt to climb or mess with. If he were to restore the place, he could see himself fixing it. But that wasn’t why he’d come. Passing the funhouse and the empty stands, he saw the Kissing Booth. He was too young to be interested as a child visiting, but now.. he could do some damage in a kissing booth. He noticed the S’s had been graffitied into L’s and he huffed, humored. Kids.

“I guess you don’t read signs,” a jazzy voice rang from inside of the tent. He opened the curtain to find a curvy, Godiva brown woman with waist length faux locs and deep red lipstick. She sat at a wooden table the size of a card table. Her feet were bare. Her eyes were wide and strong. Her off white dress went almost to her ankles and she was mixing an herbal substance with a mortar and pestle.

“I read signs.. and I ignore them,” he said moving inside slowly to sit in the chair across from the haunting woman.

“Obviously,” she mumbled with a slight eyeroll, “Why are you here? What are you searching for?”

“Some tie to my past,” he muttered watching her smooth hands move. The motion relaxed him and he felt his shoulders drop as he slouched into the seat. “My father used to bring me here when I was young. He knew the family.” Her long nails were painted black and the smell of the herbs was so soothing that his eyelids began to droop.

“You found your way back,” she spoke in a gentle, soulful rasp that lulled him out of consciousness. “Erik Stevens,” she whispered watching the sleeping man. “How dare you not recognize me..”

—

“No, China, get off me. I don’t feel like it,” he groaned, picking his girl up off of him. She wasn’t slick, slipping her hand up his shirt and rubbing his scars. The next thing she would do was put her hand in his shorts. Like clockwork, he called it. “I’m a go to the gym, it’s leg day,” he said jumping up and kissing her on top of the head. She pouted, attempting to pull him back down with her, but he gently pulled her hands away and made his swift exit.

With a hard dick, he knocked on Khaliah’s door and she greeted him eagerly in a red chiffon robe and lace lingerie. Her skin glowed and she smelled like coconut. By the time he got home to his main girl, she was cooking dinner in the kitchen. He went to take a shower, refusing her hug with the excuse of not wanting to get sweat all over her. He scrubbed the sex off of his body before coming near his woman to hug her. She hugged him tightly inhaling his body wash and sighing contentedly when he did come near.

He sat at the table and as always China served him. She sat a tall glass of water along with a wide bowl of veggie soup and a thick steak cooked medium rare and a baked potato in front of him before fixing her own plate.

“Thanks baby,” he mumbled. He was starving after that workout. Spooning a greedy amount of soup into his mouth, he swallowed and felt a strong tickle in the back of his throat. Must be the spice, he thought. He sipped the water to calm it down as his mouth itched, but the more he ate, the more it felt like his throat was closing. He started to panic, turning his eyes to hers. “What you put in this,” he gasped hoarsely, grabbing his throat. He strained for breath. He needed an epi pen badly.

“Shrimp powder,” she said proudly without a pause in her eating. Of course, she knew he was deathly allergic to shrimp. “You know, you haven’t washed your gym clothes in a week and I know you’re too proud to walk around dingy and funky. You never wanna have sex anymore when I want it. You seem preoccupied most of the time.. It’s curious don’t you think?” As she watched him struggle to breathe, he slipped to the floor. “What’s even harder to fathom is how I do all of this wifely shit for you and you still cheat on me! I don’t get it! I do everything for you…” As she sighed, he passed out completely and she finished her food. When she finally checked his pulse, there was none.

—

“No.. n-no shrimp.. no shrimp,” Erik grumbled in his sleep. It was nearly unintelligible and the Godiva skinned woman chuckled silently watching his worried brows furrow in imagined pain. As far as she knew he didn’t even have a shellfish allergy or a girlfriend! There was no China or Khaliah. They were thoughts and ideas she’d planted into his head as she purposely invaded his sleep, crafting an interesting and humorous nightmare. He’d remember her soon enough. She’d plague him with crazy nightmares until it came back to him.