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The sun set on what's been as chaotic of a day as what can be expected from the Kid Pirates. The rip-roaring, blundering blastfire that is Captain Kid made sure everyone in the four seas paid attention to him. The shadow he cast spread over the crew and victim alike. In it was a comfortable place for Killer, who's happy to blend in. And today, like any other day keeping up with Kid's antics, was completely draining.
With his social battery running on empty, Killer makes his way to the one place he can find sanctuary- the kitchen. He finds you there warming up a kettle and fixing your makeup at the counter.
The ceramic kettle whistles and you get up from the wood bench honored with the task of supporting your form. Killer wonders if he's the only one admiring the glossy shine on your lips before you snap your mirror closed. Your cat like stretch reaches up in the dark wood cabinets for a mug and set it down on the matching countertop with a satisfying clunk.
The smell of- what must be your favorite tea, swirls around as steam billows in your face as you pour the kettle, the scent creeping through the holes of his mask. Warmth surrounds your frame as Killer reaches over you, heavy fingers wrapping around a larger mug to bring it down next to yours. The place where it belongs- at least if he had things his way.
"You want some tea?" It's another shot at trying to see behind that blue and white striped mask. He'd rather sip the hot liquid through a straw, sitting stoic and still as it scalded his insides.
In the silence, you search the holes in his mask where you think his eyes would be. The sharp glare in your pupils slices him in half, like you could read his every thought without needing to see his expression.
Killer nods, and gestures his chin at the kettle behind you. It interupts your impolite investigation and you turn around to pull out the box containing the crew's collection of tea.
"Same kind?"
"Yeah," Killer responds right before a high pitched ring whistles in his ear.
"I didn't even tell you what kind it was-"
Red lighting flashes in his vision. The kettle cracks and explodes in the middle of your reply. With instinctual, agile speed, Killer man-handles you around the waist and rips you away from the counter top as it's flooding with boiling water. Flying shards of ceramic bouncing off your armament haki.
He moved so swiftly that he pressed your body flush against his torso, making the curve of your ass hug his cock. A shallow gasp escapes from his throat, he could almost taste the way your skin seared him where your bodies met.
"Shit," you breath out, and the resulting shiver rolls down your body and pushes your back further into him. He fights the groan tingling on his tongue when his cock twitches with a cyclone of interest and need.
He unhooked his hand from your waist but you flattened your palm on top of it and pressed back down, returning contact of his hand on your body. You twisted around, he bit back a sigh as you slowly turned to face him, a blush burning your ears. You reach up to press your palm against his collar bone, opening yourself up to him.
Your lips lay open, the bright pink flesh inside of your mouth calling out to him. A scratch from the back of his throat dared him to answer. Your hand traveled as far up his neck as you could reach, thankfully not close enough to go anywhere he...can't allow.
It doesn't stop you from trying to pull him down, which he resists, his shoulders staying stiff against where you're tugging at his neck. You take the hint and back off, releasing your warm, wonderful hands from him and slither out from beneath him. Light blanketing your form now that he wasn't dimming it. He's quiet, but only to give you the grace to reject him on your terms first.
But you don't, only shifting around purposefully to find a towel and start cleaning the mess left on the counter by the shattered kettle. Somewhere among the pieces lay what could be, but definitely shouldn't.
"A shame about the that," you pout dumping out your mug, shifting your weight and making your hips sway.
"Hm, one less thing to clean I guess" he says anything to keep from falling under the spell your hips are spinning. The hem of your jeans showing the curve of your hips as you bend over the counter.
The giggle bubbling up in response to Killer's comment makes his stomach tighten, and then the realization hits- he's so fucked.
You'd taken his rejection on the chin, and didn't let it stop you from finding happy little accidents where only Killer is there to save you. Pulling you away from a canon catching fire. Pushing you from the pathway of a runaway rope. Catching you when you trip and fall down the stairs.
Each touch put him in the way of your infectious desire, setting the growing need in his belly aflame. Shame did nothing to temper the hunger lit by that fire. The game of push and pull you two were playing appealed too much to his bloodthirsty, predatory nature. And one stormy evening he was at his wit's end.
Thunder boomed over pouring rain, drenching the deck and everyone on it. You were fighting the ropes of the main sail that had ripped open in the wind torrent. Most of the crew had run below deck, having already secured their part of the ship and seeking a dark, warm place to lay low.
Killer knew better than to assume a life or death situation was taken care of without seeing it with his own eyes. And if didn't he step behind you, arms wrapped around you and pulling the sail back to it's tightly wrapped assignment, it could be the end of everyone- the hunger never satiated.
He feels you squirming beneath him, and regardless of your intention it was driving him beyond the edge of sanity. Within the fog of hot breath he whisks you away from the downpour to the corner of the galley. He'd expected the act of fighting, but with no one else around, you didn't bother.
Instead you clung to Killer's arms, shivering and damp. You didn't fight him as he stroked his hand up your thigh, the rain doing nothing to prune the skin beneath the hemline of your shorts. You weren't dry, but you weren't wet from the rainwater.
A sweet sigh croons in his ear when he slips two fingers along the plush lips of your entrance. He braves the other hand grasping your jaw and pets your cheek with his thumb. Your face is as soft as the place between your legs, loving his affection as he starts to slide his fingers between your folds.
"Killer, wait," you whine as he finds your hot, wet center.
He hesitates, but plunges two fingers up inside of you before you can get the request out of your mouth. The only thing it needs to do is sing each moan his fingers can find in the purchase of your pussy.
"I- I-- god please I want-," you moaned softly into his chest.
He's going to give you pleasure, he's going to give you exactly what his wretched, brutish body can only do to a crazy woman like you. The velvet walls of your pussy caress and pull his fingers in deep. Greedy to take from him more than he even has to give when his knuckles rock against your entrace. His fingertips finding the burning caldera at your core. And he's going to give you that orgasm building in his hand. Your begging moans rattling against metal.
But he won't take his mask off to kiss you.
Lightning strikes and the light flashes over the intoxicating lower case o shape your mouth makes as you come. Your walls twist and shout in his hand, your heat pooling in his palm and dribbling down his wrist. When your chest slows it's heaving, he pulls his hand away, hovering it over his mask. Forgetting any human decency, he wipes it long the front of his mask. His tongue darts out to where your fluids seep in through the holes, desperate for that tangy, rich taste of your pussy. When he can only taste cold metal against his tongue, he can feel his cock begging to try you on too.
A scoff breaks him from the spell and he looks up quick enough to catch the storm blackening your stare. His heart thunders against his ribcage, and he shudders, cottonfuzz tangling in his mouth. Thickening dryness preventing him from answering your rising disdain.
You push him off and flee the room. If those little diamonds in the corner of your eye were indeed tears, then he wasn't sure he'd change anything from what just went down.
The Victoria Punk finally docks at a large trading city a few days later. Killer's been antsy to restock some of the more unsual and hard-to-find ingrediants in the kitchen. But also because he (everyone really) needed a repreive from your fuming, volcanic rage.
Over the last couple of days, running in to you was worse than falling face first into a cactus cluster. Even Wire and Kid weren't fucking with you in this state. One too-long glance or overly wordy conversation made you spit bile on the unsuspecting victim.
What was mortifying to Killer is how this was the one time every crew member of the Kid pirates shared a fucking brain cell. Some asked him delicately about you, others would make that knowing stare in his direction, and Kid just outright asked him what the fuck he'd done to piss you off. And asked way too many questions about how well Killer's cock worked.
"Shut the fuck up, Kid...please!" He growled in response to that last question.
He hears a snort from across the galley- and of course it's yours as you sashay through the door. He knows Kid can see the veins scouring his neck, and the red-headed bastard grins at him.
"Ya want me to throw her in the brig? Let'cha cut something off?" He asks. You knew not to so much as look at Killer funny. Under different circumstances that snort would have been taken as a direct challenge to his authority. Though it was clear you were aiming to undermine his feelings instead.
"She's just got to let off some steam," Killer replies.
"Then what the fuck were you doing the other night?!" Kid exclaims, his hands thrown up in exasperation.
Killer cringed a little, biting back a nervous laugh at being found out. Not that he'd tried to silence your moans when he'd had his way with you. The rush of it all robbing him of any better sense to mind your privacy. Nor your desire to see the look on his face as he pleasured you.
He dodged Kid's metal hand as he swiped it upwards, his teeth gritting as he spat, "knock it off. Skip down horny-memory lane in town, not next to me, ya creep." Kid wrenches himself from the table. "Don't forget the show tonight."
With way too many feelings whirling around his mind all at once, and too fast pin any one of them down, Killer looked forward to take it out on some poor sons of bitches in the pit tonight. He nodded at Kid before leaving the room himself. Not bothering to move out of the way of the person coming down the hall, and plowing into you.
"Fucking ass-" You looked up to him, having taken a few stumbling steps back. Then you tossed your hair from your face, huffed, and walked away and around the corner.
He's not even double fucked at this point. More like triple fucked.
Low, screeching, heavy guitar tone screamed against the wall of bodies in the dark room. The heat of so many people pressed was as oppressive as the tight space thanks to low ceiings and dim lights. Killer spotted you nursing a glass of whiskey. You were trying to blend in with the crowd while watching the band on stage play, but a young, skinny dude shoved you out of his way to join Kid and Killer in the pit. In his haste, the kid had pushed you into another guy, his beer spilling all over you.
"Dumb slut, watch where you're going!" The guy tossed the now-empty cup at you, and you swung an open hand out to claw at him.
"The fuck you calling me a slut for?!" Your hand connected and gashed the dude's upper arm he'd thrown out to defend himself with.
Another man grabbed you around the waist and pulled you away from the guy.
"Ya see that shit?" Kid asked but by the time he asked, Killer was already making a b-line across the mosh pit.
Killer clamped a large hand down on the man's shoulder and ripped you from his hold and held you up as you found your footing. A security guard shone a flashlight at the lot of you and shouted, "Take this shit outside!"
"Gladly," was all Killer said as he let the security guard push the other men outside despite their protests, crying out that you'd started it and they were just defending themselves.
"Where do you think you're going?" One of them reaches back and tries to grab you by the hair. Killers wraps his hand around the guy's wrist and crushes it, flexing his arm and breaking the poor sod's wrist in his vice grip.
"Fuck you, freak! White knighting some whore-" before he can say anything else, Kid punched him in the jaw with a heavy metal fist. Blood and teeth shooting out from his swelling mouth.
"Only freaks I see here are the one's harassin' girls for no reason," Kid grin's cheekily, proud of himself and more than happy to justify his taste for violence.
Stupidly, the other guy chimes in, "why doesn't your friend take off his mask and we'll see who the real freak is, huh?"
Kid stood by and watched Killer dent both of their heads in the brick wall, more blood pouring down their faces. Enough so to match the beer they'd soaked you with. They continued beating down on the guys within an inch of their lives- death was too good for anyone disrespecting the Kid Pirates.
When he and Kid go back inside he senses you leave, expecting you to come back inside for the rest of the show but you don't. Dread floods his mind. He needs to know where you are, and that you're alright.
He goes to the ship panicing, and senses you're there and rushes through the door to your cabin.
You don't even bother to look at him, your side turned to the door as you were changing out of your soiled clothes, standing in your black bra and panties.
"You've got 2 seconds to get the fuck out of here before I twist your head off."
The door closes and locks behind him and he hisses under heavy breath while striding toward you, "fuck, I needed to know you're OK, OK?" You balk at him when he reaches for you carefully, so he forces you into his arms and holds you against his body.
"I'm fine. I don't need you looking after me. Let go, Killer." You say between gritted teeth and try to push yourself from him but he doesn't let you get away. You duck under his arms, but he's faster and scoops you off your feet and slams your back into the wall.
His growls echo off the walls of his mask, "I don't know why you keep running from me when you want me." Your ferocious heartbeat betrayed the authority in your aura and he wasn't going to back away now that he has you cornered.
"I'm serious, Killer, let me go!" With your arms free you beat harder on his chest, metallic armament haki screeching from your fists bashing him. You lift a clawed hand and he's left with a choice between dropping you to block the blow or letting you swipe down onto his head. He turns his head fast enough to dodge your downswing, but catches the full weight of it when you back hand him and a whoosh of air hits his face.
He hears you gasp and it's his first indication of what just happened. Then, it's the distinct hollow clunk of his helmet hitting the floor. Blood feels like it's rushing in all directions, his face growing hot but he can't deny the tightening, gut-wrenching ache knocking from the inside of his cock and balls.
You blink rapidly, your hand frozen still hanging in the air as the armament haki dissipates. Now he's taking note of the pain wracking his temple as he sees his reflection in your wide, watery eyes.
"Jesus fucking christ Killer- I'm sorry about the mask!" You pause, blinking back tears and he can only hold his breath. "But- you're worried what people think? With a mug like that?" Some mix of frustration, fear, and indignation twists the face you're making at him before you bark a laugh. He fights back the tears trying to well up. "Fucking lady killer looks! Girls dropped dead back home, huh?" You reach for his face and he doesn't stop it. He can't even move.
You smooth your palms over his cheeks and brush away his tears with delicate thumbs, the gesture crashing against the wave of anxiety he's about to drown in. "Hey Killer-baby don't-" He's done worrying, pining, pacing back and forth in his mind about what to do with his growing fixation that takes your form. Whatever fears you'd forcefully brushed aside only left room for starving, monstrous lust to take over his will- and he acts on it as he crushes his lips against yours.
He's rewarded with a breathy moan and you wrap your legs around him, hands gripping his face and pushing back into his blood soaked hair. You let him shove his tongue in your mouth and meet him with your own to swirl around each other. Spit smears at the corners of his mouth as the kiss grows sloppy. His desire for you now going unchallenged by his fears or your pride.
He steps away from the wall, taking you with him to collapse onto your bed, his body closing off the rest of the world. His shirt tears, your hands clawing his back as he grinds his hips into your center. You never closed your eyes, and neither did he- entranced by the fury roiling in your eyes. Your nails tear the flesh of his shoulders, he moans and wraps a hand around your jaw, a reminder of how much his size overshadows yours. Pushing your face to the side, he trails kisses along your cheek to your temple, purple lipstick claiming your skin as his lips hover above the shell of your ear.
For a moment he can only breath heavily while he finds new plans for you. Shaky and nervous like trapped prey, your hands explore his body, searching for a way to control this. Your touch is so smooth and warm, he lets your hands crawl under the waist band of his jeans to squeeze his cock, hurrying him along.
"You're the whole package, aren't you baby?" You crow into his neck. "Strong, handsome, with a big cock. Give it to me, Killer-baby." Your sloppy praise left pin pricks at the back of his throat and it made him grind his teeth.
"Enough," he squeezes your jaw open and drives two fingers between your exposed lips. Muffled squeels of surprise escape your mouth while his other hand makes quick work of unclasping your bra, your tongue caressing his fingers as he's pulling it, and then your panties, off.
He tears the rest of his shirt from his chest and kicks off his boots, and removes the rest of his clothes before climbing up onto your bed. Your wet eyes measured him, weighed him out like he's freshly skinned. Spreading your legs, he fires up his hunger as the gesture commands to be served for your self satisfied lust. He raises his chin and straightens his back, granting you a few more moments to stare.
But he wasn't going to let you have this for free. He slides his fingers from your mouth and wipes your spit along the length of his cock before digging them into your hips and flipping you over on all fours.
His voice drips with heat as he asks, "you got what you wanted from me, (Y/N), don't you think it's fair I get what I want?" He slaps his cock on your ass to emphasize his point.
"Yes, Killer-baby!"
"Don't think you'll be calling me 'baby' soon," he slowly slots himself between your legs, lifting your hips up to line up with his, and slides his cock inside you. A low moan escapes you when your ass meets his pelvis, and then you let out a high cry when he starts riding the seat of your ass like a charging stallion.
His thighs slam into the back of your legs, using his cock to whip the walls inside you, softening, bruising, and molding your pussy into shape just for him. Your hands turn white bracing against the mattress to keep from slamming into it head first with every thrust. Your breath seems caught in your throat, not so much moaning as you are panting and yowling like a bitch in heat from his brutal strokes. The callouses on his fingertips snag on your unfairly plush hips as he drags his clawed hands down. The harsh scratches make you yelp and glare back at the red lines scored across your backside, and then at him.
He catches the way your eyes absorb the image of his body, his flushed face, his hair falling everywhere. A feral groan flares up from the back of his throat as he glares back at you, and he snatches your wrists. You bellow out your cries as he robs you of the last ounce of control, yanking your arms behind your back and using them to gain more leverage to fuck up into you.
Don't you dare look at me, he thinks. His pleasure stagnated at a plateau, addicted to the way your pussy clamped tight around him. But his stamina is quickly draining and he's fighting to stay focused on just fucking you, to take his pleasure from you and make you like it. To keep you bent over and mewling at his mercy.
It's just not how he really feels, so he lets out a frustrated sigh, slows his pace, and loosens his grip on your arms letting you reclaim some ground. You let out little whiny moans as he grinds his hips into your ass while he makes up his mind.
You infuriate him. What was the big deal with seeing his face anyway? It's not like you were looking at him now and judging by the way you'd bit your lip, face flushed, cried out for him- he was fucking you so, so good. But he'd have to find certainty, and he needed to do this while your walls were knocked down.
He pulls out, a chill climbing up his cock from your slick glistening off him. He pulls on your shoulder to flip you over facing him. You lock eyes with him, and he hooks an arm under your knee and pulls you back onto his cock. Watching the way your jaw tightens and lips round the moan flying from your mouth as he drives himself into you over and over.
You're folded open for him, and he reaches for your clit, rubbing vicious swipes over it back and forth making you wail. Fresh tears stream down your face and he can feel his throat squeeze shut. You wanted to piss him off, so you'll pay your penance. Even if your sobs pain him, it's a sickly satisfying hurt.
"Killer!" You shriek and your walls try to close shut around his cock, the rumbling quake climbing up his body and he grits his teeth, holding back from cumming too.
But you still had a lot to make up for, and he's not done with you. He doesn't relent despite his arm growing stiff from rubbing your clit so hard and fast.
"Killer please! Fuck, it's too much!" Your cries breeze past him like chimes in his ear. And he only frowns in response, his stare hardening. You claw at his wrist and he takes both of them and presses your hands flat against your belly.
"You can feel it, can't you?" He'd give you mercy long enough to make a point, so he pulled his hand away from your clit. With a firm thrust, his hips locked into yours and he pressed your hands down to feel the curve where his cock bulged from inside you.
"Mhm," you mewl weakly, eyes blood shot, flooded with tears, and nodding your head.
It's terrible, but you looked so pretty like this. A dew of sweat shining on your skin, highlighting each scar and brightening your tattoos. The blood rushing to your face down to your tits that bounced with each thrust of his hips. The tears streaming down your cheeks only made you more appealing.
"That's for you, (Y/N)." He rams himself into you, an itching numbness twisted in a spiral up his cock and to his insides. "You fucking do this to me." No one had taken over his mind, no one was allowed so much as a passing thought from him and yet you took residence in his head like an infestation. There's nothing he can do but give in to that unbearable need for you. How else is he supposed to go on?
He went back to rubbing fast circles on your clit and making you scream his name. Soon enough your pussy clamped down on his cock and he bit down on his lip too fast and too hard, blood bursting between his teeth and dribbling down his chin, a wet stain spreading in his goatee. Your pussy keeps quaking around him and you squirt, the liquid splashing on his fingers and dripping down where your hips met. Killer pulls the sloppy mess to his mouth, the coppery sharpness of his blood mixed with the tangy, sour taste of you melting on his tongue.
The orgasm comes rumbling through him before he can catch it, squeezing every muscle in his center. Howling moans escape from his throat, spraying blood and spit on you and your bed as he erupts inside of you. The feeling of his seed spilling and flooding your pussy blanking his conscious until the waves of white hot pleasure cease.
There's no chance he's gonna let you catch your breath, or think he's close to done. So he swoops down and shoves his face between your legs. His hands force your thighs apart as his lips latch onto the drenched lips between your legs. The smallest amount of pain tears at his scalp where you're pulling his hair. Chancing a glimpse of your face long enough to see fresh tears streaming down your flushed cheeks, but he relishes in your sobs of oversensitive pleasure.
A river of body fluids ran down his tongue. The delicious flavor of your release mixed with his cum and blood making you taste like you belong to him now.
He growls, willing his voice to travel deep into your cunt and announce his claim over your body. Your perfectly soft, slick, wet heat matched exactly what was missing from his life. Fucking you was no less grand than the sky revealing in its kiss on the horizon.
From that day on, he trailed you like a shadow. A good thing he wore a mask so the crew didn't see his tongue drag on the ground when he followed you behind closed doors.