poison - driller killer / male reader
[a/n] based on this song! All the shit that you came here for starts at paragraph 3
[warnings] ohohohoho- smut, blood play, light choking, swearing, obv,,,and uh,,,anal??? teasing, too
What was supposed to be a beach day in your parents’ beach house lead to the murder of your girlfriend and three best friends. Eventually, you were the last one left and you knew it wasn’t long before you’d be sent to go meet your maker. Hiding under a bed, armed with a knife, you tried your hardest to stifle your cries. Keyword tried.
Before you knew it, you were being dragged by your feet by a tall man who you presumed to be the killer, based on all the blood on his clothes. He’d pulled you up against a wall while you were too busy looking at his- drilltaur? “Well, I guess you’re the last one, eh?” His voice was surprisingly smooth, his lips pointing to a wicked grin. He subtly showed off his guitar/drill combo weapon, using one hand to flash it beside him, with one knee between your thighs keeping you hoisted above him, and on the wall. You pushed the blade in your hands between your back and the wall, keeping it tucked for a surprise attack. You felt like crying, but wouldn’t that be pathetic? Not as pathetic as your voice. “W-Who are you?” Your voice was quivering more than anticipated, but it wasn’t really something you could control.
“I’m about to send you to the good lord up above-” a chuckle separated his sentence. “-and you wanna know who the fuck I am?” He took off his sunglasses, revealing eyeliner-stained eyes. While he went on a rant about how great he was, you kicked the guitar out of his hands and out of reach, hopping off his knee and picking up your knife. “D-Don’t fucking move, dick bag,” You could sense annoyance in his eyes. Something else lingered in the room, something you couldn’t quit but your finger on.
Before you could do anything, he snatched the knife from your hands, chasing you up on a counter top to where you where on your back, him straddling you. The knife slowly edged closer and closer to your collar bones until the cool metal finally cut you. He laughed at you wincing in pain. “Don’t even try anything, shitlips. You’re my fuckin’ ragdoll as long as I’m here” The bleeding started to leak faster, his finger picking up the blood and sucking it off his fingers while staring at you dead in the eyes. Your face could hide it, but your body couldn’t- you were aroused, he sat down, his ass now directly on your crotch. “Are you fuckin’ kidding me? I’m about to kill you, and you get hard?” You stammered, trying to find an explanation, especially since you weren't really aware that you swung that way. A smirk crept upon his face. “Y’know what? I can help you with that.” His tone was much softer than before, as he leapt off of you, and began to unbuckle your belt. As much as you didn’t want to admit it, you really really liked where this was going, and hoped he didn’t chop your dick off. Luckily that is not what happened, and you found out what else was lingering, as you’d finally been able to put your finger on it- sexual tension.
His hand started rubbing your length through your underwear, snickering as he heard your soft whimpers, begging for more without words. You clenched your eyes shut and hoped for the best when you heard him unzip his leather pants. Rough hands pulled what was left of cloth on your body, impatiently yanking your underwear down and your shirt up. You could feel his lips on your neck, leaving what you knew would be hickeys. A groan of pleasure escaped your lips as he left small cuts on your neck area- not enough to be fatal, but just enough to make it hurt. With every cut came his tongue to lick up the mess he made of your body. Once satisfied, he threw the knife, somewhere, anywhere, so he could lightly choke you as he kissed your lips. He had a metallic taste in his mouth. He had his other hand on your cock- slowly jerking up and down, up and down, teasing you until you desperately grinded against his palm. You felt something else, too. His dick was pressing against your thigh, and you heard your possible-killer-turned-fucker ask if he could fuck you. You, for the purposes of writing an entertaining story, said yes. Well, you meant to say yes anyways, but it came out more like a whiny moan. He flashed a devious smile and entered you without warning. Bottom line, his dick was almost too big for you and you weren’t too sure if it felt painful or good- but either way you couldn’t get enough of it. His hips began to move in an out-of-sync rhythm, sometimes going faster and other times slower. He was rubbing the head of your cock, the other tightening his grasp on your neck. His hot breath was up against your ear, whispering nothing but pure filth, and you swore you could practically hear his smirk.
“Who do you fuckin’ belong to?”
“I- Holy fuck, SHIT, I-I’m yours.”
His hips started pounding harder and harder, his mouth leaving nips and bites. You could sense yourself begin to unwind and he could tell, immediately stopping all movement. He stared down at your dick, and began pumping with agonizing slowness. You searched his face for any emotion and found none.
“You’re such a good whore, I might just let you cum.”
You knew what you had to do. All that you could do, anyways, which was to beg for release, and every plead you made, every whimper and moan that escaped your mouth was like music to his ears.
So he pounded faster, since you were so good for him.
You felt his pace slow, and his whispering become more incoherent. With one last thrust, you felt his seed fill you up. That’s what sent you over the edge. Running your hands through his messy quiff, you felt your own cum spill all over you, some of it getting it on the mystery man as he lied on top of you, whispering between scattered kisses about how good you were, how nice you felt, and how pretty you looked with his cum leaking out of your asshole. With his head temporarily resting in the crook of your neck, you muttered something in his ear, your voice raspy.
“Thanks for not killing me.”