(One Piece) Book of Oneshots and Such

Bonehead

(Stalker! Kidd X Serial Killer! Reader) They say birds of a feather flock together. In your case however, we have predacious boneheads, and instead of flocking together you're simply magnetized to one another.

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"What do we have ourselves today, sweets?" The heavily clothed lad slowly leaned forwards from the shadows and peered through the binoculars.

The target of his attention was the insides of one smashed in window of a long dilapidated warehouse, or better yet, the person seen inside the warehouse.

This time it was a lawyer who just so happened to have been down on their luck tonight, somehow they got shitfaced after one drink, coincidentally lost their phone along their trek home, and inevitably got coaxed here by a kindly woman, as they all did.

You chose to be swift this time around, instead of just playing the usual game he's come to learn from you, he watched as you just outright choked him out.

Probably in a sour mood then, most likely had something to do with your favorite dine-in closing down for the week.

On second thought, you weren't that petty, or let your emotions fester for long, it had to have been something else, something he was forgetting.

"Aw baby, what's got you in such a bad mood?" He winced on your behalf as you continued to brutalize the body in a fit, whether it was of bloodlust, frustration, or a mix of both, he couldn't discern from this distance.

Damn, he knew he should have brought the night vision goggles, he was missing all of your glorious expressions, you were most beautiful during the kill, nothing could compete with the shine in those eyes upon greeting fresh blood.

"Goddammit baby, you're such a tease" sometimes he swore you knew he was there, there was no way you just happened to have constantly kept your face angled away from where his camera could catch it.

Though, he doubted he'd still be alive if that was the case.

A jump of adrenaline bolted through Kidd's veins at the sight of you pulling out your signature fireplace-poker and he had to reprimand himself for letting out an urgent moan.

With flushed cheeks and heavy breath, he devoured the scene greedily, allowing the camera in his hands to go off uncontrollably, knowing all too well that he would be lovingly, obsessively getting off to each individual image taken afterwards.

With the grace of a well trained butcher, you meticulously peeled away the skin in thin rivulets, like a woodcutter sculpting a masterpiece from a hunk of tree.

After the skin came the tissue, then came the fat, and finally the bone slowly came to sight.

By the time the sky was weening a rich indigo, you had a clean skull in your lap, every strand of muscle and tissue having been scraped off, and all the innards been removed through careful touch.

Kidd wasn't embarrassed to say that the first time he saw this ritual of yours, he creamed himself in his pants like an inexperienced teenager with a wet dream, only this dream was set in reality and set only a few meters away from him.

The way you held the skull once it was complete, sometimes you'd stroke it like a cat, other times you'd cup them to your breast, and Kidd never felt so goddamn jealous of a dead man in his life.

He swore that if you didn't do that to his skull when he died, he didn't want it.

Of course, all fun eventually comes to an end, and with the dawn, you neatly arranged your mess in an appropriate position for the police before slipping out of the building.