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thefanficmonster · 1 year

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It is I!! With (yet again) another small Idea I JUST had

Imagine this: Corpse x Apartment neighbor reader, where one night Corpse just Scream to the top of his lugs and then the reader screams back just for fun and then they get to know each other that way

I found it kinda funny honestly but that's like a rough idea of what I just thought let me know if ya liked it, k?

-with love Miss Kia

PS: Remember to take care even if it's just sleeping a bit or a glass of water okay?🥰 Whatever you do is good enough for us

PS2: Please tag me with it done, if you do make it ☺️

Hi dear! I know it's been literal months since you sent in this request but I've finally gotten around to it and I hope the final product makes the wait worth it. Love you with all my heart, Vy 💕

Pairing: Corpse Husband x Reader (Gender Neutral)

Warnings: Mentions of Anxiety and Stress, Swearing

Genre: Fluff, Humor, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: see request above

As you slump against the only standing piece of furniture in your otherwise barren living room, you can't help but sigh. Boxes surround you, silently judging you for leaving them in their status quo for yet another day. Postponing the inevitable unpacking awaiting you isn't much of a choice with your busy schedule but it is what it is and anything else would be making excuses. And there's nothing you hate more than making excuses.

You moved into this new apartment three days ago and yet you have only spent twelve hours in it total. Your stuff is still in boxes which you are quite frankly afraid to open, worried of all the broken crap you'll find because the movers you hired turned a blind eye to the large bold letters the word FRAGILE was written in.

Working two jobs is the only way you can pull through your final year of college but it's starting to feel like you're digging your mental health and sleep schedule a grave instead.

You wanna scream. Scream your fucking lungs out. But you can't with these shitty thin walls. You don't want your neighbors to think you're a nut-job. At least not already. Hell, they haven't even seen your face. You could be living next to Leonardo DiCaprio and have zero clue.

Ok, full disclosure, the building is filthy, so Leo is certainly not living next-door but a serial killer might be.

And speaking off....

Just as that ridiculous though passes your mind and causes you to chuckle, the aforementioned thin walls are straight up rattled by a guttural scream, the vibrations of which nearly bring the ceiling down on you.

You let several moments go by as the building settles in it's slot in the Earth following that vocal earthquake. You stare blankly at the wall behind which the scream emanated from, the wall separating you from your neighbor.

That serial killer thing seems to check out, you think to yourself as your loopy, exhausted brain hits the wrong instruction button, sending you in a fit of quiet giggles.

They can't think I'm a loose canon if they're just as bad, can they?

You decide they can't and go on and rip your friendly neighbor a new one. A scream much stronger, louder and longer that simultaneously establishes your dominance as well as deflates the tension that had built up in your chest.

It's the relief you've needed for a while now.

Similar silence follows your scream, leaving you to catch your breath, head tilted back with peace you haven't felt since you decided to move.

At least until there's a knock at your door.

"Hey, um, you good in there?"

The knock maybe put you on edge, but the voice is what seriously caught you off-guard. In all honesty, it intrigued you more than you'd like to admit. Not enough to get you to open the door, but enough to get you up from the couch and get you to approach the door at least a little.

"You're one to talk. You started the chain, pal." You retort without a second's hesitation which probably should have been considered, with the whole serial killer theory and all.

You hear the guy chuckle, "Desperate times call for desperate measures. It's not like I own a stress ball."

Another step brings you closer to the door, "I mean, they don't really do much. And therapy is expensive. Scaring your neighbors is free."

"I scared you?" He has the audacity to sound shocked, almost offended, "You scared me!"

"You bet your ass I did. Gotta let you know who the boss is around here." You sass right back, unable to prevent the bubbling laughter from escaping you.

It mirrors his, "Well, boss, wanna open this door? I feel a little looney and I probably look so too. Talking to a door and all."

His comments provokes a mumbled apology from you as you, against all the better judgement your 2-minutes-ago self possessed, go to open the door.

And my, oh my, did you win the neighbor lottery. You got a lethally cute one.

"Hi there, neighbor." You greet the taller figure crowned by a mop of messy dark curls. His dark eyes barely peer through the curtain.

But you still manage to make out his smile, even with the mask blocking it from direct view, "Hello to you too, neighbor."

"Y/N, nice to meet ya."

"Corpse, the pleasure's all mine."

His name wouldn't help his serial killer case if you weren't so focused on the few features of his you could see.

There's a brief beat of silence he puts an end to with a shy yet still witty comment, "I know you're supposed to bring baked goods to new neighbors but I can't cook for shit....I got beer though?"

A smile brightens up your face which clearly releases some tension from him, "Say no more, Corpse. You got my full attention. Even if you might be a serial killer."

His eyes blow wide, "What?"

So do yours, "What?"

Well, if that isn't the most rom-comy thing ever. Hallmark and audience approved.

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dedbut2 · 8 months

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#tw guts #animal corpse #omori #omori fandom #omori fanart #fanart #horror

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venus-haze · 4 months

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Pretty Tied Up (Otis Driftwood x Reader)

Summary: Or, the perils of working at Red Hot Pussy Liquors.

Note: Female reader, but no other descriptors are used. This takes place between House of 1000 Corpses and The Devil’s Rejects. Based on the Guns N' Roses song. Do not interact if you’re under 18, terf or radfem, or post thinspo/ED content.

Word count: 1.8k

Warnings: Dead Dove: Do Not Eat. Armed robbery and implied kidnapping. Sexually explicit content that involves extremely dubious consent and sadism, gags, bondage, groping, and gunplay. Otis is pretty much his own warning. Do not interact if you’re under 18.

Having regulars at a liquor store was a double-edged sword. You got to know some customers well enough to like them, but over time you’d notice they looked increasingly worse for wear as they came up to the checkout with their usual purchases. The exception, of course, were the Fireflys, who you always found unsettling, despite Baby’s attempts to seem affable.

“My brother likes you,” she said one day, leaning against the counter as you rang up three bottles of vodka and two six-packs of beer.

“RJ?” you asked, glancing at her brother standing a few feet behind her.

RJ was always nice enough. Didn’t say much. Tall. Burly. Strong. Ruggedly handsome. You’d be open to going out with him.

She laughed in her usual high-pitch that always toed the line of being spine-chilling. “No silly! I’m talkin’ ‘bout Otis.”

You stared at her blankly. “Who’s Otis?”

“You know, long hair, blue eyes, scruffy ol’ beard. He came in here the other night. You must’ve made one hell of an impression. He won’t shut up about ya.”

Oh yeah. Him. Bought a bottle of whiskey and a stack of hardcore BDSM porno magazines. ‘You ever look at this stuff?’ he’d asked, eyeing you as you put a magazine with a nude, distressed-looking woman suspended by intricate ropes on the cover into a brown paper bag. When you first started working there, you could hardly stomach the sight of the rougher fare. As time went on, you found yourself hesitantly intrigued. ‘Gotta have something to do besides go to church on Sundays,’ you replied, earning a wicked grin from him.

“That’s nice,” you said.

She snickered. “My brother’s not nice.”

“Is this everything?” you asked, hoping to move the interaction along.

“Hey RJ, you gettin’ anything else?” Baby asked over her shoulder.

He shook his head, approaching to pick up the crate you put the bottles in.

Baby handed you a wad of cash. She almost always overpaid, letting you keep the change, which was most of the reason you humored her antics in the first place. “Thanks darlin’! See ya real soon!” she said, wiggling her eyebrows, keen to something you were yet to be aware of.

Two nights later you were working the store alone. Your coworker Billy didn’t even have the decency to call and let you know he wasn’t coming in–or quit. He just didn’t show up at 9:30 when he was supposed to, and your phone call to his house was met with a busy dial tone. Asshole.

It’d been a slow night anyway, but you would have appreciated the heads up, or at least another body in the place when the front door was kicked open.

“This is a robbery! Don’t fucking move or I’ll shoot!”

Despite the bandana covering the bottom half of his face, you knew who it was right away. Long, graying hair and piercing blue eyes that were burned into your memory from his last visit to the liquor store.

You lifted your hands in the air. Your manager had told you on your first day that there was always a possibility of this happening. Better to just let them take whatever cash and booze they wanted and report it to the police once they left. ‘Don’t go playin’ hero. We got insurance.’

“Keep those hands up,” Otis said, slowly approaching the counter. “I’m gonna walk back there, and you’re gonna open the register for me.”

You nodded, eyes glued to him as he slithered around the counter like a snake, gun steadily pointed at you.

“Go on,” he said.

With a trembling hand, you opened the register, the cash-filled drawer popping open for him. He pressed the gun to your temple, instructing you to put the cash in one of the brown paper bags by your side. You tried not to glance at him too much while you stuffed the paper bag with the money, finally pushing it toward him and sticking your hands up again.

“Alright, now turn around.”

“Wh-What?”

“I ain’t got all night.”

You glanced at the door. No way you could make a run for it, but maybe someone would walk in and be able to do something.

He followed your gaze and let out a cruel scoff. “Ain’t nobody coming through that door who can save you. I’m the closest thing to salvation you’ll ever get. Now turn the fuck around.”

With a shaky breath, you did as you were told, freezing when you felt the barrel of the gun press against the back of your head. His free hand grabbed your ass through your jeans, his strong grip almost painful as he squeezed each cheek. “Wonder how much it’d take to make you bruise?” he mumbled, almost to himself. He squeezed again, harder this time, as if he were trying to dig his fingers into your flesh. “Too much work when I can just cut into ya.”

“Don’t hurt me,” you pleaded, though hearing your own voice, you weren’t quite sure how convinced you were that you didn’t want him to do his worst. Knowing what you did about the Firefly clan, the rumblings around Ruggsville about the strange family–it would be pretty damn bad.

“C’mon now, mama. You led me to believe you liked it rough,” he said, voice gravelly and low as he slipped his hand between your legs from behind, rubbing the rough denim material and your cotton panties against your pussy, the friction hitting your clit in just the right spot for you to let out a shameful moan. Your hand flew to your mouth, the other clenched in a fist as you tried not to give him the reaction he wanted. Didn’t want to prove him right. Show him how curious you were. You didn’t even have it in you to fight back, not when you were on the edge, so achingly close until suddenly you weren’t anymore.

You nearly whined when he pulled his hand away, horrified at yourself, your reaction to his groping you. He grabbed each of your arms, roughly pulling them behind your back and tying your wrists together with something itchy and uncomfortable that dug painfully into your skin as you fruitlessly tried to free yourself from the secure knot he made. What the fuck did he use? Your eyes widened at the carpet burn-like sensation that’d begun to sting your skin. The roll of twine beneath the register. You used to secure some customers’ more sensitive purchases sometimes.

Fingers and cloth forced their way into your mouth until you were gagged with the bandana Otis had pulled off of his face. He turned you around, looking you over with a slow, satisfactory nod. “I was having trouble getting over this mental block in my art. Started drivin’ me crazy. Y’know, they showed this nature documentary about a group ‘a lions a while back. How they protect and provide for their families, stalk their prey and go in for the kill–do you ever think about how we’re the only species where killing is taboo? For the rest of the animal kingdom, it’s just nature, part of the circle of life. There was a scene where the lion saw a gazelle from way across the savannah, and it was like nothing else existed except for its prey. It couldn’t rest until it tore that damn thing apart. That’s how I felt when I saw you.”

You shook your head frantically, your pleas of mercy muffled by your gag. Fat tears blurred your vision until he morphed into something monstrous, straight out of a nightmare you couldn’t wake up from.

“I ain’t gonna kill ya,” he said, roughly petting your head, “not yet anyway, that’d be a waste when I’ve barely even started.” He gave you a mean grin as he grabbed a hold of your hair by the roots. “I got a lot planned for you. Those magazines gave me a lot of ideas too.”

He lowered the gun, dragging it between your breasts and further down your abdomen until he reached the waistband of your jeans. Using his other hand, he unbuttoned and unzipped them with alarming ease, pulling them down until they fell to your ankles. Your breath hitched as he pressed the barrel of the gun against your cunt, the thin fabric of your panties the only thing stopping him from being able to slide it inside of you.

Still, the cool metal sent a shiver through you as he rubbed it against your clit, black spots creeping into your peripheral as you hyperventilated through his sadistic experiment. He was hard. That much you knew, but what frightened you, perhaps most of all, was how wet you had become since he tied you up. Your skin still screamed against the rough twine that’d been cutting into your flesh, soon to draw blood as you kept struggling.

Your hips jerked, pressing the gun barrel closer to your pussy that was eager to betray you and clench around it if he just pushed past your panties and shoved it up there. You didn’t want him to do that, not in your right mind. But no one in your situation could be considered in their right mind, could they?

“Don’t fight it,” he encouraged gruffly, blue eyes piercing through you as he watched your knees threaten to give out as you neared orgasm. “Give the devil his due, mama.”

Your hands curled into fists, nails threatening to break through the skin of your palm. Then he did it. Slipped the barrel of the gun past your soaked cotton panties. Your brain short-circuited in a rush of terror and thrill at the sensation. You came, eyelids fluttering shut, a guttural moan tearing from your throat and pushing through your gag. Your limbs felt like ghosts, incorporeal parts of you that could only offer a vague sense of feeling compared to the sensation that overwhelmed your body, pleasure and adrenaline coursing through your veins all the same.

Gun be damned, you collapsed against the checkout counter, unable to support yourself any longer. Your chest heaved, unable to catch your breath with the now saliva-soaked bandana still shoved halfway down your throat. An astounded whine escaped your lips when he brought the gun up to his nose and sniffed. “This is it, mama. This is the devil’s salvation.”

He wasn’t making any damn sense, or your brain was too fuzzy to comprehend what he was saying. All you knew about the devil was from the Bible and that stupid Dr. Satan story people regurgitated like spoiled food. If Otis was the devil, you’d believe it, though.

The sound of a car door slamming shut made your eyes widen, and you glanced over your shoulder, your muffled screams of either help or warning to however was approaching.

“Sorry about this, darlin’. We’ll have a lot more fun later,” he said, hitting you across the face with the gun, sending you to the brink of consciousness.

The bell on the door faintly jingled, and the last thing you remember seeing was a large, familiar figure walking towards you.

“C’mon and help me get ‘er in the car,” Otis said just as you passed out. "Don't forget the cash."

#otis driftwood x reader #otis driftwood #house of 1000 corpses #the devil's rejects #3 from hell #slasher x reader #slasher community #slasher fandom #otis driftwood fanfic #otis driftwood imagine #slasher fanfic

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ethanhoewke · 9 months

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if i die i die

credit: hewittswhore

#friday the 13th #jason voorhees #thomas hewitt #texas chainsaw the beginning #Texas chainsaw massacre #rz michael myers #rz halloween #otis b driftwood #otis driftwood #house of 1000 corpses #the devils rejects #3 from hell #rob zombie #slashers #slasher fandom #slasher community #slasher fucker

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miwachan2 · 6 months

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Fighting vamp. Eclipse back feels unreal i think he find it funny though.

Maybe the prey Turned out to be Former hunter.

oooohhh Hunters~ Courageous mortals thinking their skills and weapons are enough to stop him are Eclipses most entertaining of encounters

And the final realization that all their effort and bravery were fought in vain?

Delightful

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bosinclairsgff · 9 months

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How slashers would react to a s/o with separation anxiety.

Hey guys! So sorry I haven't posted sooner. I was visiting family. I hope you guys enjoy!!

Includes: Bo Sinclair, RZ Michael Myers, The Grabber, Corey Cunningham and Otis Driftwood.

Warnings: Mention of kidnap and separation anxiety (duh)

Bo Sinclair

He normally doesn't mind you staying pretty close to him at all times but when he gets annoyed/mad during the day he takes it out on you.

Would make jokes about how you follow him around like a lost puppy.

If he left without telling you then came back later only to find you having an anxiety attack, he would try his best to help calm you down.

RZ Micharl Myers

He is always close by no matter what. Even if you can't see him you know he's around somewhere watching you.

He likes that you want to be so close with him all the time.

Tbh he has separation anxiety too just a little though and he would never tell you.

He wouldn't know how to help you if you had an anxiety attack. He would just sit next to you and watch you cry.

The Grabber

He loves that you have separation anxiety. It would make him feel so good knowing he made you feel like way about him.

If you ever made him upset, he just wouldn't visit you for a few days. It would give you so much anxiety and you would long to see him.

He likes that you need to be close to him or that you need him to comfort you.

If you ever had an anxiety attack in front of him, he would hold you and play with your hair, UNLESS you made him mad then he would laugh and leave the room.

Corey Cunningham

Would be literally so sweet about it.

He would spend all his spare time with you and when he's not with you he will keep updates with texts or calls frequntly

I could see him trying to leave early in the morning to go get you a nice breakfast so he could surprise you. But you wake up and he's not there, so you start to have an anxiety attack until he shows up with food and he comforts you. He would feel so bad, but he was just trying to surprise you...

Otis Driftwood

Would make fun of you.

Doesn't understand what's wrong with you and thinks you're being too clingy.

He would get annoyed if you followed him around or didn't give him enough space.

If you ever caught you having an anxiety attack over the fact you couldn't find him or something he would roll his eyes and walk away.

#horror #horror fan #horror movie #horror movies #horror films #the grabber #house of wax #bo sinclair x reader #bo sinclair #otis driftwood #rz michael myers #rz halloween #house of 1000 corpses #corey cunningham #halloween ends #slasher fandom #slasher x s/o #slasher fucker #slasher x reader

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