#fuck off otis

[professorsta]

People calling Oj stoic and boring are we talking about the same man? Who only went back to defeat a whole ass alien cus he loves his horses and survived because he was able to live near Jean Jacket without pissing it off for 6 months? We talking about the guy who could face a 100 feet tall jellyfish but got scared by a bunch of children playing a prank on him? The guy who opened his truck door when he didn’t have to just to make sure his sister and Angel were safe first? Who loves his sister so much he made sure she knew that he saw her before sacrificing himself for her? He went back for the ranch because he said they’d be homeless if they didn’t try and get it back from JJ! You’ve ever heard some movie logic like that? Otis has to be the first horror movie protag to go back and defend their home because they’d straight up having nothing to their name if they didn’t. He locked his door after JJ broke his car windshield you wish you were that funny! He’s brilliant! He’s sentimental! He’s a good brother! He believes in the supernatural at a drop of a fucking hat! JJ respected his weird ass just enough to give him extra time to survive. Otis is a lovely character y’all just don’t Pay Attention

#the guy who responded to Jupe’s story about gordy #with #‘shouldn’t have used chimps then”’ #iconic #he said my principals and love for animals won’t even let you off in this convo #Otis I love you #he went back for his hooorrsseeess #I wouldnt have! I’m sorry but I would have been too scared #and too focused on my survival #but Oj has enough love and strength in his heart to not only think of the horses #but to try and fight to save them too? #fuck oooffff #nope 2022 #Jordan peele #good big brother #non judgy too in a mean way #just kind stares at you like #did that just happen #and then he moves on #oj haywood #otis haywood #emerald haywood #daniel kaluuya #keke Palmer #nope #also you’re lying if Otis wasn’t attractive #when you knew he was scared as fuck #but because of who he is #he handled it in a very Cowboy Way #and calmed your nerves a bit while Angel and emerald were losing their minds

[abby420]

it’s honestly pissing me off how much o and otis call themselves (and other people call them) sex therapists in sex education

#sorry maybe it’s just the psych major in me but every time they call themselves a therapist i just want to scream “YOU DONT EVEN HAVE A #FUCKING DEGREE LET ALONE A LICENSE’ #idk it’s just incredibly frustrating #esp with how the adults accept and call them that too? #and the school is just letting them run a ‘therapy clinic’ ??? #like what the actual fuck #if i was the school psych contracted with this school i’d be losing my mind #i just wish they’d let go of calling themselves therapists #like maybe call it a peer support group or something #but you are not a fucking therapist #you are a teenager #even otis’s mom who is a licensed psychologist doesn’t correct them?? #idk i’m mad i can rant about this for awhile #sex education #s*x education #this season is pissing me off

[immobiliter]

i think like. what also gets me about the way that adam & michael's dynamic is portrayed in the show is the fact that, so often, in the face of toxic familial dynamics, the focus tends to be on the child and the ways in which they are able to break the cycle of generational abuse. i can't think of another example where the piece of media actually deconstructs generational abuse in a way that puts the focus on both the parent and the child and allows both to grow and overcome, in this case, the toxic masculinity that permeates their relationship and get to a point where a resolution is not only possible but heavily signalled by the narrative itself ( in this case the writing has been on the wall since s3 that the show is gearing up for a resolution between these two. i am thrilled that it's happening but it's also not a big surprise and is one of the s4 storylines that has been easiest to predict ).

if a child has a shitty parent the story is often about how they escape/overcome/grow from that trauma and find a family of their own, not necessarily blood-related. but it just thrills me so much to see a story where it's not just adam who is allowed to process his generational trauma, but we are given an insight into michael and where that generational trauma comes from. michael gets to open up to jean about his own brother and father during a therapy session, he gets to discover cooking as something that brings him genuine joy in his life and he gets to stand up to his brother about the bullying that he faced as a child. i just looove this storyline so so much and it's the one that i probably have the most faith in the writers in terms of pulling off a conclusion.

#* / be yourself. everyone else is taken ( ooc. ) #* / character study ( adam groff. ) #i don't think anyone but ace will Get Me when it comes to this post lmao but #it's impressive that the show managed to do a complete 180 on adam and make him one of the fan favourite characters #but it's even more impressive that they pull off a 180 on michael too who is very much the 'antagonist' of the first two seasons #ugh i just #i love this show soooo fucking much can you tell ?? lmao #even if certain aspects and storylines (looking at you otis & maeve) disappoint me in s4 #there's still so much to appreciate about the way that this show writes their characters

[spidergutz-writes]

Yknow…

I’m glad I like men and dick.

CONSIDERING HOW BADLY IM BEING DICKED DOWN BY FUCKING LIFE

Read tags uvu

#shitposting #shitpost #meme #funny #im just a little gal in a FUCKING BITCH ASS WORLD #ABHHHHHHH #I JUST WANT GHOST OR PRICE OR RED GUY OR SOAP OR ALEJANDRO OR KÖNIG OR RUDY OR GAZ OR OTIS DRIFTWOOD TO JUST HUG ME OR FUCK ME #EITHER WORKS AT THIS POINT #william afton x reader #Help #GOD WHY DO I LOVE SO MANY FICTIONAL CHARACTERS FUCK #….okay I think I’ve feeling better #Well #off to read more fanfics…AFTER I FUCKING STUDY SOME MORE-

[shslpunkartist99]

twitter(.)com/FULAIDI1/status/1664060781720133632 twitter(.)com/FULAIDI1/status/1630552303672459266

So would you adopt, fucc, or nah with FunkinMix Damien, Otis, and BF? :3

Damien I'd adopt

Otis I'd punch

BF I'd fucc

#Damien looks so bothered by Otis everytime I see art of them! fuck off Otis #it's so weird to see an Otis that doesn't look/act like mine #Otis has a bunch of interpretations that are all valid but it feels sooo weird #feels like I'm the only one that makes him... responsible #but yeah lemme save Damien and fucc BF

[slasher-male-wife]

Horror characters with an s/o who's love language is biting

So I'm sorry for barely posting anything in forever I've just been in a bit of a funk for awhile. Anyway @k1nn1e-0n-ma1n was super insistent I write this so shout out to him and his Bo Sinclair brain rot. This also was slightly inspired by @osirisisv RZ Michael Myers drawing.

Includes: Bo Sinclair, RZ Michael Myers, Otis Driftwood, and Doomhead

Warnings: Violence kind of, Bo and Otis being a perverts kind of

Bo Sinclair

Lester was a biter as a child and Bo has a very high pain tolerance so you biting him doesn't hurt it just surprises him. He honestly didn't know what you did until he looked over and saw you biting his hand.

"The fuck are ya doin'?" He'll ask verbatim. He's not mad, he's just confused as to why at 5:47 on a Tuesday during him watching reruns of some 80's show you decided to bite him.

When you say it's a love language he immediately thinks it's a sex thing. You will quickly shut that down and he'll get a little less excited.

"I still don't understand why ya did that darlin." He'll say before pulling you either on top of him or underneath him and just holding you so you can't bite him again.

On occasion he'll let you bite him again, but if you do it when he doesn't want you too he'll storm off to wherever and ignore you until you make it up to him.

RZ Michael Myers

He has a very high pain tolerance but when he feels you biting him he'll immediately push you off of him or put you in a headlock. He won't let you out either unless you beg him.

He is very confused as to why you bit him, because to his understanding you're not supposed to hurt the people you love.

He's going to probably disappear for a few days to think this over, and because he doesn't want you to bite him again for a little bit. But he'll come back more understanding.

You can bite him, but only when he's prepared and you're willing to 'play fight' because let's be honest, play fighting with Michael is basically him thinking he's playing and you fighting for you life. Could put you in head lock again.

He honestly might just roll up his sleeve and indirectly ask you to bite him. But this will happen after a lot of talking about how biting him means you're not trying to hurt him you just love him.

Otis Driftwood

"Did you just fucking bite me?" He asks you. And honestly no matter where you bite him it's a bad idea because he would taste like cigarettes, blood, and dirt.

Will be mad until you explain you do it because you love him and he'll laugh. Will also think it's a sex thing but you quickly shut that down. He's a little disappointed but doesn't mind too awfully much.

He doesn't mind as long as you give him a proper warning before you do it. If you catch him off guard he'll honestly pull his arm or whatever part of him you bit and leave you alone for a few hours at the least

Because he's a little freak he'll ask you to try and bite him harder than you normally do it to see how much pain he can handle. You can probably draw blood before he tells you to stop.

Overtime he learns to love it and honestly doesn't mind too much anymore. If a victim tries to or actually bites him he'll laugh and tell you about it later. "Don't worry honey, they weren't as good as you."

Doomhead

He’s not exactly lucid all the time so he might not realize you’re biting him at first. When he does realize it he pulls his hand away and laughs about it. "Do I taste good to you or something sweetheart?"

Will tease you about it non-stop. Brings it up all the time even if there's nothing to do with it currently. He'll have a hard time understanding that you're doing it "out of love".

He might honestly buy you a dog chew toy as a joke if you bite him often enough. Or like one of those baby teething toys. He will laugh so hard about it, especially if you get embarrassed about it.

That's not to say he doesn't like when you bite him. He can find the repetitive feeling calming and it honestly might make him feel more lucid at times. But he'd never ask you to do it. He might gives you hints though

#bo sinclair #bo sinclair x reader #bo sinclair x you #bo sinclair x y/n #michael myers x reader #michael myers x you #rz michael myers #otis driftwood x reader #otis driftwood #doomhead x reader #doomhead #slasher x y/n #slasher x reader #slasher fanfiction

[ladywuvly]

♱ long before (s2!daryl dixon x green!f!reader)

summary|| As fate would have it, a devastating tragedy compelled your father to open up your front gates to a group of families seeking refuge from the new world. Amidst the unexpected turn of events, a certain individual with piercing blue eyes, a colorful vocabulary, and a rugged charm manages to capture your attention. However, as tensions rise and emotions become complicated, you're forced to confess your deepest desires. wc: 6.9k

warnings|| MDNI; 18+ content, semi-public, blood/violence + mentions of, swearing, size kink (if you squint), smut, fingering/handjob (f!m!receiving), unprotected sex (p!v), rough sex, bodily fluids (sp!t/squ!rt), praise, agegap, begging, breeding, cockwarming;

masterlist. socials. rec.

It wasn't every day there were new people at the farm, let alone living people. However, when your older sister's shrilling voice called for your father and the all too familiar smell of fresh blood came wafting through the front door, you knew the peaceful salvation of your childhood home was no longer hidden from the terrors of the new world. 

That had been weeks ago; before families were camped out under the shade of the oak trees in your front yard, before Otis had died, before you had met Rick, or before you had sat and comforted Lori as her son lay dying in the blood-stained sheets of your guest bedroom. 

Long before they'd found any evidence of Carol's little girl being anywhere nearby, and even longer before a certain blue-eyed, foul-mouthed, redneck had caught your attention. 

You'd heard him ride in with the rest of them. Watching him from behind the white, wooden column of the porch. Tanned, dirt and sweat-covered skin, dressed in a sleeveless button-up that exposed the toned muscles of his arms, which flexed as he flicked the kick-stand down and stepped off the motorbike. 

It didn't take long for you to make friends with the rest of the group. Although, no matter how often you tried making peace with the shaggy-haired man, he always seemed to push you further and further away. 

Perhaps he knew what you were trying to do. Like he'd somehow discovered your ploy. How you'd show up at his tent on the outskirts of the camp, dressed in those frilly little sun dresses, presenting him with something or another that always made his heart swell up in contentment. 

No matter how short he was with you, or how many times he told you it was 'nun of y'er business', he still couldn't help but feel unworthy as he watched you frolic your way towards his islet tent.

It wasn't until he had heard you one morning, from the other side of the bathroom door, that was when he knew he was fucked.

Carol had demanded he'd shower, it did no good to have him 'stinking up every place he went' as she had put it. He had scoffed before eventually agreeing a shower might actually do him some good.

A place where he could relax for a short time, stretch out his strained muscles in the lukewarm water as he cleared his head from the millions of thoughts he had since their arrival.

The water was already running and he was praying that whoever it was in there, wasn't using up the rest of the warm water. He was about ready to bang on the door and call out a harsh 'hurry up in there'. That was until he heard the sweet sound of your voice from inside, suddenly rendering him speechless.

"oh daryl..." All high pitched and slurred, in that sweet honey-coated tone filled with urgency and pleasure. He wanted to move, he truly did.

You were just a girl, maybe 8 or 9 years younger than him. You didn't know what you were doing, acting solely on desire and lust, still foolish and ignorant about the real world.

That is what he told himself, as he imagined what you must've looked like in the moment. Hand shoved between the milky plush of your thighs, the same ones he'd caught himself staring at more times than he'd like to admit.

Skin flushed under the warm water and steam of the shower, face displaying a consuming look of pleasure, as your orgasm coaxed little whimpers and whines out of your parted lips. "daryl, daryl, daryl..."

He couldn't stand there any longer after listening to you finish. Rushing through the front door and down the porch steps before hastily grabbing his crossbow and wandering off in hopes of finding anything to distract himself from the blasphemous image of you.

Little did he know that wasn't the first time you had touched yourself to the thought of him.

Earlier that morning you'd woken up from an erotic-filled sleep, slick and sticky, panties clinging to the dripping arousal of your cunt as you rubbed your thighs together hoping to provide enough friction to lazily get yourself off.

You huffed and turned over a few times before giving up. Throwing the covers off and exposing yourself to the nipping cold of your bedroom.

You walked towards the window, hoping that the sight of the barely rising sun, was excuse enough to crawl back under the covers and rest for a few more minutes, before having to get up to start your early morning chores. However, the sight below you caused a chill to run up your spine, as goosebumps littered your skin.

He stood below your window, the picnic bench in front of him occupied by his crossbow, and the remains of his catch for this morning's breakfast.

The way he so effortlessly worked on his kill; cleaning, gutting, and skinning whatever poor little forest critter so foolishly crossed his path.

The sight of his muscular arms, as they flexed and strained, was alluring compared to his gore-full actions, and before you knew what you were doing, your hand snuck under the hem of your short, floral nightie.

Resting a hand against the window-pane as your other slipped into your panties. Your fingers played with the wetness of your arousal, coating them in your slick as you eased them past your slippery lips and into your weeping entrance.

You moaned quietly, pulling them back out to rub circles against your swollen clit and then plunging them back into your aching cunt again. Repeating the action over and over again, as you ogled the man before you.

You imagined what it would feel like to have his hands on you, instead of your own. Bigger and rougher, the callused skin of his palms running along the softness of your waist and hips, as he'd rock you back and forth on the pads of his fingers.

Gripping his forearm for leverage as you quivered against him. The pure strength of his bicep, which you'd grip at to keep yourself from collapsing into a puddle of sweat and cum.

His warm breath fanning against your cheek and neck, as he encouraged you with those sweet little praises. "You like that, huh? You like that, sweetheart?...Come on, sweet girl don't you want to cum?"

Your walls tightened as you became painfully close to the edge. Your legs trembled, knees buckling as you held yourself up against the glass. Your orgasm was bliss, soaking your thighs and hand with your release, as you muffled a cry, biting your bottom lip in order to keep yourself quiet.

Coming back down from your high you quickly stepped away from the window shamefully. Your skin felt hot and sticky, and even after just getting yourself off, you wanted more, you needed more.

You decided a shower would be best, something relaxing and isolate where you could refresh yourself, before having to go about your day.

It had been a few hours and you were now seated by the burning embers from this morning's fire, helping put together whatever you could find to make some sort of breakfast for everyone before they all got to work for the day.

You spotted Daryl as he made his way out of your house and back towards the camp. His hair, a darker shade of brown, as fresh water droplets dripped down the recently cleaned skin of his neck.

God, what you would give for him to let you lick it up with the flick of your tongue.

You imagined what he'd smell like, what he tasted like. His scent, wouldn't be clouded with any fragrance that distracted from his natural musk. His skin, warm and inviting against the drag of your tongue. You could feel yourself getting wet at just the thought of him.

Quickly you grabbed a plate and made your way up across the grass, stopping in front of him as he was headed towards the RV. You watched him freeze, his eyes casted down and away from you, causing you to frown at his refusal to meet your gaze.

"Here, I know it's not much... but you should eat something."

You offered him the small plate, only for him to hum and shake his head. "'m fine." You were concerned at his refusal. He was not a man of many words, but that didn’t mean dismissing you like this altogether. He'd normally just take whatever it was you were offering him, before going back to whatever it was he was doing.

"Look... everyone's eaten and you know nobody's going to be seen harboring back for seconds, given our circumstances." You laughed it off in hopes of lightening the mood. Only when you looked back at him, did you notice the look of anger take over his features.

"No you look... I don't know what ya' think this is, but we're not 'ere ta' make no friends. Our only priority is findin' a way ta' get the hell off this farm, and whether or not I eat this piss-pour excuse of a breakfast, is gonna change that. Ya' hearin' me?"

His words caught you off guard. They were harsh and filled with hurt, and knowing that those around you had most likely turned to look at him, once the sound of his voice had risen, was humiliating.

It was mean and patronizing, and you were embarrassed that he'd thought he could talk to you like that. Like you were just some ignorant girl. Like someone who didn't really know what was actually going on.

It didn't take you very long to flee after that. You had almost scoffed at him before shoving the plate of food into his chest and brushing past his shoulder.

You weren't going to let everyone see just how much his words had gotten to you, so you lifted your head and walked with poise back towards your house.

Only once you'd made it into the solidarity of your kitchen did you let out the breath you were holding. Cursing at yourself for not seeing it sooner, by letting the way he made you feel cloud your judgment of who he really was, who he really thought you were.

In that moment you decided for yourself to just push down this stupid little crush and focus on what was important. Helping get these people back on their feet, so they could get a move on.

You consumed yourself with chores the next few days. Helping Lori with laundry, Carol with any cooking, and even offered Andrea a hand maintaining the few guns your father had let them keep, while helping protect the farm.

She was pleasantly surprised at how much you knew about such weapons, but you quickly reminded her how you'd grown up and where exactly you were raised. This only encouraged her to teasingly call you a 'hick', before asking if you wanted to go shooting with her and Shane the next time they went out. You told her you'd think about it before excusing yourself from the RV.

That night you sat with them beside the dying fire, and it didn't take long before you felt the heat of a lingering gaze on you. However, this one was dark and grim, greedy and predatory. Unlike the light, pastel blue eyes you were so familiar with.

These felt thieving, like they were just waiting watching for the chance to get you alone, secluded and out of the keen sight of others.

You felt it best to turn in for the night. Walking back towards the house you weren't scared, far from it, you knew this farm like the back of your hand and yet you still felt unease.

The snap of a twig behind you caused you to gasp, as you expected a walker to step out in front of you and bite your face clean off. However, the sight of Shane emerging from the shadows was strangely just as frightening. Those temperamental eyes that looked you up and down, caused you to wrap your arms a little tighter around yourself.

"Andrea tells me you're good with a gun. Real good..."

Nodding compliantly, hoping it would satisfy him to cut the conversation short and allow you to escape inside. Except your silence only made him pursue you even more.

"She's giving me more credit than I deserve. My father taught me how to shoot, that's all." You quickly remitted.

Shane wandered closer and you took a quick look back at the house, trying to estimate how many steps you would need to take in order to get back inside if need be.

"What is your deal then, hm?"

"My deal?"

"I just mean, I'm trynna figure you out."

"I guess there's just not much to figure."

"Oh, but that's where you're wrong. I just want to know what makes a pretty young thing, such as yourself swoon so hard over that dirty old red-neck." You're shocked at the accuracy of his accusation.

"I think I'm tired, and it's getting late, and I'd like to go to bed. Goodnight Shane."

"Now just wait a min-Everythin' alright?" Daryl suddenly emerged from behind you and you'd soon grown frustrated.

You hadn't seen nor spoken to him in the last few days yet, here he was showing up to save you like you were some damsel in distress.

Dragging a hand through your hair and letting out an exasperated sigh. You watched as Shane stepped closer to the both of you. "You got impeccable timing, you know that?"

"Hell's that suppose to mean?"

"Nothin' man, just getting to know our hosts a little better, that's all."

"Yeah? Well don't."

Scoffing at both of the men, drawing their attention back to you. "I'm not standing around here to watch a cock-fight. Both of you, just leave me the hell alone." You left them at the bottom of the porch steps.

"Wait a sec... Just stop!... I'm sorry!" You froze, halfway through the door frame.

Slowly, you turned around to find Daryl standing at the bottom of the stairs, nervously scratching at the back of his neck.

"What?"

"I was pissed, 'n took it out on ya'. Wasn't right."

"Carol make you come up here."

"Nah, feel bad... didn't mean to hurt ya'."

You were genuinely surprised that he'd come back to apologize all on his own. Looking away from him seemed to be the only way to keep a smile from breaking out on your face. You nodded and hoped it was enough to get him to retreat, but he didn't.

"Hey..."

He called, making you look up at him through your lashes.

"When I say m'sorry, I mean it."

You nodded again quickly. "I believe you."

It was now his turn to nod this time, as he drummed his thumb against the side of his leg. "Only... you owe me another apology."

"Hmm?"

"That breakfast... was not piss-poor… made that with love." You teased, leaning up against the door frame.

He stifled a laugh and kicked at the dirt in front of him. "M'sorry 'bout that too then."

You couldn't help but flash a warm smile at him while you watched him fidget before you. Stepping back onto the porch and descending the steps until you stood face-to-face with him at the bottom.

You gazed into his eyes and despite the slight height you got from the stair, you found yourself still having to tilt your head up to meet his gaze. You couldn't help but feel a sense of curiosity, as there was an indescribable emotion hidden within them.

Rather than trying to put it into words, you decided to thank him. Affectionately rising up onto your tiptoes and planting a gentle kiss on his cheek. "Goodnight, Daryl."

Then with a smile, you made your way back up the stairs and towards the front door, as you finally entered the house.

You didn't sleep well that night, tossing and turning for hours before you eventually gave up on sleep altogether.

Once the sun began to rise you slipped on your boots and grabbed a sweater, hoping maybe an early morning walk could help you clear your thoughts.

They only really consisted of one thing, Daryl. Even though he apologized, that hadn't been the only time he'd been short with you. Sure, it was the first time he'd actually yelled at you.

You wondered why he had been so mean, what had made him snapping at you so early in the early morning, when you were just trying to be kind to him? What had happened that he was already pissed off about?

Coming up late last night when Shane had been trying to 'get to know you', and as much as he made you uncomfortable, why did Daryl feel the need to interrupt?

Did he secretly despise you that much that he had to ward off people from trying to befriend you? It confused you, how such a seemingly simple man suddenly became so complex.

You hadn't realized how far you had wandered until the sight of the old brick chimney came into view. You knew it was time to turn back when you'd somehow managed to subconsciously walk towards the one thing that was causing you so much troubled.

"What're ya' doin'?"

You gasped at the gruff sound of his voice. Turning around to see Daryl not too far from you. He looked well rested, like he'd just woken up.

"Couldn't sleep. Needed some time to think, figured a walk'd do me some good."

"So ya' wondered all the way out 'ere."

"I guess so."

He looked off from you, not having anything else to say, or maybe just not having the words. "Did I do something? I mean... to bother you or upset you in some way. I get it now that you're not one to make friends, but after you apologized… I just don't know what I did to deserve you making sure everyone stays clear of me."

"Like ya' talk with Shane was so friendly."

"That's not what I meant and you know it."

There was a pause as you waited for Daryl to speak.

"I heard ya'..."

Your face scrunched in confusion and Daryl sighed. He'd hoped you'd understood what he was talking about without having to go into much detail about it.

"Sayin' my name..."

Your eyes widened and you flushed bright red in embarrassment.

"I- I'm sorry, I thought the window was closed... I-"

"Window? Nah... in the shower..."

You became even more humiliated, not only by the fact that he had heard you touching yourself to the thought of him, but as you accidentally confessed how you'd done it more than just the once.

"Look y're a real pretty girl 'n all, but it just ain't right... With yer father lettin' us stay 'ere, it wouldn't be right."

"So you're saying if this wasn't the circumstance where we met, you'd take me to bed?"

"That ain't what I'm sayin'."

"Then what are you saying, Daryl?"

"That m'pushing 30 and y're barely 20..."

"21... 'n I'm not a child, Daryl. Not where it counts..."

"Shouldn't be sayin' that."

"Why? Why does it matter? We're both adults. There's not a soul in that house that would even give a damn. The world has ended, there are no laws, no morals to live by anymore. There's only wants and needs, and I don't want to be scared anymore... and I need you..."

You stepped closer to him, eyes never leaving his as you bravely confessed your feelings. "Tell me... Tell me that you don't need me."

You watched his pale blue eyes as he studied your face. It was as if he was almost trying to decide whether or not this was real, whether or not you were real.

"I can't... but I can't give you what you want either..."

"You can-No, I can't"

"What is it you think that I want?"

"Why me, huh?... What is it about me that you need?" He dismissed your question with one of his own.

"I see the way that you are... with Rick... with Carol. You want to protect us, I know that."

He tried to brush you off, turning around to distance himself from you, but you grabbed his arm, stepping ahead of him to stop him from walking away from you. "Don't run from me. I may not know what you were like before this, but I know who you are now. I know why you showed up last night..."

"Ya' don't know nothin' ." He spit out.

"I know you wanted to protect me. I know that's why you warded off Shane, and why you apologized. You might not know why, but I do. It's because you care. You care about me... and us, and this place, and you can pretend all you want like you don't, but you can't fool me, Daryl."

You hadn't let go of him and you reached out to grab his other hand. He flinched and tried to pull back from you, but you didn't let him. Bringing his hand up to cup your cheek as you looked up at him longingly.

"So stay with me... Tell me that you do need me... and don't let anyone take me away from you..." All he did was stare at you, his hand remained relaxed against your cheek.

You were about to drop it in defeat and sulk your way back to the house, but his hand flexed, fingers threading into your hair and pulling you closer to him. You closed your eyes as he rested his forehead against yours. His breath was ragged and you were afraid he was going to pull back and leave you all alone.

He nudged the tip of your nose with his before tilting your head back and finally slotting his lips against your own. Leading closer into him, your grip on his arm tightened and you tugged him closer by the collar of his shirt. His hand still in your hair, pulled you into his needy mouth as his arm wrapped around your waist to keep you firmly pressed up against him.

You put every last bit of your doubt into the kiss, hoping he'd take it all away from you. That he could somehow tell you that you were right without having to pull his lips away from yours.

His hands began to wander, gripping at you wherever he could. Brushing your hair over your shoulders, and pulling at the sleeves of your sweater to run his hands over the exposed skin of your back. Hooking your arm around his neck and kissing him fiercely as he leaned down into you.

You opened your mouth for him as his hands traveled down over your waist. He rocked you against him, pressing you into his hips causing you to gasp into his mouth at the feeling of his erection digging into your stomach.

His hands didn't stop, leaving behind a trail of fire in their wake as he continued to caress as much of your skin as he could. He took a step forward and you stumbled for only a moment before he lifted you off of your feet and wrapped your legs around his hips.

He led you both over to his camp, ripping open his partially zipped tent before ducking the both of you inside. You hadn't pulled your mouth from his neck, and when he finally set you on trembling legs you were able to see just how much damage you'd done to the heated skin.

He began stripping you of your sweater as you simultaneously worked on the buttons of his shirt, only you hesitated at the sight of the pronounced tainted skin on his chest. His shirt was pushed off his shoulders, hanging around his elbows allowing his arms minimal movement to clutch at your waist.

Your fingers traced over the scars causing him to flinch, reaching up to pull your hands from his body. He looked at your face, utterly surprised when it wasn't a look of disgust or pity gracing your soft features. Instead, a small smile and a look of admiration.

He let your hands slowly rest back against his heaving chest. Caressing your wrists as you went back to tracing the darkened skin. He closed his eyes when you'd touched a particularly deep one, shivering as fantom pain shot across his shoulder.

You froze and he opened his eyes to see you looking back up at him worriedly. He hummed and leaned closer, nudging his nose against the side of yours before kissing you softly. "S'okay... don't hurt."

You nodded, slowly pushing his shirt the rest of the way off his arms, letting it fall, discarded on the ground behind him. You toed off your boots as he led you back towards his cot. Placing kisses along each new area of your body he exposed to the chilled morning air, as he pulled off your sweater and slip.

It soon joined his shirt and his own boots on the floor as he laid you bare on his sleeping bag, which was accompanied by a few thick blankets and a single pillow.

He pulled back to look at you, kneeling between your parted legs. Your hair, fanned out around your head in a halo as your skin flushed pink. A few marks along your neck and chest, turning a dark purple, a harsh comparison to your delicate complexion. It caused his heart to beat furiously, as his chest filled with pride.

You whined and reached out for him hoping he fall back down against you. Only he took your hands in his and pinned them against the blankets. His fingers laced and gripped tightly onto yours as he dove back into your neck and chest to continue his assault on your sensitive skin.

Your back arched as he sucked and nipped at the tender skin of your throat and your hips rolled against his, chasing that feverish need for pleasure. He pulled away from you again and you almost cried, but at the rustling sound of fabric and the jingle of his belt you whimpered in anticipation.

He was back on you before you could even call out for him. Hands ripping your panties down your legs, caressing the soft skin of your ankle, and placing a kiss to the muscular physique of your calf. "Daryl..."

There it was, that oh so familiar plead of his name, laced with lust and desire.

"Again..." He demanded.

"Daryl?... please, Daryl..."

He crawled between your legs, resting against the pillow with his hands on either side of your head. His lips caught yours as you caressed his sides. Hands traveling over his back, only to find more scars etched into his hardened skin.

You moaned into his mouth, pulling him even tighter against you, grinding your hips into his erection, which strained against the fabric of his boxers.

He growled and kissed your lips deeper, ignoring the voice in the back of his head telling him to stop. Telling him that he wasn't worthy enough. That he didn't deserve the privilege of touching your flawless skin with his tainted hands, or pressing his roughened lips against your delicate ones.

However, as your hand caught him firmly around the neck, keeping him from pulling away from you, and your hips eagerly bucked against his once again, as a symphony of your pleasure flowed into his mouth, the voice fell silent. Drowned out and muffled by you, and you alone.

Your fingers toyed with the waistband of his underwear, teasing the trail of hair leading down from his navel, before slipping underneath the fabric. His breath hitched as your nimble fingers wrapped tightly around the base of his cock, tugging at him skillfully.

He leaned in, resting his forehead against your temple, his lips parted as his breath quickened. You continued to attentively pump your hand up and down his hardened length. The fingers of your other hand tenderly running through his hair, showering him with affection as your lips brushed against his flushed cheek, leaving a trail of lingering kisses on his heated skin.

"f-fu... Fuck..." He stammered, his hands tightened around the quilts, his arms trembling as he struggled to maintain his advantage above you.

He suddenly pulled your hand off from around him, pinning it back onto the bed. "S'enough... won't last if ya' keep that up."

He groaned, trailing his free hand down between your bodies, as his fingers parted your lips, playing gently with your dripping folds. The sound of his voice in your ear sent shivers down your spine, causing you to gasp in pleasure. You instinctively clung onto him as you tugged lightly on his hair in an attempt to encourage him.

Daryl only hummed into your skin, nuzzling his face into your neck as he continued collecting your arousal on the tips of his callused fingers, spreading your wetness around your swollen, aching clit.

If it were anyone else, you might have felt self-conscious about how wet he'd made you from something as simple as his hands against your skin, or how perfectly his body fit against yours, but with Daryl, all your thoughts melted away. Everything just felt so comfortable, so right.

His fingers circled the rim of your entrance, slipping gently between your lips. You guided him back up to your awaiting mouth from his spot nuzzled in the valley of your breasts, where he'd taken his sweet time kissing and nipping at the swell of them.

His mouth latched onto yours, sucking at your lips and teasing you by grazing his teeth over them softly. You couldn't help but revel in the comfort and pleasure of his touch.

His finger eased smoothly into your slick entrance. Your walls drawing them in with an eager clench as a rush of pleasure washed over you, causing you to moan against him. His fingertip caressed against the certain spot deep inside of you.

You arched your back in ecstasy as he suddenly added another finger. He stretched you even further causing you to let out a pleasureful moan that made him pause and instantly detach from your lips.

Looking at you in disbelief, he couldn’t believe the sight before him, the way your hips began to hump against his hand, aiding to the pleasure coiling in the pit of your stomach.

You were absolutely breathtaking in your blissed-out state. His fingers stilled causing you to whine in frustration leaving you craving their pleasurable drag, in and out of your walls.

He sat up, pulling them from your weeping cunt to watch himself as he spread your arousal around your messy clit. You nodded your head profusely. "Don't stop..."

Your chest heaved, rising and falling in anticipation as he slipped his fingers back inside of you. His thighs were tensing beneath yours, trying his hardest not to grind against you, lost in his own pleasure.

That's when you felt him, your knees tightened around his hips as his cock started riding shamelessly against your inner thigh. You reached for his face, getting him to look back up at you as you caressed his jaw. "Please, Daryl... I need you-I need to feel you inside of me."

His fingers pulled back out from your entrance, popping them into his mouth, and licking them clean. Hoping to satisfy his craving of you with just a subtle taste of your sweet cunt.

He gripped at your waist, thumbs massaging circles against your hip-bones as he imagined tasting you straight from the source.

His lips were back on yours in seconds, hands pushing his boxers down franticly, and before you had the chance to catch your breath he'd already lined up at your entrance.

The head of his cock smeared in your slick as he teased you. He could feel your warmth soaking him as he let out a labored sigh, wishing he could just stuff you full.

He began slowly pushing into you and you clamp down on him. Your gasp turned more erratic and you fisted the sheets. Pulling them from your grasp, he reached out gripping your hand once you let out a soft hiss from the stretch of him.

"Relax sweetheart, we'll go slow."

He started carefully, squeezing your hand, he felt a subtle sting as your nails pierced through the skin on the back of his hand. A melody of whines slipped from between your lips, at the feeling of his cock, as it slid perfectly inside of your walls, as he entered himself inch by delicious inch.

He leaned forward, nose brushing against yours. As you both panted against each other, it kept you anchored to reality as he finally bottomed out inside of you with a deep groan.

Then he waited, for an agonizingly long time, before you gave him the go-ahead. Bucking your hips up, begging for more friction. He takes his time fucking into you, long and slow at first. Reaching so deeply with each thrust of his hips, causing you to gasp every time he bottomed out.

You withered and squirmed beneath him, moaning incoherent nonsense as he pinned you to the bed. Crying out as your orgasm built up at an aching speed.

His hips moved faster at the feeling of your walls relaxing around him, fitting his cock like a glove. You moaned and wrapped your legs tighter around his hips, he hooked the hinge of his arm under your knee. Lifting it up higher, so you could feel him reach deeper inside of you.

He let out a grunt against the crook of your neck. He couldn't see the way you took every inch of him, but he could hear it. The sticky squelching of your pliant little cunt being speared open for him, and fuck, he could feel it.

Hot, wet, and tight around him. Grinding your hips in rhythm with his, as noisy wet clicks filled the background noise. Embarrassingly loud, from how slick you'd become as he stuffed you full of him.

Hanging by a thread as you used your free hand to claw at his lower back, leaving angry red lines behind on his skin, as you held onto him desperately. He groaned at the pain and yet he enjoyed it. The feeling of being so close to you.

Your thighs opened wide for him, puffy lips spread and swollen, sensitive, aching clit peeking out from them, dragging against the hair at the base of him.

All of you, covered in a glossy sheen of your own juices, as a ring of arousal collected at the base of his cock, dripping onto his thighs. "Don't stop, m'gonna cum. Daryl, don't stop!"

You could feel the coil inside of you snap, a string of cries escaped your lips as your eyes rolled into the back of your head. The high-pitched whine of his name. His lips consumed yours as he thrusted into you riding out your orgasm.

The convulsing clench of your cunt was his downfall. His upper body collapsing on top of you as he moaned out your name, before painting your insides white, your womb becoming nice and full with the weight of his release.

Reaching back down, he cupped his balls, massaging them. Causing himself to cum even harder. He began whimpering against your ear, and his sloppy wet kisses left behind a trail of drool, as he kissed down the side of your neck.

The two of you remained connected for quite some time. Basking in the sex-filled atmosphere of his tent. Your labored breaths and the cooing of the mourning doves, was your lullaby.

The heat radiating from the man caging you on the cot was bliss. Even as your skin was covered in a sheer layer of moisture you didn't want him to move from his place on top of you.

Your breaths began to even out and the gentle kisses he was placing on your shoulders and neck became less frequent. He began to sit up, and you felt his softened member start to slip from inside you causing your hands to tighten on his body, stopping his retreat. He froze at the sudden movement, afraid he'd hurt you somehow.

"Not yet... just- just a few more minutes." You whispered, pulling him back down to lay on your chest. The full wait of him felt safe, comforting. It was like you'd finally found solace after months of living in fear.

His fingers played with your wild hair, lulling you to sleep. Your hands on his back, mindlessly began running over his jagged scars, causing him to shiver at your unfamiliar touch, but he didn't stop you.

As much as Daryl hated what his father had done to him as a child, and the disgust he felt when looking at the lifelong reminder, your gentle hands were a beautiful relief in comparison to his father’s cruel ones.

There were so many things about you that were beautiful, so many things he just wasn’t used to. He wondered if that’s why he must've turned you away so often.

How when you offered things to show your affection towards him; books, food, clothes, blankets, sometimes even just your thoughts and feelings, he'd turn you away.

It was weird for him to experience such kindness from people around him and when a beautiful girl, such as yourself, suddenly came along and did it all, without asking for anything in return, it scared him.

He expected that after a while you’d start asking things of him. Things he'd have a hard time being able to give you. Things like friendship and vulnerability, things that oftentimes led him to get taken advantage of.

And yet as you laid beneath him he found himself wanting to give you such things. Wanting to be the reason you smiled so brightly at him, or laughed so beautifully. He wanted to feel the caress of your hands anywhere and anytime he could have them.

He hadn’t realized what exactly made him so wary of you in the beginning, but he knew now. He knew that you brought to life a part of him that he thought had died, a long time ago, long before the world had even ended.

Long before his brother had convinced him they were weaknesses, and even longer before his father had tried to beat them out of him.

"Would ya' leave with me?" He asked unexpectedly.

"What?"

"If... When we 'ave ta leave. Would ya' come with me?"

His words took you by surprise. You hadn't really ever thought about leaving the farm. Not that there were many places to even run towards, but still, the thought of leaving behind everything you'd ever known scared you.

Yet, you also knew that the farm wouldn't be safe forever. You knew that one day you would have to leave, and whether it was now; with Daryl and his group, or later; with your father and sisters. That was the real question.

"I don't know. I think there's more to it." You said.

"Why's that?"

"I can't leave my family Daryl... but I also know that what we have here won't last forever, no matter how badly I wish it could." You could feel Daryl shift against you, leaning back to look up at you as you spoke.

"I'm worried that if we're out there on our own, my father won't be able to protect us all, no matter how badly he'd try." It hurt for you to admit it, but you weren't fool enough to not realize the truth.

"It would either make us learn how to protect each other or find others to protect us... and to tell you the truth, I don't know how many people are out there, that are worth protecting back..." You felt tears well up behind your eyes, as a hitch caught in your throat.

"Not like you... or Lori and Carl... or Glenn... Carol... I'm afraid that God might've dropped you all on our doorstep and my father is just too blind to see it."

Daryl wanted to laugh at the mention of God. "Ya' think God did all this?"

"I'd like to think he did something. Whether that be bring the dead back walking or sending you here. Either one puts a strain on my fathers pride." You teased.

Daryl sat up and this time you didn't stop him. You winced as you felt him disconnect from you and sighed as his hands ran softly over your hips. "'mazes me ya' still believe in God after everythin'"

"I've got to believe in something." You said smiling up at him. He laughed and shook his head.

As Daryl's eyes fixated on you, it was evident that his mind was lost in thought. He couldn't help but admire your unwavering faith in something as unreliable as God, even at a time like this.

In this apocalyptic world, it wasn't God who would shield you from the undead. It wouldn't be God who'd courageously plunge a knife into their skulls or valiantly fight to protect you from any danger, but rather Daryl.

He would willingly place himself between you and the snapping teeth of a walker or stand as a shield, to the menacing barrel of a gun, if it meant protecting your life.

Even in a world as cruel and tormenting as this one, he was determined to make sure you had a chance to experience just a little bit more time.

"Then believe in me..."

He looked at you, really looked at you this time.

"Don't waste y'er energy believin' in somethin' ya' don't even know will protect ya' or not... Not when m'here..."

© ladywuvly please do not steal, copy, or translate any of my work onto other platforms!

#ladywuvly. m.list #18+ blog #18+ content #daryl smut #daryl fanfiction #daryl imagine #the walking dead fanfiction #daryl dixon #navi. #daryl dixon smut #daryl dixon x fem!reader #daryl dixon x reader #twd #daryl x you #daryl x reader #soft!daryl #fandom #hurt/comfort

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer park Steve AU part 59

part 1 | part 58 | ao3

cw: canon-typical horror/gore (like for real this time), emetophobia, reference to minor character death. ty to @thisapplepielife for indulging my weirdly specific research about headstones

Steve tries to follow her — gets shot down before he even gets within speaking range, Max shouting at him to give her a minute the second she spots him coming over the hill. He backs off, hands raised in surrender, and then…

Well, then he’s already out of the car.

Well then his feet know where to take him.

His dad’s grave isn’t far. Maybe a football field away, close enough that he’ll be able to hear it if Max calls for help. He moves toward it without thought, his legs carrying him past simple overgrown markers in the oldest part of the park — crumbling remnants of civil war soldiers, farmers and shopkeepers and factory workers, people who worked the mines, people who died before his grandfather was born. People who might have been loved once, before time and moss and water stripped their names off of the stones.

Up the next slope, the markers get more elaborate, shift from bronze to granite to marble, to monuments and mausoleums and a fucking obelisk; ostentatious displays of the town’s oldest money. The coal barons, the oil tycoons. Rotten bastards, Wayne might say.

The Harringtons aren't that rich. They're further down the hill in a neatly manicured row of Indiana limestone; fresh flowers on each grave, the weeds plucked, the grass trimmed.

Dad's buried right next to Grandpa Otis.

It almost looks nice.

Crisp, clean, dry. Nothing to suggest the messy wet red of his father's demise. Steve shoves his hands in his front pockets and steps up to his dad's plot, toes the edge of it, the rounded lump of earth, sparse grass and loose soil where his father's bones are laid. The ground gives a little under his weight, the dirt compacting. Could he dig this up with just his hands? Could he claw through until he reached the bottom, pry open the box and peer inside? Unbidden, the image forms in his mind: worm food and rot, half a man left inside, somehow still frowning in disappointment with his jaw bone shining clean.

Steve's stomach turns. A sick shiver runs through him, saliva flooding his mouth, sweat beading at his hair line.

This isn't right.

Something's not right.

There's a sudden chill in the air, frigid wind carrying a smell like roadkill in the summer — heat wafting from the pavement, death clogging up his throat. Steve covers his nose and wills his shoulders down from his ears; tries to mutter words of comfort to himself under his breath. “Just a graveyard, Steve. Just a totally… normal…”

Ice on the back of his neck. Steve tenses every muscle, turns his good ear toward the sound of whatever's creeping up on him; something taller than him, something slithering and wet, its rasping rattles of frozen breath sending goosebumps down Steve's arms. His hands twitch inside his pockets.

Then, a voice — a voice that isn’t his, that can’t be anyone’s, because the man it belonged to is dead. “That Munson boy was right about you."

Steve can't fucking breathe. Dark clouds roll in around him, violent as a blooming bruise, and that voice behind him echoes — distorted, vicious; hungry.

"You are a black hole."

Steve grabs two fistfuls of his own hair and tugs; wills the pain to dispel the nightmare, his eyes swimming from the sting.

The thing behind him laughs. "Look how you ruined your mother," it snarls. "Look how you tore her apart.”

"Shut up!" Steve barks with his hands over his ears.

“Steve…” The voice deepens, beckons, thick with malice and rot. Steve slowly turns to face it, trembling all over, pulse thudding in his ears, and his shoes squelch in the dirt, and when he looks down he sees that the dirt has turned to mud that now turns to oozing red, a viscous river beneath his feet, flowing up over his ankles, pouring from his father's grave. And there, in front of him, a mangled remnant stands. The ruined corpse of Richard Harrington, his skin shriveled and gray, the torn parts of him held together by his clothes. There’s a hole in his torso where the exposed ribs glint like knives.

Steve throws up on himself.

The ground gives way beneath him, goes spongy like rotting meat, and the thing wearing his dad's face cackles as Steve sinks into the earth, the grave swallowing him whole, up to his calves, his knees, his thighs. "Join me," it offers, lipless smile full of teeth.

The glamor peels back to reveal a monster underneath, its scarred skin crawling in mucus-coated vines; naked, long-limbed, stitched together with burnt flesh.

Steve screams as he scrambles for purchase, up to his hips now in the muck, his feet on the lid of his dad's casket. He claws blindly at the loose ground but it’s all thick and wet with red, and the air itself is red; blood in the sky, in his eyes, in his lungs. He's going to die here. The voice tells him so. It's in his head now, a bellowing echo as the monster draws near, one hideous hand outstretched, an all-consuming join me, join me, JOIN ME—

“HEY!!!”

Max shouts directly in his face, shaking him hard by both shoulders where they're crouched on the cool ground, Kate Bush leaking from the headphones slung around her neck. Steve gives a startled shout and jerks back out of her grip, falling hard on his ass, landing harder on his elbows.

The world shifts back to blue. To dry, clean grass. To breathable air.

Steve pants up at the sky. His shirt clings to him where he's soaked it through with sweat. When Max offers him a hand, he stands on shaky legs, looks at the ground beneath his feet and screams again, scurrying back until his ass hits a stranger's headstone.

There’s a dent in the earth where he was standing. A smudge of packed dirt where he really did sink in. Steve stares at it; feels it reaching out for him, the dark patch thudding like a heart beat, spreading out like snaking vines.

He clutches at his heaving chest. Max’s eyes are huge on him.

"Okay, what the fuck?" she begs.

"What the fuck yourself!"

No heat behind the words, but they burn him, anyway, pushed out on a weak gasp. Is this what she was talking about? Is this what she calls nothing?

This doesn't feel like fucking nothing.

“Shit," she says, and her eyes go even wider. Steve can see the veins in them. "Shit, Steve, your nose…”

He swipes his arm across his face.

It comes back red.

—

part 60

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#trailer park steve au #steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #max mayfield #vecna

[see-arcane]

OJ and JJ: Why Jean Jacket Let the Haywoods—Especially OJ—Get Away with More Than Anyone Else in “Nope”

I’ve seen Nope twice now. While everyone I saw it with enjoyed it, I heard a few cries of foul when it came to OJ and the others’ improbable good luck with all their near misses interacting with our favorite terrifying gulch-haunting UFO. I call foul back and say plot armor had nothing to do with it. Some luck, yeah, otherwise we’d have no protagonists. But that was hardly all.

Spoilers for Nope below

To be clear, I am absolutely not painting this as the same delusional ‘friendship’ Jupe assumed he had with Jean Jacket. Neither he, nor OJ, nor anyone else is a miraculously endowed animal/alien tamer with an automatic ~*~special bond~*~. It’s one of many points Nope goes out of its way to illustrate. You can only train (or disrespect) an animal so far before they lash out, especially predators, and especially island-sized UFOs with the munchies. But, insomuch as there is any ‘safe’ way to coexist in close proximity with something like Jean Jacket, OJ Haywood is shown to have pulled it off with flying colors. And he did so almost entirely unaware to begin with by dint of his character traits.

That and a combination of Jean Jacket’s own instincts are what likely put him and the people around him in the tiiiny pocket of special allowance JJ deigned to give them over the course of the movie.

Let’s roll back to the first scene with the Haywood Ranch and the death of Otis Sr. A death by falling nickel that happened six months before the present-day events of the film. Just before this, father and son were curious about the screaming in the clouds—a fresh snack of hikers about to be squelched—followed by the rain of inedible bits. We can assume this was Jean Jacket’s first time flying in the gulch, and he chose the Haywood Ranch as The Spot for Purging; just like the hills next to the ranch were chosen for his ‘nest’/hiding place/resting spot.

While Jupe was methodically feeding JJ fresh horses and imagining the big guy trusted him, Jean Jacket kept going home to his actual favorite spot right next to OJ and his horses—a man and his big juicy animals out training in broad daylight, day after day, without ever pestering them. No missing horses. No missing OJ. Despite JJ clearly having opportunity and a taste for both species by that point. Why?

The obvious answer is that OJ kept his head down. Literally. Eyes always on his work, under the shade of his hat bill, maybe glancing at the clouds now and then…but always too far away to agitate. For all that time, he was unconsciously respecting Jean Jacket’s rules. Plus, he was in JJ’s purging/nesting territory first; yes, Jean Jacket was calling dibs on the whole gulch, but if the locals already there aren’t bothering him, fine, sure, they can stay.

The place’s importance to Jean Jacket, OJ’s head-down habits, and the amount of time spent coexisting with each other sans trouble all combined to put OJ and the alien into as close to a neighborly setup as could ever be expected. Don’t fuck with me, I don’t fuck with you.

Then things start picking up. Too much activity, too many new skyward glances from OJ, too many hackles raised with the Star Lasso Experience. And yeah, JJ did almost vacuum OJ up—he infringed on their ‘arrangement’ and looked! The nerve! And after JJ let him get away with hiding under a roof the night he stared up at the dust devil that took the fake horse! How ungrateful!

…A move that, in hindsight, plays almost like a Strike 1 offense, paid back by slurping up the actual horse. OJ’s staring at the Star Lasso arena was likely Strike 2. After snapping at OJ and causing the accidental knockout against the ceiling, JJ flies off without him or Lucky.

Off JJ flies to the Haywood Ranch again, full of screaming people and detritus and huffy extraterrestrial chest-pounding. And what does JJ do? He drops a big bloody purge waterfall directly onto the Haywoods’ house—OJ’s territory-within-JJ’s territory—like the giant alien version of an animal hiking its leg and marking all over a lower-tier animal’s spot.

This is a warning. This is my place. I rule here.

Then, as if holding onto the statue for last (hell, that may have been the real Strike 1), he moves his big flying Roomba self over to OJ’s truck—which I’d bet JJ definitely recognizes after six months—and just hovers. Hovers. Hovers.

Making sure OJ is paying attention. Then he hacks the statue out like a bad loogie right into the windshield. Assuming it didn’t kill his ‘neighbor,’ it would be a fine lesson:

You are on thin ice. Do not cross me again.

Come morning, what do we find out? Not only is Jean Jacket smart enough to know the humans will react when he moves enough to let the electricity fizzle back on, he immediately moves back overhead to stare down at OJ. My guess? It was a test.

You know better, neighbor. What do you do when I am here? What very smart thing have you done in all our quiet time side by side?

And thank God, it does dawn on OJ in time. Do Not Look. No Eyes On JJ.

So he ducks his head. And, even though he caught a very obvious peripheral glimpse, Jean Jacket still lets that slide. Jean Jacket lets OJ, his sister, and Angel—probably his family/pack in JJ’s POV—scurry away in their silly rolling box. We can’t even say it was because Jean Jacket was still full; the big guy looks like he has whole miles of gut to chow down with.

No, he lets OJ and company off with a few warnings, because the arrangement renewed. And off he goes to settle in his cloud again.

Cut to the run.

I sincerely believe that if it had been any other person on the horse, any other person goading Jean Jacket along the run, they would not have lasted a minute. No, not even with their head down. We’ve seen by now just how fast JJ can move, how quick he can flip from zero to I-Will-Knock-You-Back-Like-a-Shrieking-Tic-Tac. And nobody can say they didn’t clench up when they, like OJ, realized Jean Jacket was hovering right behind him like the world’s most ominous frisbee. Ditto the part where JJ slurped up the TMZ jerk barely a yard away from him and Lucky.

Thiiis close to sucking him up. But no. The dust devil got Mr. TMZ with the precision of a straw.

Then we get to the run—OJ on horseback, JJ being JJ, going fast…but almost at his version of a canter. A brisk walking pace.

That much might be owed to the fact that, unlike all his other prey, the people/horses have gotten a good look at Jean Jacket, then turned to run. With OJ’s staring hoodie, he’s retreating while still looking at/challenging JJ. That’s new! That implies Jean Jacket’s neighbor has his hackles up even as he moves away!

So Jean Jacket gives a comparatively leisurely chase. Then, just when he gets fed up and goes for the vacuum maneuver—surprise! Flags everywhere! Jean Jacket freaks out as expected, twisting away rather than risk gulping up another bad meal. What the hell, OJ, why didn’t you warn JJ you were a statue this whole time?

And, finally, the climax.

OJ looks at Jean Jacket dead on, still sitting on the flag-strung Lucky. This is when Jean Jacket has completely unfolded into what looks like a full intimidation display. These tiny two-legged things have turned into a big flag-covered, barbed wired headache for Jean Jacket. Perhaps even a threat. It’s down to a fight for the territory in JJ’s perspective. Someone has to go. And OJ, the one he ‘knows’ best, the one that had respected and been respected by Jean Jacket most, like two sullen predators in the same cage mutually agreeing not to bother the other, is the one metaphorically baring his teeth first.

Even as he flexes all his freaky jellyfish anatomy, Jean Jacket hesitates.  

Does he think this is OJ warning him away? Or is he really instigating a fight to the finish? …Is there a chance OJ could win?

Even when, finally, OJ does begin drawing him along, away from Em’s bike, we never see JJ strike out with his appendages or make another dust devil. He’ll match OJ’s staring contest, he’ll creep closer, but he does not lash out.

It’s only when Em revs up and takes off for Jupiter’s Claim that Jean Jacket gambles on pursuing what he (mis)takes for the less worrisome Haywood. Simply because she looked at him and fled? Because JJ wants another warning to spit up for OJ later? No way to know.

All we see is that OJ, by a mix of hair-thin good fortune and animal training experience, managed to live with, counter, and psych out Jean Jacket enough to earn the man-eating megafauna’s tolerance and enough respect that it edged near worry.

tl;dr: No, OJ was not a magical horse/alien whisperer. But he did gain enough of Jean Jacket’s esteem to give him the best odds of survival, cohabitation and manipulation, simply by being himself, being respectful of the ‘rules’ once he knew them, and being cool as hell while everyone else fell apart or got slurped.

#hope you like text walls #anyway I love it when directors don't spoon-feed the details but leave them there for you to pick up yourself #OJ Haywood #Jean Jacket #Nope 2022 #Nope #horror #jordan peele #spoilers

[jakeperalta]

Dear Otis. You know I hate soppy romantic stuff. So don't get your hopes up. This isn't a love letter. When we first met, I didn't trust anyone. I thought if I kept everybody out, I'd stop myself from being hurt or let down, which is what I was used to. Then we set the clinic up together, and I realised that most of the people who came to us for help really just needed connection. And maybe I wasn't so different. You have the rare ability to make people feel truly seen. And you did the same for me. It was this and your relentless optimism about human beings that gave me the courage to start opening myself up to other people. For the first time in my life, I didn't feel alone, which allowed me to imagine something bigger for myself. I want you to know that however much it fucking hurts that we can't be together, I won't ever close myself off again. Meeting you cracked my heart open, and now it's forever changed. And because of that, I will carry a part of you with me wherever I go. I think what I'm trying to say is thanks for everything, dickhead.

#sex education #sexeducationedit #maeve wiley #otis milburn #maeve x otis #motis #userdanahscott #lorelaigilmo #userrobin #userdosa #usermoonchild #usergiu #userjessica #usershreyu #usersmblmn #tvfilmsource #romancegifs #filmtvdaily #creations* #sex education spoilers

[professorsta]

Emerald tried to push Oj over but he dodged cus he still had his “quick reflexes”, and he said that he was watching her and that’s why he knew she was trying something. From the start the man who survived because he didn’t stare never stopped looking after Emerald

#bruh their sibling dynamic is realistic as fuck #they rag on one another they piss eachother off they’re the only people they truly feel safe with #their eachother best friend their each others first childhood friend #their protective their annoying as fuck to eachother #I love them #nope 2022 #nope #jordan peele #otis haywood #emerald haywood #oj haywood

[ivanzplaid]

okay a bit of an odd request but my way of flirting is oddly threatening like “i want to hallow out your chest and live in your rib cage :((“ to me it’s endearing 🙏 and i totally want to see slasher hc on how they’d react !! idc what slashers you use and you can be as silly as u want !! i think it’d be funny with Stu though ^^

hi!! dont sorry about odd requests, i love seeing everybodies ideas, and i love this!! im also so excited about me choosing the slashers so ill pick a variety🫶

slashers will includdeee; Baby Firefly, Otis Driftwood, RZ Michael Myers, Billy Lenz, Stu Matcher

Slashers x Gn! Reader | Odd Flirting

Warnings: Language, Fluff, mentions of murder

------------------------------------------------------------

Baby Firefly

oh she thinks its hilarious

you share a twisted sense of love? shes giggling at every sentence and comment you say, a hand hovering over her mouth to try to calm herself

she never thought if flirting like that before, but now that shes heard it shes as into it as you are

"You're too clever sweetheart! I woulda never thought of it like that, hm <3"

it started when you were helping her eith makeup for a show, she was bedazzled with a beautiful dress and a gorgeous amount of makeup over her already pretty face

you put on her lipstick and mindlessly let it slip, and before you know it shes smiling confused, asking uou to repeat what you said

she sees you laugh nervously before repeating it, and all she does is think about it before smiling, kissing your cheek to leave a red lipstick print, and then wants to come up with her own

she always likes to hear them, because not only is it sentimental and intimate to her, she loves to have somebody who acts or thinks a little like her, so maybe the more twisted / odder the flirting, she feels secure and that she understands you

will pout when she cant think of any, itll come with time

she wants to say some to you to see how you react, ahe loves i serving you when it happens and laughing, then hugging you

she claims her inspiration came from "her smart little doll"

a kiss after every comment is complimentary of course

"Aren't you just the cutest, I always learn the most with you!"

//

Otis Driftwood

"Fuck did you just say to me Darlin?"

takes the compliment very differently than baby, he thinks of it more of the gruesome manner than the romantic aspect, you may have to explain it to him

even after that he thinks its hilarious, did you come up with that yourself? fuckin genius

he says them back witty, but he loves to tease you about it, making them in snarky tones and drawn out phrases

he thinks of them a lot in his free time, analyzing them deeper than anybody else would think of it, because while he agrees theres a closeness to it, he wants to know why

will write down every one you say, for multiple reasons

your compliments give him ideas on his art, specifically the human-genre work of his, but when he thinks of you while carving and cutting hes never been more at peace

asks you about them at night so he can laugh while youre dozing off in his chest

most likely began when you two were awake late in the night because you couldnt sleep, and some rare sweet talk was going on before you said it

"Jesus honey, say that again?"

hes always amused when you speak, he treasures every sentence

"Sugar I need you to repeat that one, I didn't quite catch that,"

--

"Y'know, I thought that was what came out of that damn witty mouth of yours!"

//

RZ Michael Myers

he doesnt quite get it, but since he doesnt recieve compliments a lot, he doesnt think too much of it

he thinks of it along side his favor of killing, so in a way he can see the gorier side of it, and since he doesnt see anything wrong with that, he doesnt mind your flirting

he imagines what you said as hes on one of his sprees, he thinks your mind is excellent because hes never had as much fun without your ideas like that

he probably tries to think about the deeper meaning behind it, reflecting it in his art, and giving it to you to show his form of endearment

hes not really capable of reproducing flirtation it to you, since be doesnt have a good idea of it, but he has his own ways of loving you back

he'll tap you with his knife to get your attention when these start up, maybe tapping your heart lightly with the tip of it when you turn to look at him

will 100% hold you so youll stay in place, its his version if quality time, he grasps your side firmly and stares in silence, he thinks its endearing

guides you by the shoulders to take you somewhere

he has no opinion on your comments, but they do affect how he shows affection in some ways <3

//

Billy Lenz

possibly in the top 3 for king of twisted flirtatious comments, you went to the right man

he is EXCITED when you say it, hes definitely thought of flirting like that but has never been able to put it into words

"Billy likes this! Billy's pretty piggy is smart <3"

he will now use this 24/7, its his thing now, he thinks of comments youve never thought of before

whenever he sees and greets you, or wishes you goodnight, its always a "Billy wishes he could live in his special piggy," or "Heartbeats make Billy jealous, he should be there" he thinks its so intimate and smart

competitions come up with who can come up with more, its his favorite activity, he loves to test and play with you

new things to the relationship make him so happy, so this is oerfect

whenever you say these things to him, its like his hyperactivity shoots up

your sincerity is near and dear to his heart, he craves it now, he loves when you supply it

overall this only closens the relationship and makes him feel more comfortable, you inspire him and hes overjoyed, this is his pride and joy

"Billy loves his smart piggy!!"

//

Stu Matcher

normally he'd be the king of saying the most outrageous shit possible, he loves to catch people off guard and make you have to pause before you say anything

so when you say say something about how you wanna live in his ribcage, bro looks at you for a good minute with this face: 😲

"well you won that game babe, what did you say???"

he laughs hysterically while being confused, because you just outwitted him

"woahhh.. totally a creepy vibe, i love that!"

he likes to mess with billy and everybody else about it, crediting you as the 'founder' of it while shaking you by your shoulders

he likes to write down new ideas and recite them back to you, having eachother rate the newest ones you think of

if were being real, he probably takes some ideas from his killing onto these so they can be more intimate, hes a creative man who sees opportunity in every corner

because its in the gag-business, he deep dives and makes a fake analysis of 'what makes these compliments better than the rest' and presents it to you

everytime you say another one he does have to pause to think about it, hes a goofy little guy but these comments are more complicated so give the fella some time to realize what you said

#billy lenz #black christmas #black christmas 1974 #billy lenz x you #billy lenz x reader #otis driftwood x you #otis driftwood x reader #otis driftwood #house of 1000 corpses #baby firefly x reader #baby firefly x you #baby firefly #rz michael myers #michael myers #michael myers x reader #slasher #slashers #slasher x reader #stu matcher #stu matcher x you #scream #scream 1996 #stu matcher x reader #scream franchise #halloween #halloween 1978

[userotp]

Dear Otis. You know I hate soppy romantic stuff. So don't get your hopes up. This isn't a love letter. When we first met, I didn't trust anyone. I thought if I kept everybody out, I'd stop myself from being hurt or let down, which is what I was used to. Then we set the clinic up together, and I realised that most of the people who came to us for help really just needed connection. And maybe I wasn't so different. You have the rare ability to make people feel truly seen. And you did the same for me. It was this and your relentless optimism about human beings that gave me the courage to start opening myself up to other people. For the first time in my life, I didn't feel alone, which allowed me to imagine something bigger for myself. I want you to know that however much it fucking hurts that we can't be together, I won't ever close myself off again. Meeting you cracked my heart open, and now it's forever changed. And because of that, I will carry a part of you with me wherever I go. I think what I'm trying to say is thanks for everything, dickhead.

MAEVE WILEY AND OTIS MILBURN IN SEX EDUCATION

#motis #maeve wiley #otis milburn #maeve x otis #sex education #sex education spoilers #sexeducationedit #userjessica #usergiu #tuserella #userdanahscott #tv #members* #by lana

[luvghostie]

╰┈➤ 𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐒

𝐃𝐀𝐃𝐃𝐘/𝐌𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐘༊*·˚

{𝘎𝘕 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳, 𝘴𝘦𝘮𝘪 𝘕𝘚𝘍𝘞, + 𝘓𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘶𝘢𝘨𝘦}

*ೃ༄ 𝐌𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐞𝐥 𝐌𝐲𝐞𝐫𝐬

When you called him daddy for the first time it took him aback...and he's a ruthless serial killer- he obviously didn't say anything but the name made him hard just hearing it. The feeling was quite unusual for Michael. The name sent a feeling of pure pleasure throughout his body.

Now you call him daddy any chance you can. No doubt you'll be fucked until you can't think straight anymore.

*ೃ༄ 𝐁𝐚𝐛𝐲 𝐅𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐟𝐥𝐲

Baby is a chaotic but fun person to be around. If she finds interest in you, gender and mental state won't affect her. Baby likes you for you, if you were innocent she'd love you even more. Yes, she kills people but she knows something good when she sees it. Even mother Firefly likes you!!

Baby seems like the dominant type as she likes power. So, when you called her mommy it only filled her ego more. She'll be all over you as the name is something that triggers sexual desires. She'll make you say it again finding enjoyment in your humiliation and will fuck you all night long. (Otis most definitely heard you and told you guys to shut the fuck up)

*ೃ༄ 𝐎𝐭𝐢𝐬 𝐃𝐫𝐢𝐟𝐭𝐰𝐨𝐨𝐝

Let's be honest, you've been calling Otis daddy since you two first got together. His manners and the way he carries himself just give off the vibe. The name ate away at you until you finally said it. Oh boy, the number of times you two fucked that night was unbelievable.

It's like a habit now. Sexual activity or not, it's a slip of the tongue and a nickname you call him 24/7. Baby thinks it's cute but she doesn't want to hear you guys fuck. The poor girl already has trauma from the brief things she's walked in on.

*ೃ༄ 𝐂𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐒𝐩𝐚𝐮𝐥𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠

Spaulding didn't expect you for the kinky type. The innocent-looking ones are always the kinkiest. But, he likes the name and even makes you call him daddy in embarrassing situations. Out in public? You know he'll make you call him it just for humor or to make others uncomfortable.

In the bedroom, the nickname is still a must. Spaulding loves it when he feels in control. Having you a moaning mess saying his favorite new analysis, it's absolutely perfect.

*ೃ༄ 𝐓𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐕𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞

Look at her, it's no surprise you call her mommy. When you use the nickname she finds it rather flattering. She's had many exes in the past, (Chucky being one of them) who love her dominant side. She knows what she wants and how to get it.

Like Otis, she'll fuck you harder than you possibly could imagine. Reminder, this girl is super freaky and will tease you to the point that you can't take it anymore. That bright pretty smile never leaves her face while you scream her name.

*ೃ༄ 𝐃𝐨𝐨𝐦𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝

You guys were in the middle of having sex when you accidentally called him daddy. He stopped himself before asking you to repeat what you said. He's been called that name many times, coming from you though, it feels right.

He'll have you call him daddy whenever you need anything. The name makes him feel powerful over you and turns him on so much. I have a good feeling you guys fuck every night because of it.

*ೃ༄ 𝐃𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞

Dollface is a very complicated person. She can be sweet then turn around and eat your heart out. When you guys did have sex, being called mommy was the last thing she expected.

Doll likes the name shockingly. She makes you say it now and then as it makes her happy. However, She won't push you to do anything you don't like. If you want round two or want to make love more often just let her know.

*ೃ༄ 𝐀𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐧

This man will either find it very funny or very sexy. There's no in-between. When you guys do have sex it's always full of new experiences. Once, Art blew an air horn in your ear while you were fixing to cum. You punched the shit out of him which he found absolutely funny.

*ೃ༄𝐁𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐋𝐨𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐬

Billy actually asked if you could call him daddy. He'll admit it to you, the word coming from your mouth sounds like heaven. Gosh, say it all the time and he'll fold.

Billy loves seeing you beneath him and when you moan daddy- boy losses all self-respect. He isn't ashamed to ask you what his ‘name’ is. Every time you say anything besides daddy he'll just go faster.

*ೃ༄ 𝐒𝐭𝐮 𝐌𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫

Daddy? He never expected you to call him daddy. No one's ever called Stu something like that before. The common, baby, babe, and a nickname they've given him have always been usual. This is a new leaf though and from now on that's the only name he wants you to call him.

#reqs open #ask me anything #headcanon #slashers #art the clown #horror #art the clown x reader #michael myers #michael myers x reader #baby firefly #baby firefly x reader #otis driftwood #otis driftwood x reader #captain spaulding #doomhead #doomhead x reader #tiffany valentine #tiffany valentine x reader #dollface #billy loomis #billy loomis x reader #stu macher x reader #stu macher #minors look away #18+ fanfic #daddy k!nk #mommy k!nk

[soupbabe]

Can I get RZ Michael, Martin Mathias and Otis Driftwood with a goth s/o please? Like their thoughts on the music and fashion

Slashers with a Goth S/o!

Featuring: Rz! Michael Myers, RZ!Martin Mathias, Otis Driftwood, Thomas Hewitt, Bo Sinclair

- I think there's really only two groups here when it comes to these men having a gothic partner

- There's people like Bo, Thomas, and Michael that are immediately attracted to it just by looks alone

- The fishnets, the chains, the belts/ harnesses, it makes their minds run wild and their faces hot

- Their small towns don't bring in an alternative crowd, seeing you is like a treat for their eyes

- They all want to get up close and personal first, getting to know your fascination with brooding and wonderfully twisted music is just a plus

- However there's definitely gonna be a more deeper connection with Otis and Martin

- While not goth themselves, they definitely could be seen lurking around similar subcultures, y'know? They see you and there's a bit of kinship among you two

- And while Martin isn't really a man for the showy, "poser" like quality of a vampy aesthetic, he can really fall for your love of gothic romance and horror literature

- It's the same with Otis, though he definitely fucks with the darker and dramatic look of trad goth. Weirder you look the more interested he is

- All of the boys are attracted to your embrace of darker themes

- They all tend to show their love in pretty gruesome ways (whether it be blood drinking or distorting the human form for the sake of art,) and seeing your love for the odd and obscene gives them some comfort

- I'm sure the majority wouldn't care what you think of them, but it's like fate to some to know that you aren't going to be scared off so easily <33 wouldn't have it any other way

#rz michael myers #rz michael myers x reader #otis driftwood #otis Driftwood x reader #bo sinclair x reader #bo sinclair #thomas hewitt #thomas hewitt x reader #martin Mathias x reader #martin mathias #slasher x reader

[bosinclairsgff]

kkkkk so I’m curious on what some of the slashers reactions to just PURE female rage would be. And not the normal just screaming fit one, like those ones that have extremely hard hitting insults and throwing and maybe hurting someone in that fit of rage >:) (pls do Bo or any of the Sinclairs if u do this ask lmao you can add all the other ones)

Slashers reacting to female rage

Includes: Bo Sinclair, Corey Cunningham, Otis Driftwood

Warnings: Cussing, violence

Corey Cunningham

- Corey Would not know how to handle this situation at all.

- At first he would try to calm you down but if that didn’t work he’d start to get angry.

- “It’s okay y/n, just try to calm down.”

- You just keep screaming and hitting his chest. When he lightly pushes you off of him you immediately start throwing things.

- He genuinely doesn’t know what to do, he doesn’t understand what’s happening.

- Corey grabs you from behind and holds your arms down, you just continue to scream and sob.

- “Baby, it’s okay, I’m here, you’re okay baby.”

- He turns you around and cups your face, resting his forehead on yours. You just sob.

- Eventually you calm down and he still just holds you, letting you know it’s okay.

Bo Sinclair

- You were just so tired, tired of absolutely everything and everyone.

- He notices you starting to shake and get very quiet. When he goes to say something, you just start pushing everything off the table in front of you.

- Your screaming, crying and throwing everything in your way.

- Bo just stares in shock, he ha no clue what happened and what’s going on.

- “Y/n! What the fuck are ya doin!” He screams at you.

- He tries to grab you and you just immediately start thrashing out on him.

- Bo doesn’t take to this lightly and slaps you across the face, harshly. You fall to the floor, still sobbing.

- He crouches down to your level and pushes your hair out your face. “Are you calm now darlin, you can’t do that again.” Bo says to you.

Otis Driftwood

- Otis doesn’t take shit, even from you.

- If you started screaming at him and even punching him, he would hit you right back. And it would hurt.

- “You fucking bitch, I don’t know what’s up your ass tonight but you need to calm the fuck down.”

- That doesn’t stop you from pushing him off of you and starting to rip down the things on his walls, and throw anything you can get your hands on.

- That makes him absolutely livid.

- He tackles you to the floor and holds you down. Pinning your arms above your head with one of his hands.

- Otis holds you there until you start to chill out.

- “What the fuck is wrong with you. If you ever pull this shit again, I will knock your god damn teeth out.”

#horror #horror fan #horror movie #horror movies #horror films #slasher x reader #slashers #house of wax #bo sinclair x reader #corey cunningham x reader #corey cunningham #halloween ends #house of 1000 corpses #otis driftwood #rob zombie #michaelmyersgfff