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myers-meadow · 1 year

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Otis B. Driftwood x fem OC: 🌺 A muse for him and him alone 💟

Title: A muse for him and him alone (chapter 1)

Warnings: (mild) gore, rape/non-con, dub-con, captivity, necrophilia, mentions of torture.

Summary: Even the Devil himself has art block sometimes... In the fresh group of victims that comes to the house, Otis discovers a muse. Inspiration and amusement drive him to keep her around, and both grow attached. With complex feelings keeping her alive, she must find a way to ensure her survival in the household, even if she gets in the way of what the family considers as their normal.

Word count: 2137

This is a very 'Meadow'-esque exploration of what it would be like to be kept by Otis as a victim and a muse. It follows a theatre-like akte structure, and is overall somewhat fragmented, as dairies can often be. In this fic I allow myself to be entirely myself and go as dark, as soft, and as intimate as I want. This will have multiple parts, a lot of it is planned out, but I will take my time and enjoy the process.

Please enjoy! Don't forget to let me know if you did! <3

Dividers by delishlydelightfuldividers

AKTE 0: “Ich will Frei sein – richtig Frei sein!“

The road was long, never-ending, the heat almost bearable with the windows down, stray hairs catching in my lipstick at the corners of my mouth, singing along to those songs about freedom on the cd we brought from home, complaining about the mediocre gas station food. Andra, Jip and me squished in the backseat; Christoff and Bram in the front, doing their best to ignore the off-key singing from behind them, focussing on road and directions. This trip was so unplanned it was ridiculous, yet each of us joined with that enthusiasm of feeling like the summer laid in wait at our feet. We slept in joined beds or when one of us couldn’t stand it anymore, they took the car, stayed up too late to see the stars, to see so far across the plains, to hear different birds from those we have at home. To feel the coldness of the night set in, the dew waiting on the grass when first light woke us since each motel room had those shitty thin curtains, and telling ourselves we’d nap in the car. I’m sure Bram had a friend of a friend he was meeting at our destination, and Christoff and Jip were mending their messy relationship, but I was there for Andra. I hoped that if we spent these two weeks together, that her friendly touches would grow to linger. That I’d know for sure that she’d taste like cigarettes and toothpaste, that I’d not have to ask Jip to rub sunscreen on my shoulders again, that the ride would be full of stolen touches and pretending we didn’t notice the others staring.

AKTE I: Disbelief

How did we go from singing along to Helge Schneider and daydreaming in the car to this- to being hunted for sport; Andra and me stripped almost nude, tied up and gagged in some disgusting room with faded bloodstains on the floor. It was the big man with the dark hair who took us, but it was a team effort. Bram, Christoff and Jip must be somewhere, taking by the others. There were so many of them – god my head hurt. It throbbed and my vision followed the pulse of my heart. The rag around my head to gag me was tied so poorly I managed it down with ease. Andra, next to me, already awake, was littered with bruises and small cuts, open skin on her knees and forearms from falling and crawling away, panicked eyes staring into mine. And before I could think of what to say, before I could even test the give of the rope binding my arms behind my back, the bear of a guy came back. It was a blur of screaming, dizziness, cursing, and being pulled by my hair as a sharp pain through it all.

“Fuck, the bitch broke my nose!” the bear roared, knocking me to the wall with enough force that the wall itself shook. The door slammed open, and the white haired guy entered. Otis. Why did I remember his name with my head splitting open from the pain? He was angry, but when he saw me already down on the ground (cowering), Andra still tied, fallen over on her chair, and the bear clutching his nose, he burst out laughing.

“Finally met one who bested ya? Serves you right for taking first pick, asshole.” And he easily dodged my attempts to swat at him like a cat and dragged me off by the scruff of my neck.

Otis’ room was in sharp contrast to the rest of the house and I didn’t dare say a word as he strapped me to the wall, and stepped back to admire me, sleazy grin on his face. As he retreated to put on a record, I looked around at the many crude drawings on the walls. On the ceiling too, and in the middle of it was written ‘god won’t help you now’ and I couldn’t stop myself from laughing. It was a laugh like the ones where the roller coaster creeps closer to that tipping point, close to the free fall – but not knowing when it’d come. Maniacal and scary. Some upbeat blues rock perfected the absurdist reality of the situation.

Otis, reappearing, eyebrows raised, said: “You havin’ fun, missy?”

But of course I wasn’t, as much like roller coasters, this was no fun at all. “I didn’t even meant to kick him that hard,” I said, wheezing, trying to catch my breath from laughing. The knife in Otis’ hand glinted as he came closer. Death was a given, but I’d love to have another go at the fighting thing- The door swung open, a girl marched in, voice loud and high-pitched.

“They got away, Otis quick!”

“Goddamnit!” he cursed loudly, slamming the knife right next to my head, the sound of the splintering wood resounding in my head as he grabbed a rifle from behind the opened door. He complained all the while, and I leaned my head back against the wall, sighing with the relief of my demise pushed back.

AKTE II: Art show

Evening fell. When Otis returned, I’d almost fallen asleep. He let me, or made me, depending how you look at it, go to the bathroom. It was no more or less bad than anything else I could imagine to have my last moments on this earth be. There was a song stuck in my head and I hummed it quietly as I washed my hands for as long as Otis let me, before he grabbed me by the arm and dragged me back to his bedroom. Where the big bear of a man favoured rope, Otis preferred chains. Of course they were heavy, of course they were uncomfortable – but did any of that truly matter at the end of a life like this? I remembered family, and all the girls I had just a little too intense of a friendship with, and the many cats I’ve loved and cuddled. It would’ve been nice to have more time. To tell my parents of my travels, of what America is like, of how the people were all so nice.

Otis set me down on his desk chair, wrapping the chain around my chest and the back of the chair. I let my head fall back to watch him as he chatted idly, referencing conversations we shared the night before, when things were still normal, as he sharpened his knife or whatever it was that evil men do.

“You and your friends,” he said, pointing at me, “you sure are a lively bunch. We don’t get ones like you often. I don’t appreciate the noise as much, but you, you’re filling my head with thoughts. Do you have any idea how it is to be cooped up in here all day – no fresh ideas, no thoughts to share, nothing of value to ever come through these parts? But you’ve opened the doors of my mind.”

“So all those things you said about being an artist, about your art, that’s all bullshit?” I asked, moving my legs to try and swing the chair around to face him properly.

“A simple guy like me can’t be an artist? Is that it?” his tone was all venom. He wanted to scare me.

“Yeah, sure, you kill people, everyone can do that, but do you create? Can you create something from the ground up?”

He scoffed, but seemed amused as he leaned himself down to my level, his hands on my underarms – surprisingly warm, but I could practically taste the copper and cigarettes that clung to him. His eyes were even stranger in the low light than they were in the candle light of the dinner the night before.

“Oh, I’ll show you, mama.”

The ‘art’ was behind a curtain, and he pulled it back with a grand gesture, grinning widely. Going behind me, he pushed the chair until it was in front of it. It was a creature, unclear of what it was made of, but it resembled half snake, half human. A long forked tongue past horrifyingly realistic looking lips. The human half was endearingly ugly-looking.

“Wow,” I said, too absorbed in looking at it that the sound of my own voice startled me. I scooted the chair closer with awkward movements to see the detail better. Each scale was painstakingly carved and painted, the colour almost shimmery, just like how real snakeskin looks. “This is amazing. What is this made of? Is that clay?”

Otis stared at me, without words for a second.

“The detail is incredible,” I said, scooting myself another few centimetres closer. “The tongue is a very nice touch. It almost looks like a man captured by a witch, who cursed him after he lied to her. Like something out of a fairy tale. Cursed to reflect the crime committed.”

Otis just laughed but I paid him no mind, too busy staring at the complexity and high level of realism in the artwork.

“I can’t believe you created this – how long did it take you? Must’ve spent entire days on it to get all these details just right.” Admiration, mixed with a healthy measure of disbelief, dripped from my voice. “Each individual scale… You’d almost think it’s a real snake.”

Otis snorted.

I tried to reach out to feel the texture of the body, but was held back by the chains and cursed at the feeling.

“This should be in one of those big museums, selling for millions to those eclectic rich people in ugly suits. To think of a concept like this! The mythological meaning of a snake, and that with a sizable project like this. Do you make things like this regularly? God, it’s beautiful.”

In my head, thoughts swirled around, clashing in opposite directions. How could art this beautiful exist in an unassuming place, so far out in the middle of nowhere? Assuming he had no formal artistic education, and learned by doing, making it all the more impressive. Worse than that; how could a man so deeply evil have created something of such beauty with hands that have taken the lives of my friends?

All thoughts halted when he grabbed me by the neck and planted a wet, open-mouthed kiss on my lips.

AKTE III: Bad moon rising

Night fell, and my fear of death went down with the setting sun. Otis dropped a corpse down on his bed. Where did he even get her? She wasn’t anyone I knew. A small relief.

“It’s time for bed,” he announced with a vile grin. He tied the chain that bound me to the frame of his bed, leash short. I’d have to sleep on the floor. Somehow that wasn’t the worst that happened in the past 24 hours, so I laid my head on my folded arm and closed my eyes to rest. Once I laid still for a couple minutes, a harrowing tiredness set in – yet my thoughts raced. As soon as I felt my consciousness fade, the bed creaked. Grunts accompanied it and I looked up. It was dark, but without question, there was the shape of Otis, mounting the corpse. I stifled my gasp with my hand, eyes wide, lip curled with disgust. He noticed, and laughed, teeth bared in a grin like that of a wolf.

“Ain’t ever seen a guy make sweet love before?” he taunted. “Or would you rather join us? Sure you can, if ya ask nicely.”

The hardness of the cold floor was far preferable. The chains rattled as I shook my head wildly. Pressing my eyes closed, trying to shut it all out, to pretend it wasn’t happening. The noise was worse with my mind filling in the blanks, so I stared up at him again, with disbelieving eyes. How could he get worse, so, so much worse than he already was? What is wrong with this family? And then, at the back of my head: at least it wasn’t me. And, for her: at least she wouldn’t have to live with the trauma of it – although I will, for the both of us. His pleasured grunts and the creaking increased in speed and volume. No words in any language I know of could describe this.

With a final grunt, and then a deep sigh, he came. A cold arm that hit mine made me crawl as far away from the bed as the chain allowed me. Just in time, as Otis rolled the whole body off the bed, thudding down to face me, mangled and twisted with lifelessness. I screamed. Loud and shrill. The first time I did that day. I could barely hear his laughter over the blood rushing in my ears.

#otis b driftwood #otis driftwood x oc #otis driftwood #otis b driftwood x oc #house of 1000 corpses #otis driftwood fanfic #slasher fandom #slasher community

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meadow-selfship · 1 year

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💕Otis Driftwood drabble💕

Short thing I wrote for Otis, about the melancholy of the new year and how he would cheer you up when you're down. Mentions of alcohol and fireworks. Dividers by firefly-graphics.

Winter time, after the height of Christmas; sparkling lights and decorated tree made way for a deep homesickness. New Year’s Eve. Spaulding set of the first of the fireworks, and all the others joined in. With a grimace, I covered my ears and stuck close to the dog’s side. The sky erupted in greens, blues, yellows, reds, purples; bright before they sizzled out. After Otis set of his, he pressed me close to his side to watch them together. He didn’t smell of blood for once, just of smoke and the beer everyone was drinking.

“Happy new year, princess,” he said, and kissed me deeply, his palm over my windpipe. Baby giggled as she shot one of the rocket fireworks at RJ, who evaded easily, but retaliated. Watching them mess about got a chuckle from Otis, who joined in after another lingering kiss.

“Keep all your fingers,” I said, in vein, “you idiot.”

Quietly, I sneaked inside and sat on the stairs with the much more skittish cat named Hannah, while I idly held my toothbrush, listening together to the bangs and screeching of the fireworks, and the laughing and yelling from the family.

When Otis came to bed, I pretended to be asleep so he wouldn’t initiate sex.

8 AM, January first. After a meagre seven hours of sleep I gathered all the waste that was left in the yard: the fireworks and the empty cans and cigarette butts.

Otis was the second to come down, and fell down into the couch next to me, clasping his hand on my thigh. He loked at me for awhile, before fumbling with the empty cigarette box he took from the table, tearing it bit by bit as his gaze grew ever more unreadable.

“You’ve been different lately,” he said.

“Hmm. Homesick. Or just melancholic.” I shrugged.

“And moody.”

“Yeah.”

He clapped his hands on his knees, throwing whatever was left of the cigarette packet on the table again. “Come on, let’s go out.”

#otis driftwood #house of 1000 corpses #self ship #self shipping #otis driftwood x oc #otis driftwood x self insert

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slashwhores · 10 months

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Welcome to another installment of every artists hell like game... *drumroll*

[Crowd]

Which

Art Style

Will

USE

TODAY!!!

*crowd applauds*

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demon-lover-669 · 1 year

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Slashers: *puts Y/N in an escape room to test their skills*

Y/n: *happily kissing the security camera when they notice it*

Slasher: *smiling the talks over the speaker* baby you have to try and escape….

Y/n: but it’s so cozy in here

Slasher: *sighs and goes to get their partner*

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wildgirllz · 1 year

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Slashers x bubbly!girlfriend:

#billy loomis x stu macher x reader #slasher x s/o #billy loomis x reader #slasher x you #slasher x reader #slashers x oc #stu macher x reader #micheal myers x reader #jason vorhees x reader #thomas hewitt x reader #bo sinclair x reader #baby firefly x reader #lester sinclair x reader #otis driftwood #Otis driftwood x reader #vincent sinclair x reader #billy lenz x you #billy lenz x reader #slashers x you

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tiffray · 6 months

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i think you people really need to put it into perspective when yall are writing your x readers just exactly what otis is like. he is 49 years old in the 70s, born in 1929. he kills and rapes people for fun.

he probably isnt the best person to project your need of acceptance onto.

post credit

#otis driftwood #house of 1000 corpses #otis driftwood x reader #idc this had to be said #and idc yall can whine about it all you want like let people have fun/its just fiction. atp thats just an oc. just make an oc.#you don’t understand his character if you think hed be like that #rz

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5qu1dink · 1 year

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couples who kill each other

#i was thinking about that anon who said none of my fave slashers would respect my pronouns #and you know. with the power of imagination anything is possible #but i think they were right about This man.#someone send me the comic with the guy smothering the other guy because of spongebob penis pleaese #myart #diesel #oc x canon #house of 1000 corpses #otis driftwood #oc

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slasherbish · 1 year

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Run Rabbit (HTC OC's x Baby, Otis, Spaulding)

AN once in the HOTC world it will take place about 10 years before the first movie.

Blair pov

I sat on our black leather couch. I’m pretty sure Graves found it next to some apartment dumpster and it was partially held together by brightly colored duct tape. My closest friends and roommates were sitting with me, April on the couch and Graves in a stolen bean bag chair right next to the couch. We were watching our favorite movie, House of 1000 Corpses with the sequel being second favorite. As a group we probably watched it once every other week.

Normal POV.

April Locke was a short, maybe five feet two inches, yet busty woman somewhere in her mid thirties, bright cerulean eyes were complimented by pale skin and deep black hair that was more often than not dyed to match her eyes. Her hair easily reached her waist even when tied back in her signature high ponytail that fell into four smaller ponytails.She worked as a makeup artist and stripper to make ends meet. She was the oldest of the oddball group.

Graves Cassidy was a tall man maybe six feet two inches, nineteen years old, his hair was long especially for a man reaching his chest and was a very dirty blonde nearly brunette color. His body was fairly lean yet had some toned definition. He too was fairly pale from mostly being at work at night and asleep in the day. His job was a drug dealer and occasionally a thief. Graves was good at his job and paid for two thirds of the rent for the trio.

Blair Crowley was five feet seven inches and had a slim build and was also very very pale. She had been athletic most of her life, she had become athletic in an unusual way for a child though. Her favorite way to get fit was knife and fencing classes along with bootcamps. She was twenty eight years old. Blair had a lack of empathy and emotion towards most of humanity except those she held dear. Due to her lack of emotion she found comfort in her work as a mortician. Her hobby was currently taxidermy, since to her it was an extension of mortician things.

The trio were the black sheep of their families and outcasts of society. Their found family was much stronger than any blood relations they had. Their apartment was a three bed two bath apartment with a good sized kitchen and living room. The furnishings consisted of 90% stolen or dumpster finds and 10% bought items. At the beginning they didn’t have much money and so made due with what they could do. Dumpster finds were always fun group projects since they would clean it and then refurbish it to their liking. The entire apartment was far from “normal” and that’s how they liked it.

“I don’t really care what anyone thinks when I say Captain Spaulding is one sexy mother fucker” April said passing the popcorn bowl to Graves. The other two gave the short woman a playful look of disgust. It was well known in the group that April loved Spaulding for god knows why. “Mmm no he isn’t you just have a thing for clowns” April spoke up. Graves leaned his head to look at the girls and chimed in “Says the one who likes the albino rat man.” His voice was deep and smooth. In retaliation she threw a cookie at the man's head. “I like his mind, '' Blair said softly. “No cookie warfare and suuuure it's for his mind.” April said with a smile poking her friend.

When the movie ended Graves stood up and stretched. “Well lovelies I have to get to work.” He said as he walked to grab his dusty trenchcoat. “Work is an interesting word choice.” Blair called over to him. April added “could you grab some milk and icecream on your way home?” The tall man huffed in slight annoyance. “I do believe I’m paying most of the rent. You can get off your butt and get groceries.” He said before slipping out the door into the night. The girls both had early mornings so they decided to turn in for the night.

In the morning Blair woke up at 5:30 am, she walked out of her room to see Graves asleep on the couch with an empty beer bottle in his hand. She smiled and took the bottle so he wouldn’t break it. He was one of the few people on the planet that could make her smile a genuine smile. As she left for her morning run she threw the bottle into the dumpster behind their building. Blair was home by 6:20 am where a groggy April had made herself and Blair morning coffee and tea. The two had breakfast together as they did most mornings. Blair and April both left for work at the same time and walked to the nearby bus stop. April would be home by noon and then do a shift at the strip club in the evening. Blair worked almost every day from eight am to seven thirty pm. Once all home they would sit down to have dinner or in Graves case breakfast. During this time they would catch up on what had happened throughout the night and day. It was like a ritual for the trio.

On that Friday night they had decided to watch House of 1000 corpses for the millionth time. It went by as usual with drinks and popcorn being passed around. Once the credits rolled there was a loud crack and then static. This earned obscenities to be yelled by the group. Before they could wrap their heads around what was happening the world went black.

#horror #house of 1000 corpses #HOTC #baby firefly #otis driftwood #captain spaulding #x oc #fanfic #firefly #tutti fucken fruity #spaulding #otis #driftwood #slashers #slashers x oc #Baby

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moth--blood · 2 years

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charlie and otis look at them go

#horror art #house of 1000 corpses #otis driftwood #charlie firefly #otis driftwood art #otis firefly #slashers #slasher oc #oc #canon x oc

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venus-haze · 10 months

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Battie’s 1-year celebration🔮

July is a year since I started posting fics on here, and I want to spend the month celebrating! Thank y’all so much for your support and kind words over the past year, it means a lot to me🖤

I’m reopening headcanon requests and (limited) fic requests! This will last until either the end of the month or I start feeling overwhelmed lol🫠

Fandoms and guidelines below the cut! Please read carefully before requesting.

Fandoms:

Slashers

Baby Firefly

Bo Sinclair

Candyman/Daniel Robitaille

Chop Top Sawyer

Father Paul Hill

Harry Warden/The Miner

Mickey Altieri!Ghostface

Otis Driftwood

Severen Van Sickle

SPM2!Driller Killer

Thomas Hewitt

Vincent Sinclair

The Boys

Billy Butcher

Black Noir

Homelander

Mother’s Milk

Queen Maeve

Soldier Boy

Starlight

Guidelines:

Only request one character and concept at a time.

Please try to be specific with your request. If your request is too vague, I'll probably ask for more details.

Don’t send your request multiple times. If you’re concerned I haven't received your request, send an ask first.

I will write (this isn’t an exhaustive list, feel free to ask about something that’s not here if you wanna check!)

Yandere

Noncon/dubcon

AUs (depending on the concept)

Generally dark content

NSFW/explicit content

Fluff or angst - I’m going to be really selective because I don’t like watering down fucked up characters

Plus size reader - I’d prefer not to write about overly insecure plus size readers, just a personal thing

Major character or reader death

Mommy/daddy kink

Breeding kink

F/F pairings

I won’t write (for various reasons, please don’t ask me to elaborate if I haven't):

Incest

Pregnancy or parenthood, unless the character already canonically has child

Polyamory - I'm not poly, and it's not something I'm personally interested in writing about

Underage/age regression/age play

Piss kink/scat

ABO

Overly specific or descriptive readers - I'm more interested in writing for specific situations

❌ “[Character] reacting to a reader who dresses in coquette/goth/dark academia aesthetic.”

❌ “[Character] with a bimbo reader”

❌ “[Character] with a reader who’s shorter than them”

Specific mental illnesses or neurodivergency

Original characters (OCs) x canon characters

I'll add onto this as needed! I also may reject requests I don't click with or feel like I'd be able to do well.

I'm willing to try writing M/M pairings (x reader or canon characters), but if I feel like I can't, I'll try redirecting you to another blog with requests open!

#battie's 1 year celebration #this is the first time in months my requests are open!

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slxsherwriter · 6 months

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My Nanowrimo fic line up so far:

Otis Driftwood x Werewolf reader part 3

Rusty Nail x reader part 2

Michael Myers x reader request

Abner Honeywell x reader

Abner Honeywell x reader soulmate AU

Omegaverse Frank x reader part 2

William Colcott x Selina Colcott (OC)

Darryl x reader part 2

Luigi Largo x repo reader part 3

Dr. Henry Augustus Wolfgang x reader soulmate AU

Doom-head x reader soulmate AU

Vincent Sinclair x reader soulmate AU

Leslie Vernon x reader

Thomas Hewitt x reader

Zach Garrett x reader

Ethan Belfrage x reader

Chop-Top x reader

Jason Voorhees x reader soulmate AU

I was not inspired but a soulmate au writing prompt or anything....

Still time to send something in if you have an idea!

#nanowrimo #slasher writing #horror writing #slasher x reader #writer speaks

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myers-meadow · 1 year

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House of 1000 Corpses AU: chapter 6.2

Title: Initiation, part two

Previous part. First chapter in this AU.

Summary: Doe Eyes' initiation into the darker part of the family. Her reward that is no reward at all. Shared AU with @immortal-velociraptor and @vincent-sinclair-deserved-better, who Blinky and Selena belong to, respectively.

Warnings: sexual content, oral sex, mild knife play, unnegociated kink, dub-con to non-con, use of restraints, Otis is really forceful and he is an asshole, dirty talk. Some praise kink. Despite the consent issues, Manon is enjoying it.

Word count: 3481

Divider by firefly-graphics.

Sleep didn’t come. Of course it didn’t. Otis never needed much light, it seemed, and he was content on cutting up Neil with the dim nightlight on. It was worse with my back turned to them, so instead I turned around and watched them. He was truly in his element. When I’d had enough, I grabbed my blanket, and stood up.

“Where you going?” asked Otis, looking up from his position crouched in front of the man.

“Sleep in Blinky’s room.” My bare foot hit a sticky wet patch on the floor and I recoiled at the realisation that it was blood.

He sighed, and stood up. With a quick flick of the knife, he stabbed it right through Neil’s throat, and then a few more times, in his chest. With a gurgle and a sputter and a spasm, he was gone. At least his suffering was over now. Somehow it made me breathe a little easier – and worry about how much effort it would take to clean this all tomorrow.

“Happy now?” Otis asked. He stalked past me, and locked to door. With narrowed eyes, I looked at him. He was covered in blood, his hands and arms smeared in it, it had dripped down on his legs and knees, splotches on his face and shirt from when it splattered with each fresh new cut.

“What was that for?”

“Had a feeling you’d be running again. Like a little rabbit,” he grinned. “Now come here.”

“Aren’t you gonna clean yourself up a little before going to bed?” I retreated back to my side of the room.

His grin widened. “A little bloodplay’s never hurt anyone.”

With raised eyebrows, I pointed at Neil, slumped over in the chair. Otis stalked closer, grabbing me by the arm, but I dodged his stained hand.

“Different kind of blood play, princess.” He circled me like a wolf, knife still in hand. “Afraid to get your nightgown dirty?”

With a sudden move, he picked me up and threw me over his shoulder, one hand slotted in between my thighs to hold me down.

“Otis!” I shrieked. My back hit his bed before I realised what was happening. He followed, hovering over me, one knee in between mine. “You can’t mean that.”

The knife was in his waistband now, thankfully. “Why not? Scared? I’ll be real nice, all you have to do is ask.”

Trying to sit up and push him off, but prevented by his hand on my chest. “I told you it’s not gonna happen again.”

“Because you’re afraid Blinky won’t like you anymore. That’s a bullshit reason, Doe, and you know it.”

“You don’t get it.”

“No. No, I don’t. How can you say that, when just this morning you were all ‘oh I’m so glad you’re home’, ‘with you I feel safe’,” he imitated my voice, mocking me, “even got me such a nice present to let me hunt a day late - and now you’re acting like some stuck-up, lyin’ bitch.”

I scoffed. “What?!”

“You heard me. That moment when you made your little sounds when we were outside, I know you’re into this as much as I am.” He grabbed the back of my neck, similar to how he did during the smoke break before, and pulled my head back to expose my neck. I whimpered, trying to find words, to tell him off, to be as mean as he was- his nails dragged over my scalp and silenced every thought in my brain. With another tug, his hot lips pressed to my exposed neck, just under the jaw. Sensitive spot, nerves close to the skin, the warmth of him, it felt sinfully good. Good in a terrible way. Good in the way it felt good to trick Neil; either so bad it felt good or so good it felt bad – it was impossible to distinguish individual sensations anymore.

“Otis, stop.” but even I heard how breathless I sounded. Teeth nipped at my ear, a punishment designed to be pleasant .

“Already such a whiny little brat? You’re in for a long night if you keep lyin’ to me, princess.”

“I’m not-”

He interrupted me. “Sure you are. Let’s have a look then.” And his hands moved down, underneath my skirt and pulled at my nylons, trying to pull the fabric apart, with enough force to make me bounce on the mattress. I swat his hands away, and in the struggle, elbowed him in his neck – accidentally but with great momentum behind it.

“Oh, now you’ve done it,” he said, expression darkening, rubbing the spot I hit, before forcing me down. He pinned my legs with ease, straddling me, and with so much of my body down, struggling was futile. A hand around my throat made me still, breathing shallowly. He reached to the side, rummaging in his nightstand. A pair of handcuffs, and I swallowed. However much I wanted this to be a joke, it surely wasn’t. No play. The struggle that followed as he captured my hands could barely be called a struggle, as the thought of him overpowering me was paralysing on its own.

His nose bumped into mine as he pushed my hands through the bars of his metal bedframe and locked each handcuff around a wrist, tightening them with satisfying clicks. Hot breath mingled in between us, as he chuckled. He smelled of blood. My eyes flickered closed, at his mercy now, but still dressed.

Righting his back and leaning on his haunches, he trailed a finger down my arm, to my shoulder, playing with me, then around my neck again, testing the pressure until it made my breath hitch from the mixture of danger and excitement. He took his time. Fingers trailing from the neck to the collar of my blouse, hands still stained as he undid it, button by button. He bit his lip as he reached the bra, folding the fabric away, touching the edge of lace, eyes like that of a predator, taking in each tiny expression on my face.

Even more buttons undone, until the blouse laid open over my chest.

“You wear that just for me, pretty girl?” as he played with the black lace on the bra, tugging at the fabric. He palmed the breasts, squeezing.

“Obviously not, you idiot.” I said, not wanting to be nice to him, despite all the heat swirling in my belly. The handcuffs clinked against the metal of the bedframe as I forgot they were there and tried to swat his hands away.

“Bratty little miss,” he said under his breath. “Would you rather I’d gag you? Or will you play nice?”

“Fuck off.”

“Alrighty then,” and some balled up piece of fabric was shoved in my mouth. It tasted of blood and dust and fabric. Nothing in this house is sanitary, goddamnit. Otis held my face in his hand, pressing fingers harshly in the hollows of my cheeks, turning it to the side, before making me face him again. “Well, I think you look very pretty right now, doll face.”

The knife was back in his hand, and he pressed it to my breastbone. My eyes widened. This can’t be what he meant with ‘blood play’, that’s not- that’s not healthy. Otis enjoyed the horror on my face immensely, grinning wildly as he twirled the blade in his hand, point still pressed into the skin.

“Since you’re so sensitive, I’ll go easy on ya. If-.” He held up his hand, “If you ask nicely.”

I muffled pleas into the disgusting gag, and he chuckled, leaning down. “Can’t quite hear ya. What’s that?”

God, I am going to kill him for this. And I’ll enjoy it too.

“If you wanna try it my way, that’s even better,” smug bastard I will have his head- then the knife dug in, sharp sting making me press my body down into the bed, breathing sharply until the pain faded. When I looked down, it was not even a large or particularly deep cut, but blood seeped from it, the skin being thin over the breastbone. The knife, with fresh blood still on it, slid underneath my bra, pulling the fabric away from my skin. I jolted when the cold steel touched my nipple.

“You like that?”

Not that my answer mattered, I shook my head, trying to plead with my eyes for him to stop. With help of the knife, he pushed the bra cup away, his finger rubbing over the freed nipple.

“You should see how nice you look right now; all spread out for me to do as I want.”

If I had laser eyes, I would zap him to death. Yet, at the same time, his words filled me with a strange feeling. Like I was special somehow. Otis, so mean, so cruel, was spending an awful lot of time admiring me, taking his time with me. I’d be lying if I said what he was doing didn’t feel good – except the knife. He rolled my nipple between his fingers, pinching until it made me whimper. With a swift flick of the wrist, he cut the bra in two, letting the pieces fall away from the skin. A short sting of pain when he wasn’t careful enough and made a scratch on the right breast. Knife trailed down over my stomach, and upon reaching the waistband of my nylons, he stopped, looking back at me.

“Let’s get you out of those,” he said, pulling the fabric away enough for the knife to cut through like it was cutting through butter. I whimpered and pleaded, trying to struggle, the handcuffs clanking erratically. “No? No good? Let’s see what we find under your panties, why don’t we.”

He pulled the nylons all the way off despite my trashing legs. He gave a warning look and waved the knife, which made me still, pleasing him more. The panties were next, made quick work of by the blade. On the left hip, a small cut was left behind, and he pressed his fingers to it, worsening the sting.

“Och, poor Doe got a little cut,” he said, feigning pity. “Does it hurt? Why don’t I kiss it better? Why’re you crying, that usually helps, doesn’t it?”

As he lowered himself and moved down my body, I kneed him in the chest, but he only laughed, and pulled my legs apart with an iron grip. The air that hit my bare vulva shifted attention to how wet I’d gotten. My face flushed red with a surge of heat. How could all of this feel good? How could I enjoy this? Even the gag that stretched my lips apart only served to excite me further, knowing I was powerless at his hands.

Otis pressed a wet kiss to my lower belly, his hair tickling my inner thighs. Grinning up at me as he moved to the hip with the small cut, peppering kisses all along his path.

“There, that better?” And he kissed the cut again, before flattening his tongue against it, licking up the blood. It sent another jolt through me. “Or is that not where you need me, princess?”

The implication of his words, said with such glee, both infuriated and aroused me. His pupils were blown wide with arousal. Each new kiss brought his warm breath just a little closer to my core. He took another moment of hesitation, as he moved from the sensitive skin of my innermost thigh to the clit – letting his breath warm it, tease it.

“I’d wanna hear you right now, but having you like this ain’t half bad.” With the same movements as last time – ridiculous to consider it was already our second time – he flattened his tongue against my lower lips. My sigh was muffled by the gag. Pleasure curled around me as he flicked it across my clit. An added bonus was that he was quiet and no longer bullying me. As he focussed on my core, one hand curled around my thigh, fingers digging into the tender skin, his other reached up, all the way to my face. With no concern for gentleness, he pulled the rag from my mouth. My stretched out muscles took some time to adjust as I flexed them and licked my dry lips.

Otis pressed his tongue inside, shallow but hot. His free hand returned to my thigh, and he leaned up, wetness smeared across his chin. “God, are you wet.” A long finger probed in between the lower lips. “Didn’t get to do this last time, did I?” And his finger slipped inside. I sucked in a breath. The sensation was jarring in its intensity, unfamiliar, but not unpleasant. His mouth returned to suck at my clit, too harshly but simultaneously not enough.

“Bet I can beat my record,” he grinned, smugly, nipping at the tender skin of my thigh as he stared up at me. I shook my head, trying to steady my breathing, but he just grinned and returned his warm lips to my clit.

As he ate me out like he was desperate for it, his finger was joined by a second one, and they set a steady pace, curling to find that spongy bit deep inside each and every time. Curses left my mouth, and it wasn’t long before I spasmed and came, sobbing and biting the inside of my cheek to keep from moaning too loud. It felt like I snapped on the inside, the relief and the waves of sparks that flooded over me were like being washed ashore after being stranded on a stormy ocean for days. I did my best to wipe the tears that almost fell into my ear with the side of my arm. Otis continued until my whines subsided.

“Aw, look at you,” he cooed, victorious as he slipped his fingers out of my core, sitting back on his hind legs. He wiped his hand on the sheets, considering me as my chest still heaved and I slowly came down from the high. “Princess always gets what she wants, don’t she? Well, I’m thinkin’ it’s about time you return the favour.” He leaned over me to undo the cuffs, face close to mine, his scruff glistening still.

“What-” I started, pulling my hands back and sitting up, trying to ease the feeling of the cuffs away by pressing the wrists into the soft sheets.

“Oh, not so quick, it’s not over yet,” he warned, his tone darkening, closer to how it was before when he was still angry. I sighed, trying to muster up the energy after the orgasm made me feel so dizzy. “You know what to do.”

His amber eyes stared at me expectantly. When he didn’t get anything from me, he pulled me off the bed, and I yelped as my knees hit the floorboards.

“You’re not feeling appreciated?” I asked, mocking him, anger flaring as the pain did. “I never even asked you to eat me out, and now you want me-.”

As I tried getting up, he prevented me by pushing down on my shoulders, and re-captured my wrists. The dreaded sound of the handcuffs clicking shut behind my back.

“Fuck you.”

“Or does Doe not know how to suck cock? Too prudish to know how to please a man. No wonder you were here all alone. No boyfriend for poor sad Doe.” He mocked as he stood in front of me, helping himself out of his ripped pants. Scratched his stomach absentmindedly as he enjoyed the sight of me, on my knees, in front of him as I stared up at him with all the hatred I could manage.

“That’s uncalled for,” I said.

“Well, then, if you’re so good at it, suck me off like a good little cocksucker and show me that you’re not someone’s worthless girlfriend,” his tone was mocking, and he stroked his dick with bloodied hands.

“As if you’ve ever had a girlfriend,” I snapped. The urge to repeat everything that I always heard when my parents fought was strong, but I held back, despite how his words stung. The anger was getting the better of me and my arms twisted painfully in their cuffs.

His hand grabbed me by the hair and he leaned down. “Me? Oh, I’ve had plenty. And if you’re a good girl, I’ll show you how to get yourself a boyfriend.”

I hated him so much. Rage that festered as his words echoed what I’ve heard so often before – but they weren’t the same. And it was Otis. Mean, cruel Otis, who says anything just to get under your skin. Still, anger all the same. Could bite his dick off if I wanted. “What do you take me for? That I’m some blushing virgin? God- Of course I know how to suck dick.”

He laughed, a genuine laugh, satisfied with the intensity of my answer. “Well, princess, open up.”

And I did, wanting to prove myself, to shut him up, to make him see me as something other than some pathetic girl, saved by the good graces of- He was thicker than I’ve had before, the head warm on my tongue. It was salty and bitter at the same time, from the precum that beaded the tip. He was unshaven, white curls at his base. I sucked on the head, flicking my tongue against the underside. I’ll show him.

Otis groaned loudly, not holding himself back in the slightest. “Oh, good woman, I knew those pretty lips’d feel good around my cock.”

It was difficult to not smile at his praise, so I did, trying to hide it by taking more of him into my mouth. This was better than hearing his cruel words by far. The glint in his eye said he noticed, and he bucked his hips. Before I could set a pace, he held my head in his hands and slid himself in and out, slow enough. Each flick of my tongue, each time I passed the ridge before the head with my lips, he moaned. Filthy praises left his mouth.

“You ain’t half bad at this,” he said, then moaning loudly, his hips stuttering from how good he felt. “Ah, fuck. Always knew you had it in you, princess. God, fuck.”

He lost his composure not long after and used my mouth, losing all control, groaning filthy things as my teeth scraped his length with the roughness of his thrusts. His cock twitched and I knew he was close, and before I could prepare myself, my mouth filled with his sticky, bitter cum.

He moaned softly as he pulled out, saliva spilling on the floor. “Now swallow,” he said, noticing I hadn’t yet. His hands left my hair, and he rubbed his face, sighing so deeply, like the weight of the world had been lifted from his shoulders.

Leaning forward, I spit his cum in a blob on the floor, trying not to make a face from the slimy texture. Having recovered a little, Otis helped me stand up, knees sore, left foot asleep, and pulled me to him by the back of my neck like a ragdoll. My hands were still bound so I needed him for balance. His expression was soft. Not minding the stain on the floor, he plucked up the rag that was in my mouth with his toes and dropped it on the cum, so we wouldn’t step in it.

“See, we get along so much better when we both get what we want,” he murmured. “You did really well for me today.”

With those words lingering in my mind, he closed the gap between us and kissed me. Our first kiss. His thumb was rough as it stroked my jaw, but tender. His chapped lips were warm, it felt good. I was breathless from the intensity of him within seconds. His other arm snaked around my back, pressing me into him, he was warm. So warm. I felt dizzy just from touching him. As his mouth opened as his tongue slipped between my lips with ease, it felt like I could pass out. That even despite how cruel and mean he was, he was tender now. He cared. For me. He enjoyed pushing and prodding me, but never went quite too far – and is now smoothing it over with unexpected, soft words. Our tongues circled each other and he let me explore him. The cuffs clinked as I forgot about them and tried reaching for him, to hold onto him too.

He broke the kiss, chuckling softly, leaning his forehead on mine, our breath mingling between us. “How about I undo those cuffs and we have some rest?”

I nodded, still breathless, world spinning, the center of it were his eyes. He pressed a kiss to my nose and reached for the keys.

#otis driftwood #otis driftwood x oc #house of 1000 corpses #house of 1000 corpses au #manon “doe eyes” driftwood #manon driftwood

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moxleyhorror · 11 months

Text

Dating Otis Driftwood

So after reading this post

https://www.tumblr.com/houseofthegeneticcarnivals/718578599485227008/a-twisted-love-story-otis-driftwood-x-reader?source=share

(I'd suggest reading that before this) I got inspired to write a little about Otis and my OC Mercy. After a lot of writing, deleting, writing more, deleting again. I decided I'd take the original post and write short little drabbles/fics to go with each part. Now its not my best work, but I'm happy with it enough to post. I did go a little OOC with Otis, but I tried to stay true to his character as much as I could. I ended up combining number 3 and 5 together, because I think they fit well.

Thank you @houseofthegeneticcarnivals (The original post creator) for inspiring me, and thank you @myers-meadow for helping me figure out the complex emotions of Otis Driftwood.

Unconventional Courtship

“You see! This is why a chainsaw is not an effect method of killing people” Mercy popped a piece of popcorn into her mouth, “But chainsaws are messy and fun” Otis shrugged, “Only if the victim is already captured, don’t go running around in the dark with a huge chainsaw, that’s exactly how you’re going to get injured”, “Talking of weapons, I got you something” Otis stood up and walked to the kitchen, returning a moment later holding something behind his back. Mercy knelt on the couch, her eyes lighting up as Otis held out a large, bowie knife, the handle was cherry wood with an eagle carved into it. Mercy took the knife, twirling it in her hands, “Its beautiful” she said, “Thank you!”. Otis sat back down, “I had to trade with that Stucky, Spaulding’s pal, he’s into some fucked up shit” he laughed. Mercy kissed Otis on the cheek and then settled back into his side, admiring the shine of the blade. The pair fell into silence as the chase on the TV screen continued. The house was unusually quiet, so Otis and Mercy had taken the opportunity to watch Texas Chainsaw Massacre on the VCR. Mercy rolled her eyes and mumbled something under her breath, “What’s the matter now?” Otis sighed, feigning annoyance, but deep down he enjoyed listening to Mercy’s twisted commentary, “Why did they have to kill the hitchhiker guy? He was such a good character, and now he can’t be in the sequel” Mercy pouted, “Who knows, maybe he has a twin brother we don’t know about yet” Otis shrugged. Mercy put down her bowl of popcorn and crawled onto Otis’s lap, “Maybe you should chase me around with a chainsaw” she ran the tip of the blade up the side of his throat, “Then when you catch me, you can tie me up and have your wicked way with me”. Otis chuckled and dug his fingertips into Mercy’s waist, “Or we could skip the chainsaw and go straight to the tying up” …

2. Dark and Dangerous

The drinks were flowing, and the air was heavy with cigarette smoke. It had been a good evening, dancing, laughing, drinking. Otis, Baby, Mercy, and RJ had decided to visit a bar, to drink away their problems and have a good time. At that moment the girls were dancing, having picked up two men to flirt with. Otis watched from a table in the back, his trousers becoming tight as he watched Mercy grinding against the stranger, hands groping her smooth skin. Otis enjoyed watching Mercy with other men, it gave him a sense of pride to know that he had Mercy 24/7, and they only had her for a mere moment. “Won’t your boyfriend mind?” the man whispered into Mercy’s ear as she ground her ass into him, “Of course not, If he minded you wouldn’t be breathing right now” Mercy leaned her head back against his shoulder as he chuckled nervously, not sure if she was joking or not, “I’ll sneak out the back, you follow in a moment” Mercy winked at him and skipped off, looking around before slipping out the back door. She didn’t have to wait long until the man joined her. His hands immediately coming to paw at her breasts, his lips attacking her neck. Mercy moaned softly, her eye lids fluttering closed. Suddenly, the man stopped. Mercy opened her eyes to see the man’s face had fallen, from a lust filled smile, to utter fear. Then he dropped to the floor, revealing Otis standing behind him, a knife in his hand, dripping blood, “Hey mama” he smiled. Mercy scowled and glanced down the alley they were standing in, “What did you do that for?”, “I changed my mind about him, I didn’t like his face” Otis shrugged. Mercy sighed and bent down, reaching into the man’s pocket, “What are you doing?” Otis asked, “He might as well pay for the next round of drinks” …

3. A Savage Sense of Humour

Mercy wiped the mixture of blood and sweat from her forehead, her breathing heavy as she stepped back from the scene in front of her. Blood covered every inch of her, pieces of flesh, and splinters of bone littered the floor and even the walls, the lifeless bodies of 2 young men lay in fragments in the middle of the room. Otis opened the door, eyes wide at the mess, “What happened here?” he asked. Mercy didn’t take her gaze off the bodies, her eye twitching, “They called me crazy” she spoke quietly. Otis laughed and stepped beside Mercy, taking the axe from her hands, “You know we are all a little crazy in this house mama”. Mercy looked up at him, blood dripping down her face, “No, not crazy” she said, “Chaotic, dark, even twisted, but not crazy”. Otis put his arm around Mercy’s waist, “Maybe we should change your name, because Mercy is definitely not something you give” he laughed again, “We could call you psycho, but then you’d have to start dressing up in your mama’s skin and killing people in the shower” Mercy chuckled, “I can think of better things to do in the shower” she bit her lip, “Well why didn’t you say something sooner!” Otis cried, gripping Mercy’s hand and dragging her towards the bathroom…

4. An Unbreakable Bond and a Love Beyond Sanity

Otis collapsed onto the bed beside Mercy, spent and breathless, “We’re good at that” he laughed, “That’s for damn sure” Mercy reached up to grab a joint from the bedside cabinet, lighting it and taking a long drag before passing it to Otis, “You trust me, don’t you?” Mercy was taken aback by the question, “Of course, why?”, “Well, I was thinking, I’d really like it if you were to take my name” Mercy sat up, looking down at her lover in confusion, “Do you mean like marriage?” she asked. Otis shrugged and sat up, “If you want to call it that, would be funny to go around calling you my wife” he laughed, “But no sentimental bullshit, no standing in front of some fucking preacher man, saying I do”. Mercy thought for a moment, “Mercy Driftwood” she grinned, “I do think we should mark the occasion though” Mercy leaned down and pulled her knife from under the mattress, crawling to straddle Otis’s lap. She took Otis’s arm, and delicately cut an ‘M’ into the soft skin of his wrist, then sliced a nice deep cut across his palm before handing him the knife, “Now you do me” she offered her arm and Otis carved an ‘O’ and cut her palm, “Now we do this” Mercy clasped Otis’s hand, pressing the cuts together, “Now we will always be connected, by blood”. Otis smiled, and the two cupped each other’s faces in their hands, spreading the blood across their cheeks, “I thought I said no sentimental bullshit, my wife”, Mercy smirked, “It’s sentimental in our own way, my husband” the two stared into each other’s eyes for a moment, before bursting into laughter, Mercy leaning in to press a soft kiss to Otis’s lips.

#otis driftwood #baby firefly #fanfiction #house of 1000 corpses #devils rejects #3 from hell

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