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jokeringcutio · 1 year

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Otis B. Driftwood X F. Reader - Migraine (Explicit 18+ ficlet)

Fandom: House of 1000 Corpses, Pairing: Otis B. Driftwood x Reader Warnings: Period/Blood, Menstruation Kink, Migraine!Reader, Headache!Reader. Dub-con situation, Dom/Sub tones, Explicit Smut, 18+ material, Dark Romance stuff. One-shot/Ficlet/Drabble written on a whim for my dear @myers-meadow 💜Hopefully this will elevate some of your pain.

Otis B Driftwood x Reader -> Headache.

The ache was incredibly bad today. The blinding light was too bright for your eyes, the sounds the other family members made were too loud for your ears, and the smell of the decaying bodies was too putrid for your sensitive nose.

You rolled over in the bed, curtains drawn so you basked in a peaceful silent darkness. A breath of relief escaped your lips. Your arm was drawn over your head, elevating some of the pain you felt like a band around your forehead, pushing against your temples, stabbing into your skull on occasion.

All you wished for was a little peace and quiet. A wish that was denied when Otis came barging in under loud noises. The soles of his boots creaked, his clothes rustled, the gun in his hands clicked and he was cursing. None of it quiet.

He was followed by Baby who wasn’t nearly as loud, but neither was she quiet. She chuckled as she came to stand in the doorway and observed you. “Bloody dark,” you heard Otis say, then flinched when he switched the light on. You drew your arm even tighter over your face, covering your eyes which you squeezed shut tight.

“I need some goddamn release, babe,” you heard him say. Then felt how his hands were upon your thighs, prying them apart until he pushed himself roughly in between them. “Open up those pretty eyes, sweet cheeks.”

When you refused, you felt his grip falter. “Open up, sweetpie,” he tried again, his voice growing darker. Like a warning.

You heard a huff, then felt his grip on you tighten.

Behind Otis, you heard Baby push herself away from the doorpost. “She ain’t into it, Otis,” she said. You heard her footsteps and the sound of her voice coming nearer to you.

“What’s wrong?” Otis asked, but it was met with silence. “Is she broken or something?” Must be to Baby. “Are you broken?” Otis asked gruffly, this time obviously to you. You felt a slap against your inner thigh, then felt how he moved out from between your legs with a growl.

“Let me guess,” Baby said, her sweet voice near your ear. She must be leaning forward to you, you guessed, for you felt her hot breath roll against your ear. “You’re having a headache,” here she hesitated to give you a once-over, then licked her lips. “And you’re on your period.”

You grunted, and Baby straightened again with a smile. “See!” she said, sounding way too happy. “I am a real people person!” Yeah, when those people are toys you can play with or dead, you thought grumpily.

But the fact was, you were suffering from a really nasty migraine attack. It had crawled upon you all too slowly, and yet you hadn’t noticed it had until it was there. Your head hurt, it throbbed and was pierced all at once. Your tummy hurt, your abdomen squeezing painfully while the first of your monthly blood was violently brought forth. Really nothing was pleasant about this situation. You felt tired, angry, sick. Moody to a point you didn’t even want to meet yourself at this stage. Could they not fuck off and leave you here to die?

Well, not really die, but… You felt horrible, and not at all in the mood for anything. You just wanted to lie there until the pain inside your head faded and the ache in your belly subsided.

“Then we can fuck in the dark,” Otis said, the words instantly followed by the clicking of the light switch. Darkness surrounded you once more. You heard Baby click her tongue, probably shaking her head.

“Yeah, you do whatever,” you heard her say. “I’m off to my own room. Come join me if you want some daylight fun.” Then she was gone.

The bed dipped again as Otis came to sit over you, a knee pressed at either side. He dipped his head forth. Warm hands grabbed your wrists, pulling them away from your face until your arms were trapped above your head. You felt how his long hair tickled your skin before his warm lips were placed over yours, capturing them in a kiss.

So he was truly doing this? You gasped once the kiss broke and opened your eyes to stare up at him in the darkness the room provided. The vague outline of his shape was visible, like an angry grey silhouette that moved in the dark. Only, his shape was filled with colorful blocks, little colored lights that your head filled in despite the darkness. A method of torture, you were sure. A reason you hated to have headaches like these. Even with the lights out, your eyes still managed to hurt, and in effect, so did your head.

“You’d better not be fucking with me,” the angry growl came from above you, where Otis sat up to take off his top. You could hear him unzip his pants before his hands sought yours to unzip them as well. He started to tug them down your hips. “If this headache stuff is just bullshit,” he warned you.

“It’s real,” you croaked, then flinched as you tried to look at him. “I wouldn’t fake-“ you flinched again, then tried to wiggle when you noticed he was trying to take your underpants down. The attempt was miserable. Your hips hardly moved. Your head spun too wildly to coordinate your body.

Then you felt how his hand came to rest between your thighs, pushing them apart. A slap of his palm against your bare cunt alerted you that he had succeeded in taking your pants off. A growl escaped your lips as you arched your back again. A finger slid roughly into your slit, pressing deep until you felt his knuckle. His nail scraped past your sensitive walls that instantly fluttered around the digit, earning you a rough laugh. “Not want this, eh?” you heard Otis say. “Liar.”

You gasped again, arching your back. A wet squelch was heard when he retracted his finger till only the tip was inside, then he pushed in again.

“I said no,” you gasped, breathlessly. “I’m not feeling well. I’m bleeding.”

“So?”

That caught you speechless. Because indeed. So? So what? Why wasn’t he bothered by it?

And then you reminded yourself who you were dealing with here. If anyone wouldn’t be repulsed by blood, it would be this artistic murderer. While you were still in a daze, he kneeled between your legs. A sinful sound came from your cunt when his lips engulfed your sensitive bud. You felt his lips upon you, joining his finger while he pumped, eagerly suckling your clit and licking your cunt. as if he were hungry for your blood. You gasped, this time in pleasure, then you moved your arms down until your hands came to rest on the top of his head. Your fingers curled in the strands there before tightening and pulling him closer, effectively forcing him to slobber and suck and nip at your aching cunt until you had your fill.

He lapped at you eagerly, desperate for the nectar that spilled from your core. Slick mingled with blood. Your womb clamped painfully inside of you, but the pleasure was making the sensation more and more bearable until you’d forgotten your period pain completely.

You were moaning, guiding Otis up and down and closer. His nose against your pussy lips while his tongue dove in deep. His finger was joined by another. The two thick digits curled and twisted inside of you. And then, when he considered you ready enough for him, he jerked from your grip and sat up between you.

He propped your legs up and over his shoulders and nearly folded you in half as he bent over you. The tip of his hard cock, throbbing and dripping pre-cum, pressed against your opening, then slid in without little resistance. Both of you cried out in tandem while you felt him bottom out. A growl escaped Otis, and you saw the white glint of his gritted teeth in the dark.

Otis’s hands were upon your arms, gripping you while he set a steady pace. Slick sounds filled the room while you shortly worried about staining the bed. A stupid notion, you thought. The bed had been stained by the blood of so many others before you.

Otis was a murderer after all. An Artist. A lover of gore.

No wonder he took you with such fervor while your blood spread across his shaft. Your pussy was sensitive, more than you remembered it to have ever been before. It pulsed around his shaft, milking him, begging for each and everything he could give.

You heard how it affected him. How his low grunts and husky curses became more passionate and more desperate with each thrust and with each pull of your cunt. All too soon, he had you arching your back in pleasure while an orgasm washed over you. Your nipples peeked against your shirt, your cunt clenched down tight. And still he kept thrusting.

“Fuck,” he groaned. It took him more effort to enter you when you clamped down on him like a vice. He had to forcibly pull back his cock and slam it in again, time after time, until the head of his cock hit a pleasurable spot deep inside and your walls started to flutter again.

Your toes curled with delight. He fucked you through your first orgasm, and onto the next. You bit your lip to keep from crying out, but he was thrusting mercilessly, pounding you deep and hard, battering that sweet spot deep inside of your cunt until you saw stars again. This time not from the migraine. These were the stars of horny pleasure. Stars of eroticism. Of sheer luck.

Of him giving you his essence.

Because you felt it. Felt how his hips stuttered and how his warm cum shot deep inside. You heard his hoarse yell, the obscenities he uttered while his hands sought your face and cupped your cheeks.

Then you felt how his lips captured yours in a kiss. His hips pressed tight against yours, his softening cockhead nudging your cervix with the last spasms of his orgasm. Then he slid out.

“Fuck, I think I’ve found a new favorite pastime,” Otis said while he sat up and ran a hand through his hair. You squinted your eyes when he clicked on the bedside lamp, and quickly hid your face behind your arms again. Okay, so the migraine hadn’t gone away. But the pain in your lower region had been replaced by the soft tingling of your afterglow. That was an improvement.

You watched through half-lidded eyes how Otis smirked down at you. He was still undressed, pants tucked to his ankles while yours were discarded halfway across the room. Then he bent over and dipped a finger into a pool of juices that stained the sheets. You watched, mesmerized, as he lifted his finger. He held it in front of his eyes to study it. The bright red blood glinted in the light of the lamp.

Then his eyes turned to you, a similar glint within them, while a smile spread on his lips. “Oh, we’re definitely gonna do this again, pumpkin.” You parted your lips to protest, but he saw the attempt and quickly interfered. “Na-ah,” he tusked you patronizingly so. “Need I remind you? You’re mine.”

And then he was upon you again. His lips ravishing yours in a fiery kiss. Besotted with twisted love and hungry for more of your blood.

He was inside of you before you could protest. And you knew, your life would never be the same again.

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