#Otis B Driftwood x Reader Excerpt

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Otis B Driftwood x Reader || Excerpt

Plot: Just a moment after he tells you he's gonna keep you around. Not a whole lotta context 😅

Warnings: It's Otis B Driftwood. I don't even know where to start 😅

Otis' lips leave your lips feeling hot and bruised. The taste of metal remains on your tongue, forced there by his smothering kiss. His fingers leave a dirty smudge on your jaw as he roughly let's you go and stands up to his full height while you remain, sat on the bed. "Yeah... I think I'm gonna keep you, doll. Oh- I'm definitely gonna keep you."

"I hate you." You snap at him with his grimy sheets fisted in your clenched fingers; every bit of fury and disgust you felt looking at him cooking in your words. And everything else, too. The fear, the horror, the other things that you haven't thought about. That you're afraid to.

Otis doesn't seem too bothered by what you say though, a grimy smirk flickering across his face along with a chuckle. Your words change nothing, for him. You dont matter, not like that. You matter, your being here with him; his secret toy all for himself; but your opinions? What you want? Eh, not important. He shakes his head, strolling off to a chest of drawers. You're also wrong, he thinks, pulling out a nasty looking serrated knife. But whatever. You'll figure that out, eventually.

Your heartbeat jumps to life inside your chest, pounding inside your body, screaming to fly out and take off.

That doesnt stop you from spewling, though. You don't want him to know how scared of him you are, how terrified. ... He thinks that's real fucken cute. "You're an evil freak. If you think I want to stay here, you're out of your mind- "

"Obviously I'm out of my fucking mind. Look at me. Do I look sane to you??"

He turns around, the knife in his strong hand pointed downwards. Tucks it into the back of his jeans causing you to grimace. "Anyway," He shrugs, leaning back to pick up a beer can that's been on that dresser for who-knows-how long and take a swig so that some dribbles down the corner of his mouth. He wipes it with the back of his hand and drops the now empty can on the carpet; crushing it under his boot on his way back to you.

When he sits down close beside you, so your hips and your arms brush together making you shiver, he leans in so you can smell his metallic, now stale beer addled breath and tucks some of your hair ever-so-gently behind your ear making you wince this time. He's being too soft with you, and the thick material band around his wrist is damp and stinks. You also can't stop thinking about the jagged knife in the ass of his jeans. Surely he's getting cut, sitting with it like that?? Doesn't he care????

No, of course not.

"You hate me, huh?... " He whispers, smirking like he knows something you-fucking-dont. Which is infuriating. "... well, maybe. Probably. Whatever. But hey- " He leans in so close you can taste his breath, and try not to gag. "I think you're gonna like it here, baby. Eventually."

"What???" How could he possibly think- After he took you and killed your friends-

"We'll turn you crazy over time. A regular part of the family. Then you'll like it here." With a taught smile, he leans down and presses a hot, rough, open-mouthed kiss to your exposed neck; licking your skin and sucking like he couldn't help himself from getting a taste, before looking back up at your face again. "Then you'll admit y'want me. Promise."

Then he flashes a quick smile, and leaves the dank, messy room. Locks it behind him.

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Otis B Driftwood x Reader || Excerpt

Plot:

Nasty Pimp: *Tries to put hands on you* Otis (Who is nastier): 💥!🖕🖕🏒!🔨!🔨!... 🩸.. 🩸.. 🩸...

Warnings!!!!: The setting is a nasty home-brothel, the main characters are you, Otis and a gross pimp called Ritchie Fat-Tits McCoy, and uh- oh yeah, genitalia mutilation. I think that covers it.

"Hey- what do you we have, here?"

"Otis!" You cry, relief flooding through you as you slip away from the guy (Ritchie 'Fat-Tits' McCoy, brothel owner and yours and Otis' and the others' host for tonight's night of depravity) and jumping up from the couch which you're pretty sure is the home to some feral mammal by the smell and the... movement. Otis' dark, heavy-set eyes follow you carefully and non-too-happily as you get behind him, where you feel safe, before roaming down to Ritchie again.

"... So? Y'gonna answer me?"

Ritchie does not understand the peril he is in right now, grinning lazily back at Otis. "Aw, mate don't be like that. The bitch and I were just talkin'- You cant blame me for gettin' a few feels in too; What can I say?" His eyes float over to your thighs shifting in his mammalian infested couch to make his bulge more comfortable. "I'm an animal."

Your lips form a firm line, your eyes hardening as you look away; Feeling sick.

... Otis gives a huff, almost a chuckle, a sound that could almost denote pleasantness if you didn't know him well- or even not so well- or you didn't just look at his face. You don't need to look at his face, because you do know the bastard well, but you can picture it; An evil sneer dragging his face apart and a murderous sparkle in his dead-eyes as he glances around the room . "... cant blame you, huh?? Ehh, well... "

"No harm no foul- Didnt even get my fingers wet." Ritchie shrugs, still not getting it. He is two seconds from irreparable brain damage, or losing his nut sack- if he's lucky. "Just c'mon, siddown with me and- hey, Cass! Grab us 2 warm beers, and don't you fucken spit in them again yeah? Not into that, no- I'm not into that fucken shit!"

You watch as Otis' eyes flicker to a broken hockey stick, just one of the useless, dank trash-things thrown around in this shit-hole; The edge sharp, jagged and dipped in some dark mystery liquid. Casually, he picks it up and you peer around him to catch a smirk on his scary face. Oh, no.

"Ritch, you have got some balls on you." Otis comments, hitting one palm with the end of the hockey gently; Testing its durability.

"... huh?"

Then there was screaming. Blood curdling, all-consuming man-screaming. With one calculated and yet savage thrust, Otis has forced the infected, jagged end of that old broken hocket stick directly into Ritchie's bulge. And its like something popped, because with a crack and a squish, there's suddenly blood, everywhere.

You just stand there, eyes wide and frozen. You were expecting it, but its still horrible.

After twisting the jagged wood in his groin, Otis yanks it out and drops the weapon off to the side; Every movement methodical, and tired. Almost like he didn't even take joy in what he's just done, he just felt like it needed to be done. Eyes flickering over to him, you reach for his arm and wrap you arms around it, almost in a traumatised trance.

He allows you to curl around his arm, but his attention is still on Ritch- writhing and hands twitching towards the bloody, meaty mess. Still screaming and yelling.

"What can I say? Heheh." Finally, a genuine grin slips across Otis' mouth. "I'm an animal, Ritch! We're all just animals, right?" Suddenly the smile's wiped off his face again, as you watch; Your fingers tighten on him simultaneously. He truly is, completely insane. "Cant fucken blame me."

Ritchie doesn't say a damn thing, though you aren't sure he could if he wanted to. Out of the corner of your eye, you catch sight of both Spaulding and Baby sighing and dropping whatever they were doing; Ready to go now since Otis ruined the fun. While all the blood in his body seems to gush out of the filthy bastards privates and he grows sickly pale, Otis shakes you off his arm abruptly, just to throw it over your shoulders, instead, pulling you warm into his body. He smells and theirs old and fresh blood alike soaking his shirt, but you're used to it. And you're happy to have your freak wrapped around you, protecting you, making you warm.

"C'mon now, sweethart- I'm sure we can find somethin better to do tonight." Turning you both, Otis starts towing you out of the gross little home brothel. "See ya, Ritch. Have a fucken night."

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You want old men thoughts?? Hmm.... Right now I can't think of much, but I'll give you the little things I got XD

- Imagine in the Norman and Inkubus imagine you made, it's actually Norman that gets you first. You two have an established relationship before Inkubus came along, and started trying to seduce you. You insist to Norman that this new guy is 'just a friend', but even blind he can see that this guy has no good intentions towards his little wife.

- Imagine that you were the one victim of the Fireflies that managed to escape, and now Otis is obsessed with 'finishing what he started' with you. At first, it was with the intention to kill, but he just can't stop thinking about you lately (I'm not sure how in character this is, but I hope you still enjoy it XD)

- Ok this isn't sexual, but imagine you and Jim share a bed together, and in the middle of the night, you at first feel your husband shaking. You look over your shoulder to see his still sleeping face, and it looks scared. Pained. And you hear him muttering... You know what he's dreaming about. It's the same dream he's had ever since that God forsaken poaching trip he went on that almost killed him.

It's not much, but I hope you enjoy these imagines! ^^

OLD MEN-

Norman Nordstrom x Reader x Inkubus-

I loveee this prompt XDD Its like:

Y/N: *Introducing their husband and their nice new friend 'Klaus'* And like I said Norm, we're just goin' to the shops for a bit. Norman, getting bad vibes off of this... 'Klaus': I don't want you goin anywhere with him. Y/N: ... :D *w h a t... * Y/N: *Eyeroll* Don't worry Norm!, I love you, Klaus is just a friend ^^ Inkubus, who has been quiet up until that moment.: ... excuse me I'm what-

OR

Y/N, explaining to Norman who's at the door (You're lovely new friend obviously XD ) and that you two are just going out shopping: Don't worry Norm!, I love you, Klaus is just a friend ^^ He doesn't have any weird intentions, don't be possessive. Norman: Hmm... I gues- Inkubus: *'Absentmindedly' tapping his foot on the porch outside- you cant hear it but Norman with his exceptional senses sure can. And why is it significant?... its Morse code for 'OH YES. I DO.' *

Otis B Driftwood x Reader-

Its totally in character!! I can absolutely see Otis being pissed and obsessing until, like, Baby mentions that she swears he has a crush~~ And he obviously curses at her and the fight because no way in hell does he have a fucken crush, but then when Baby skips off- he has an epiphany~ Like hm... (: Maybe I do have a thing on the slippery little fuck-cunt... Oh, heh heh, even better.

CUZ HE KNOWS, he KNOWS, being in a relationship with him is the worse sentence he could have ever dreamt up even on the purest of LSD.

Warnings; Capture, restraints, (Light) non-con touching/sexual assault and heavy allusions to rape. Just because I wrote this under your ask, does not mean you have to read it if you are uncomfortable. Technically all this can be sub-categorised under Otis' name, but I want to be clear XD My head goes to a darkkk place when I write Otis, okay? I'm sorry-

The old fucker's huge hand was tight over your mouth and nose as he leant in and grinned with dirty teeth at you. "... congrats, for what its worth. Its never taken me this long to find someone. Heheh, you're a good runner, gingerbread. Too bad you're not so good at hiding."

In responce you struggle once again against the restraints keeping you down on your knees; bare skin digging into the gravel parking lot beneath you. The tag ties around your wrists keep your arms stuck painfully behind your back as well as your ankles rubbing raw against each other.

"... lemme explain to you why you don't wanna fight me, alright?... " His hand squeezes you jaw, and you just wonder why he seems in such good spirits. The last time you saw him you were in the bed of a truck racing away from his crazy ass Texas chainsaw-style and he looked about ready to rip your throat out with his gross teeth. What changed? Why is he smiling, now? "... you see, uh... oh shit, I'm a little nervous!" there is not a single sign of nervousness in his eyes; Just a cruel amusement. "Okay, here we go- I like you." Immediately you try to struggle again but his other hand clamps around your arm and holds you still- and close. "Yeah. And well I usually don't take so well to, um... you know, little fucken bitches like you gettin' away... ehhhhh, I'm mellowing out in my old age, I guess. So! Here's the deal,

"I'll play nice. You know, I wont uh... hurt you, I guess. I promise, okay? Scouts honour, or whatever. But you... you gotta play nice too, k? You gotta... " Otis eyes flicker, moving purposefully from where they had been steadfast to yours for the past few minutes... down your body. The hand on your arm moves and ever so gently his knuckles graze against your chest. You jaw would drop if it wasn't restrained. You would shiver. You would hit him. With another creepy chuckle, Otis gives a grimy smirk to you. "You gotta be realll nice, to old Otis. Yeah?

"That's the only way yer gettin' outta this alive, sweet thing. Take it or leave it; its up to you. See? I'm nice!"

Jim Bickerman x Reader-

That's okay, it doesn't need to be sexual! We also love old men XD

We have had the comedy, we have had the horror... now we get the angst and the fluff XD Here we go-

You're slowly roused from sleep by the cold, Jim assumedly hogging the blanket (Though that's not a thing he does, he usually doesn't even care about the blanket) so you sit up turn your head to look down at him; And immediately you wince.

"Oh, no... "

With his good hand clamped over his own mouth and his skin looking pale, its obvious exactly what he's dreaming about. His eyebrows are furrowed in his sleep and the lines in his forehead and the bridge of his nose are deep, his breathing is haggard and you know it has to be a nightmare.

This has happened before, ever since that trip back to Blackwater you wish he hadn't taken, and every time seems even worse then the one before. And they change him; The bags under his eyes haven't ever been deeper then they are these days; at least not as long as you've known him.

The worst part is knowing you cant wake him up, you can just be useless there beside him wondering what he's seeing. What part of him the teeth are ripping apart this time. Whether he's getting out alive, this time.

Taking a deep breath yourself, you carefully peel his fingers off his mouth so he can breath properly, holding it tight in your own hand instead. And then you just sit there, in the dark (The only light in the room being what the moon creates, coming in through the window Jim broke a couple days ago.), squeezing his hand and hoping he'll wake up soon. That he'll wake up.

When finally he lurches up beside you, breathing heavily as he wakes up and crushing your fingers so hard his knuckles go white and so do yours, you just let him calm down on his own. Just hold his hand and try to give him space while not giving him space at all; wanting him to have room, but not wanting him to feel alone. You're right here and you're not going anywhere. You feel absolutely useless, but... you're not going anywhere.

A few heavy moments pass where he just breaths, and you just watch him with worry-filled eyes, until the pulse you can feel in his wrist returns to close-to-normal, and you give his hand one final, hard squeeze before letting it go. Instead you silently enfold enfold him in your arms, him immediately dissolving into you; wrapping his arms around your waist and burying his face into your shoulder, slowly taking some more relaxed breaths.

"Heh... not a fan of those nightmares peanut but I gotta say I like the service I get afterwards."

"... are you okay?... "

"I'm fine." He always says he's fine, but fine would mean no more nightmares. Jim says that he's fine when he has shrapnel in his knuckles, Jim said he was fine the other day after he fell off the roof- you do not trust his fine, at all. Crazy bastard that he is; His 'fine' is completely without basis in reality.

"... you're fine?" You ask, an obviously-dubious look on your face as you lean back and tilt your head at him.

Jim smirks, something you can just see in the dim-lit room. "With my flask and possibly a little under-the-covers action sweetheart I could be better then fine." The smirk transforms into a whole grin and you cant help but roll your eyes; Grinning yourself a little, despite yourself.

He's nuts, but you kinda love him for it. "How about water, and some ice cream?"

Eyes hardening, Jim gives you a 'you cant fix my liver' kind of look. You're very familiar with it; It makes you want to laugh. "How about homebrew and ice cream?- and, also, where the hell are we gettin' this ice cream from missy?? I didn't think we had any more. Either you're makin' empty promises to an old cripple with ptsd or you've been holdin' out on me."

-oh damn. Quickly you let go of him and hop outta bed. "... uh... well no we dont have ice cream... not that you know of, anyway." Avoiding eye contact, you busy yourself collecting the half-empty cups of water off of both of your night stands. "So you- uh- wanted moonshine?? Great, sounds fantastic, lets go- "

He's not to be deterred, an amused glint in his eye as he watches you. "Where are you keeping this ice cream, dumpling? I know theirs none in our freezer."

"Uhhhm... "

"Hmm?"

"... fine I have a secret mini freezer in the back. You kept stealing my Ben & Jerries, I had no other choice! Now, do you want some or not? Because if not, I'll just go eat it myself!" With that, you grab a discarded flannel off the floor for the chill and rush out of the bedroom- but its not long before you hear the sound of his prosthetic leg hit the ground.

... Its not long later after that when Jim has you backed up against the cold brick wall just outside the back door; Leant in close and with one hand and one hook on your waist. As well as a devils look in his eye that makes you grin under its scrutiny.

"I believe we made a vow, sweetheart, somethin' like what's mine is yours??... "

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This but in an Otis B Driftwood fic is making me feel soooo soft this morning.