#Slasher oc

[nevermore-ocs]

your Slasher ocs x Chubby reader hcs 🔫 hand them over (please)

(This is gonna be the FIRST PART OUT OF, HOWEVER MANY, I just got way too many horror and horror adjacent characters to comply them all to ONE list, so this one is gonna have 3 and then we'll go on from there!!)

-North-

-Being as mute as he is, North is a master of communicating in numerous other means

-Ever observant, this towering powerhouse of a woodsman finds himself regularly staring at you whenever he can't touch you right away

-Working outside on the outer perimeter of his self claimed property? He always catches his gaze cutting away from his work to wordlessly gawk at you sat patiently on the porch of his abode, he can't help himself

-The way that your plushy curves and hips and sides, thighs and all can be hugged by clothing given if their more form fitting or not is enough to drive him up a wall in the best way possible, and while he may not ever be inclined to speak, just eyeing your stretch marks and belly when you stretch and your shirt is gracious enough to him to allow him to snag a few peeks, his hushed breath often hitches in his throat at just how attractive you are to him

-And then there's his hands

-Calloused, rough, and powerful, however, he's so delicate with his touches with you

-They're, greedy, and drawn out. Gliding his palms over the front of your thighs, the sides of your hips, your sides, they're never too rough to cause you any pain, of course, but he'll pause his hand's movements to let the tips of his digits dip into your flesh and relish at how your pillowy body always fills out his awaiting palm

-And of course he does indeed pepper your stretch marks and belly with kisses, he knows that sometimes that can be a problem area for you to make peace with somedays, so he wants to be diligent with how much he adores it cause there's always just more of you to give love to

-Ivy Darrow-

S/i: "Whew, is it hot in here or is it just me?" Ivy: "It's you--" S/i: "Wha-" Ivy: "WHAT-"

-Seriously, I cannot stress ENOUGH on how just being in your presence ups her dorkiness factor past like 11, like the first time y'all even met she had a comical fumbling pratfall befitting something of Hanna-Barbera cartoons as she clumsily attempted to catch the spatula that slipped out of her hand

-Sickly sweet and abundant in her praises, there's never a day where she doesn't tell you just how insanely beautiful she'll always find you

-Your number one and biggest fan in the history of ever, she always encourages you to wear and dress yourself in things that'll show off your shape more, and she barely even regards her own pleasure in witnessing you in such an outfit, she wants you to feel like a person who can indulge on things marketed to slimmer people cause you're as much as a person as they are, and don't need to "fit" in

-But yes she absolutely did nearly faint when she saw you in a crop top, and, raising herself back up off of the mattress, she made grabby hands at you, because belly, obviously--

-You did have to partially restrain her from near mauling someone when she overheard the insult thinly guised as a compliment "you're so brave for wearing that", but you know she always means as well as she can be

-But days like that is when she layers on the praises, the sweet words, the compliments, even more than she already does and she does it plenty enough as is, you're her favorite person ever, legit her dream partner and her second half, and whilst she loathes the demonic genes of the Mordeo tainting her blood, she's not at all ashamed in letting that side out if it meant defending you

-Salem Abbott-

-Salem is...nice?? In his own right?? If you can label the shit that comes out of his garbage disposal of a mouth "nice"

-"I fuck with fat bitches heavy, thanks-" And then he promptly spanks your ass as you stand next to him, I-

-Your fault, you chose him, you know what you signed up for--

-You gave him a little bit too much credit to not be painfully obvious with him staring at you, but there's plenty moments throughout a day where you can feel his stare locking onto you, and if you even turn to face him to meet his gaze, his eyes linger knowingly for a few moments or so before they cut upwards onto yours and he doesn't say anything right away, rather, he allows this shit-eating grin to spread across his lips and he gives you a little wave with his fingers

-"My eyes are up here, Sal-", "I've already made my decision-"

-Despite all that, Salem, if you could believe it or not, isn't a creep or weird, or anything malicious like that, with you ever

-He's already experienced how dangerous someone can be when they just want to take, and take, and take something like that from someone, there are a multitude of moments where humanity does breach the surface of his sociopathy

-Kisses against the back of your head while whispers about how fucking gorgeous you are melt against your head and your hair, his touches are a lot like North's in a way, they're greedy and take their time traversing over the bountiful, supple curves of your body, but they never go any sordid without you explicitly giving him that consent to go further

-He loves the word perfect for you, he says it a lot to you, so, fucking, perfect, he's far from it himself, and has been for quite a long time now at this point, so someone that he views as utter perfection wasting their time with him, he has no idea how you put up with him, and he never will

[plastiktubes]

i think there should be more greasy gross trans people especially that r t4t

[semisolidmind]

if you must know what's keeping from drawing fanart:

(one of my self assigned projects for this semester was to make a series of alternate reality magazine covers. i figured a slasher version of sp/orts illustrated would go over well, haha. made two versions cause i liked both poses too much)

[kachowder]

Thinking about Farmer being the type who doesn’t want to “ruin your innocence”. Not till your married of course.

So instead he’ll ask you to stand still for him while he slots his cock between your thighs. Squeeze extra tight please! He’ll hold your hips and rock himself into you from behind, coating your thighs with sticky pre, groaning and whining in your ear.

Don’t worry he’ll focus on you too! That freaky monster has no problems aiding in your pleasure. Slimey claw like hands that slither across your body cooly. A familiar sticky feeling being left in its wake. It buzzes against your skin, spreading your thighs apart when the farmer isn’t paying attention and suddenly he’s slipped in and his massive hands that were gently rubbing your hips are now squeezing your thighs like his life depends on it and he wants to pull out but he can’t, not just because the entity is now wrapped around you two like a belt and keeping you connected but because you feel so good and when was the last time he felt this alive and ah shit he really really should pull out but-

Yeah. Anyway

[spookysweaterblog]

what mosquito repellent spray smells like

[azne09]

Currently writing a short story and my friend asked for illustration.

This man is my new winter hyperfixation 😔🤲✨

[dukesnukes]

SOME KILLARS!!!!!!!!!! JASON AND A NEW LAD NAMED BRONSON OR BUTCHER.....

[myersobsession]

tbh i want them all up in my face

[eerie-candid]

Same person, different time; many mistakes later.

[theebirblover]

Idc if this gets 7 likes on here, here’s my newest piece of OC art.

Variants

Line art

[semisolidmind]

have you ever danced with the devil in the pale moonlight

(a vintage style slasher and his sweet lil honey of a final girl. happy halloween. on a tuesday, no less)

[kachowder]

The Farmer (prologue)

The smell of mold was thick, and permeated the room you had so dreadfully woken up in.

The back of your head ached in dull pain, that wouldn’t allow you to remember it’s origins. Your chest was heavy as if the wind had left you and your lungs had been squeezed empty.

Your skin felt greasy and stiff. You wanted to shower. You needed to shower. But you couldn’t move. You didn’t know where you were. Was there even a bathroom to shower in?

The rotting wood and rusted windows made it seem unlikely. Though you could hear the buzzing of flies and croaks of frogs from behind the wall. Most likely, wherever you were, was next to some kind of lake or pond.

The itch of your skin was making you want to jump in, regardless of what might be lurking inside.

When the door creaked open, it’s hinges scratching against each other unpleasantly, you only found the ability to glance up from where you head had slumped against your shoulder.

Dark, sunken eyes that looked ill fitting, like the skin sagged over a face that wasn’t meant to be there. Scratchy stubble littered his chin. Greasy, unkempt hair that looked to be self maintained, if the jagged edges weren’t telling enough.

His clothes looked like they needed a few washes. And the smell that followed him was…mostly unpleasant. Like stale water and must. Not the most offensive smell, but it made your nose scrunch just for a moment.

The man, who you could guess was a farmer of some kind, stepped forward into the room, nearing the faint light the spilled in from the filthy window panes. Just enough, to where you could see the odd grey hue of his skin.

“mornin’…”

Your shoulders scrunched involuntarily, folding the skin of your back as your ears took in his voice.

Deep, monotone and a bit gruff. Like the voice of a man who never slept a day in his life. But it echoed. Like two voices speaking as one, and it rang in your ear like a quiet siren.

You supposed your lack of response made this man uncomfortable, as his eyes darted to the side for a moment, and he stepped forward. Closer.

It was now you noticed the plate of food in his large, calloused hands. It was now, as he sat down beside you, that you noticed the stiff bed you had woken up on. It was now, as the memories flooded through, that you realized the predicament you were in.

Your car was busted. Your friends were missing. You, were stranded in the middle of nowhere, in the company of a stranger who offered to help you.

and a voice in the back of your mind told you, that you were being chased.

The shift of the bed and squeaking of old springs led your eyes back to the face of the farmer infront of you, who looked just as lost in thought as you were.

He mumbled incoherently to himself, brows narrowing as if he was in the midst of an argument. Fingers fiddled and curled around the saggy fabric of his shirt, and for a moment, it seemed as if this episode had ended.

Before he looked up at you. And suddenly his brows furrowed deeper and his lips set into a deep frown.

“Your car…’s not gonna start anytime soon. You might be stuck here…’a while.”

Your chapped lips pursed, uncomfortably. “Can’t you call some repair men?”

He mimicked you, glancing away almost guiltily. “Ain’t no-body around here for miles. No land lines neither.”

Of course there wasn’t. You seemed to remember having lost connection of your phone sometime before your car broke down.

“…what about my friends? I gotta find them.”

“If they passed through here…I don’t think you’ll have much luck…”

What a comforting response. The farmer acknowledged your glare with an embarrassed clearing of his throat. “I’ll…take care of ya’ till you can get back on the road…”

“I can take care of myself just fine.”

The way he looked at you made you sick. Like dread had been poured down your throat and was slowly filling you the brim. His gaze was intense and foreboding, warning you that you did not know what you were up against.

“It ain’t just the animals out there you gotta worry about…it’s best of you to stay here. At least for a while.”

And how long is a while?

-1-

You learned very quickly, that a while was more than three days. And you learned even quicker, that sometimes it was better to not ask questions.

That was one of the rules here.

1. Don’t go out at night

2. Don’t open the shed

3. Don’t ask questions.

That last rule kept you sane.

Don’t ask why you couldn’t go out at night. Don’t ask why you can’t go in the shed.

Don’t ask why the farmer talks to himself. Don’t ask why his bedroom is never used.

Don’t ask why the cattle go stalk still when he’s nearby. Don’t ask why the crickets stop singing and frogs stop croaking when he’s outside.

Don’t ask about the smell. Don’t ask about the lumps in the ground.

Don’t ask why your neck is wet and sticky every morning. Don’t ask about your car. Don’t ask about your friends.

Don’t ask how long you’ll be stuck here.

Live ignorant while you’re here. Don’t think. It’s safer, to stop thinking. You’ll lose yourself if you think too much.

Those weren’t your words. You weren’t sure who’s they were. But they worked. They were comforting.

So you didn’t think. You no longer wondered where your friends were. You no longer wondered how long you’d be stuck here, or how long it’d take to fix your car.

The farmer took care of you. He said he would, and he did. You ate well, you slept okay and you smelled better then you had when you first woke up.

You paid little mind to the lingering touches or intense stares.

Or the moments you swore you heard something growl when you passed by.

Nothing was perfect. But it was safe.

Because you followed the rules.

Until you didn’t.

The mistake of needing the toilet late at night. The mistake of leaving the farmhouse into the pitch dark land around you. The mistake of opening the shed, thinking that it had been the outhouse you were looking for.

The mistake of asking questions, when a dark mass of oil and flesh stared back at you.

“What the fuck is that?”

You didn’t feel so safe anymore.

[crims-art]

I believe in my boy Jimmy superiority

[ruerock]

oc-tober day 3: oc who needs more art

> definitely my slasher oc, palm! watch out girl a bear behind you

here's prompts i'm following this year!

[dukesnukes]

KANE MOMENTS!!!!!!!

[probably-a-plant-thing]

wha-oh my interests are mixing!!

angler belongs to @eerie-candid the exterminator belongs to @irregularsweater