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idontknow-callmeamyrhing · 2 years

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reblogging this cause i’m sad it flopped💔

adam stanheight x male reader smut

NOT PROOF READ

i very much like this one

(no plot, reader simply fucks adam dumb :) set before he’s in any trap, before he’s known about lawrence. adam is transmasc, and has had too surgery, but no bottom surgery because as if he can afford that. ❗️minor use of daddy kink❕

i know this will flop, but i love him sm and i would like to write this.)

you had only just gotten into your shared apartment, you’ve had very long day at work, dealing with idiots and people with no manners all day, and man, you were tired.

adam, your boyfriend of many months was tired too, but not in the same way. he had been left all alone all day, with nothing to do, but think of you. and you knew well enough by now that his mind wonders to the dirtiest of places very quickly. this had led to you coming home after long days and him instantly being all over you, begging to be touched, fucked, anything just to feel something. anything from you.

today was one of those cases, and luckily for him, you weren’t only tired, but very, very pissed off.

entering your home, you dropped everything you were carrying, and called out to adam, ‘i’m home..!’ and knew it would be a matter of seconds before he…

adam appeared in front of you, ‘you like tired…’ he whispered, running his hand over your arm, reaching to take off your coat. you sighed and leaned into him, letting him take your heavy winter coat off, and drop it to the floor. ‘you look…’ you started, pressing your lips to his neck and feeling him stiffen. he knew what you were trying to say, he looked desperate. this was routine now.

‘i really am…’ he whined, tugging at you, guiding you past the couch, into the bedroom. you smiled into his skin as he tried to walk backwards and find his way, while not wanting to miss a single kiss from you. you liked this routine.

‘you are so good at hiding it.’ you retorted sarcastically, definitely making fun of him. he managed to get to the bedroom successfully as you pulled away from him, he huffed. ‘shh, shut up.’ you didn’t want him to complain, you only wanted to hear his sounds of pleasure right now. you needed to stuff him full, and wreck him, pump all of the day’s frustration into him. he was so perfect for it. you hastily pressed your lips to his and like an automatic response, his hands raced all over your torso and chest, before reaching down to tug at your shirt. you pulled away and he pulled it over your head, leaving your chest exposed. he was practically drooling. you gently shoved him down to sit on the edge of the bed, and you stood between his legs, staring down at him. he whined, his eyes were showing so many feelings and he looked like he could cry. he began to fumble with his shirt buttons, and you ran your hands under it, touching all over his front. he groaned, flustered and unable to match your desired speed. you needed him right now.

you took your hands out and placed them on his chest, gripping at the fabric before tearing it apart, his buttons fell to the floor. ‘oh, fuck…’ he whined, looking at you in awe. you weren’t usually like this, he had half the mind to go into your office and thank whichever cunt had pissed you off to make you act like this, to treat him like a toy, fragile and small. he was all over this. you bent over to kiss him, ghosting your hands over his chest, then down to between his legs, palming him. he moved his hips up into you, grinding against your palm through his jeans.

he yanked his head away from yours, breaking the kiss but keeping his face so close to yours. ‘p-please… my jeans, take them off…’ you nodded, you couldn’t deny him, not when he was so desperate for it, and not when you were achingly hard.

you rushed to undo his button, leaving lovebites on his neck while pulling his jeans off. ‘yes…’ he mumbled, getting exactly what he wanted. you pull his boxers away too, exposing his hot cunt. you stared, your mind unable to distract itself from the idea of being inside of him. you ran your fingers over it, parting him and stroking his clit slowly.

‘ohh, my god… please, please…’ he begged and tipped his head back into the bed, wrapping his legs around your waist where you stood. ‘i need you so bad…’ adam continued to plead as your fingers slipped inside of him, causing him to moan out profanities and more begs.

you increase the pace, loving the look on his face, loving the sounds he makes, and loving the way he’s putty in your hands, melting, and all yours. your free hand trails up to his neck, gripping and squeezing. he bolts to look at you, he’s clearly already feeling so much, he’s so bad at hiding how starved for touch he is. so bad at hiding how helpless he is.

‘oh my god! oh, shit! right there!’ he cries as your fingers hit his g-spot. you squeeze harder on his neck, and his moans get more breathless, and his breathing picks up.

his hands dart up to your forearm, prying at you to let him show you how bad he wants you, his eyes looking into yours like a lost puppy and you release him. adam gasps in breaths, hitched and ragged as you continue to finger fuck him. and it’s no surprise that the second he’s caught his breath, he starts up again with profanities.

‘fuck, fuck! daddy, fuck, i’m gonna cum, oh!’ you yank your hand away from his hole. he gasps and looks at you as though you’ve stabbed him in the heart, as though you’ve committed the ultimate betrayal against him. his hands grab at yours trying to push you back inside, ‘no, please i was so close, you’re so good…’ he trailed off, needing you, now.

you shake your head and pull your jeans off, as well as your boxers and he lays, admiring your body, his eyes lingering on your cock. he moves back onto the bed, laying his head against the pillows, and spreads his legs. ‘now are you gonna fucking fuck me?’ he snaps at you. ‘someone’s had a bad day,’ you remark back, calmer.

you crawl over him perching on your knees and pulling his hips to you, ‘i’ve been waiting for hours…’ adam confessed as you lined yourself up to him.

‘well the wait is over..’ you mumbled as you pushed into him.

adam’s eyes shut in bliss, his mouth opening with a breathy groan. his sounds only increased from there, you couldn’t wait anymore, and began at a brutal pace, which had him screaming in seconds. his hands were all over the place, one second gripping the sheets below, next covering up his face, then over to rub his clit, it was all a little much for him. exactly how he liked it.

‘oh fuck!’ and ‘fuck yes daddy!’ were some of the main things you could hear as you yanked his body back and forth onto your cock by his hips. you groaned out his name and tilted your head back, he was hot, tight and so perfect.

eventually his words morphed into incoherent babbles and sounds, sounds that had no real meaning except that you were doing a good fucking job to rail him like this. he came quickly, shooting cum onto your abdomen and cock, and after you didn’t stop he stared into your eyes and cried.

seeing tears drip from his eyes, his face morphing into one of utter ecstasy, and his sounds becoming more and more desperate made you speed up, needing to cum inside of him, needing to let the day go.

he gripped onto your forearms which yanked at his hips. ‘holy shit…’ he whined as he came again, this time, with you.

‘oh fuck adam..’ you moaned out as you painted his insides. he squirmed and panted out as he came down from his high, you just watched his body react.

‘oh my god…’ adam sighed, placing a hand to his forehead and his eyes widening, probably trying to process what the fuck he just experienced.

‘i needed that.’ you collapsed onto him and winced as you pulled out of him.

‘i have got to get me one of those…’ adam huffed, clearly a fan of your work. ‘we’ll have enough money soon, i’ve been working my ass off,’ you said, and adam laughed into your neck.

‘thank you,’

#the changing of hyperfixations is harsh #oh my god #adam stanheight #adam stanheight x reader smut #adam stanheight x reader #saw #saw 2004 #lawrence gordon #amanda young #john kramer

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idontknow-callmeamyrhing · 2 years

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💖 SEND THIS TO OTHER BLOGGERS YOU THINK ARE WONDERFUL. KEEP THE GAME GOING 💖

in love with u….

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idontknow-callmeamyrhing · 2 years

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ok when y'all simps write fnaf smut it's like... human versions right? .....RIGHT??

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idontknow-callmeamyrhing · 2 years

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michael with a hyper empathetic s/o

@certain-nostalgia i’m so sorry this took so long and i’m sorry that i lost the request😭😭 i’m all over the place rn pls forgive me

in this, there are a few scenarios where the reader gets a little overwhelmed over inanimate objects, PLEASE tell me if any of this was wrong or offensive in any way, i’ll change it immediately! not proof read

-so, let’s be clear. michael is exactly the best at comforting you. he’d be pretty awkward, and easily make it worse with his apathy.

-however, he isn’t ignorant to you, when you cry over small things he didn’t think were big issues. he tries to understand as best he can, though most of the time it just doesn’t click. you get very upset over objects that aren’t alive. this to michael is, no offence, a little bit crazy, he doesn’t even feel attachment or care for other human beings (depending on the point in your relationship) apart from you, so he feels baffled, and even more inhuman.

-he doesn’t mind too much, he understands that even if he doesn’t understand why, you are upset and he knows you look to him for emotional support.

-at the beginning of your relationship, he’s not much help at all, he’s distant as it is, he’s not going to be a shoulder to cry on, especially if he doesn’t get your reasons for being upset. after you spend a while developing your relationship with him, he will eventually warm up to being physically present during your moments.

-you’d be eating some grapes as an evening snack, and see a particularly small grape and decide it was in fact, just a teeny baby. and you utterly refuse to eat it, it’s just so small. michael however sees you holding it with such a look, and he puts his hand out for it. you assume he is also interested by the small fruit, so you hand it to him, only to jump up when he puts it in his mouth and swallows it.

-you’d be devastated, and have to explain your reaction to him when he looks at you like you’d done something ridiculous. he wouldn’t get it, and probably wouldn’t give any apologies.

-however, later on in your relationship, he’d try to have a little more empathy towards you, as well as some more understanding of your nature.

-you’d had some plants for a good while, during this time, you’ve cared for them. you’d nurtured them, grown them and watched them change into what they are now, you had names and personalities for each one. michael knew this, and so he could only wait for you to come home to see one of them had picked up a severe case of root-rot.

-upon discovering this yourself, you’d frantically try to restore its condition, but to no avail. you’d be devastated, your plant was going to die and it was due to your carelessness, it must have felt so betrayed…

-conveying these feelings to michael while crying into his shoulder was a big step for your relationship, he’d feel a pang, and a need to console you. he’d tangle his hands in your hair and pet you semi-affectionately, and semi-awkwardly. you knew he wasn’t sure why you were so upset, you knew that it made no sense to him, but he was trying. and you kissed his cheek in a thank you for helping you. michael would then steal a plant he thought you may like.

-the more of these instances occur, michaels adjusts to it, and to how you are. he likes how you feel the need to kiss every one of your stuffed animals so that none of them feel left out, he finds it endearing. and he likes how you apologise to the furniture when you bump into it, it makes him feel safe around you.

-he learns a lot about people from you, and while he is the opposite of you, he still finds a small spot for you to be loved, quirks and all.

#BRO IM SO SORRY IT TOOK THIS LONG #i won’t bore u with the details i’ve just had a bit of a rough patch #i just really hope you enjoyed and tysm for being so patient #michael myers x reader #michael myers x reader fluff #michael myers #slashers #slashers x reader fluff

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idontknow-callmeamyrhing · 2 years

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I LOVE HIM SM TY😭😭

“I couldn’t get the job” fluff

adam stanheight x gender neutral! caring! reader

TLDR: adam didnt get the job, is sarcastic and jokes about it because he struggles to explain his emotions and you comfort him.

as you threw your bag on the couch, you noticed the closed door to the dark room, the red light seeping into your dim apartment. adam’s music blasting out, the playlist being a mix of weezer, sum 41 and bowling for soup. you almost laugh to yourself at his desperate cling to still being a teenager. the music covers up your knocks on the door , meaning you have to shout and essentially pound on the door, but before you can land your last knock, the door swings open.

adam false flinches at your raised arm “please dont hit me aaaa” he shakes his hands and laughs, essentially tugging your arm into the room. he shows you the photos he took throughout the neighbourhood, some even of you. “i was trying to tune my inner rebel” he says, holding up a mock rock fist. “so how was the interview my rock god boyfriend” you chuckle as you sit down. he hums almost, trying to distract you by pulling down one of the photos, as you tilt your head he cant help but blurt it out “wellactuallythemostrebelliousthingicoulddoisbeunemployedyouknowlikestickittotheman”, it comes as one jumbled sentence. “english.” you say with a raised eyebrow.

“i couldn’t get the job” his voice heightens, and tries to half smile as he attempts to make it sound more positive than it is. “ok-ay, how are you feeling about it?” instead of answering, he does another round of picking up photos and sorting them. you follow him around the room, eventually grabbing his hand lightly, holding him against you until his rigid body melts into yours. “i just don’t get it i’m not stupid, i- i even brought a fucking portfolio, a fucking portfolio Y/N , the only reason is they just didnt like me, and i know im not ugly. so what- what is the issue?” he slumps further against you, but his arms stay stiff against his sides. “you dont need a job anyways, dont you prefer this free lance stuff? isn’t it more ‘rebellious’ than a desk job anyways?” he exhales, trying not to laugh. “well of course you want me to stay free lance, you get me more everyday! you keep me in chaaaaains” he dramatically whines, turning around in your arms and wrapping his arms around your waist.

as you dramatically gasp “chains hmm? i think you should stop being a rebellious teenager before you really get grounded,” you both chuckle and place your foreheads together, the red light making you feel even closer than you were.

#adam my beloved

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idontknow-callmeamyrhing · 2 years

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i’m gonna write that🤩

OG Mikey's hair is so pretty and fluffy... imagine tugging on it while he eats you out/sucks you off 😳

FUCK.

I bet that lil bitch moans when you tug on his curls too. OG is a needy, horny mess & it's very hot.

Also OG mikey sucking dick is a new kink of mine it's perfect.

#eventually

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idontknow-callmeamyrhing · 2 years

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SUNKENDREAMS STARTED FOLLOWING ME BACK IM 😭😭😭😭😭

#the embodiments of talent really be out here making me feel special

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idontknow-callmeamyrhing · 2 years

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screaming crying throwing up

Could you write a one-shot (drabble or headcanons are also good If that’s preferred!) about old man myers taking his mask off in front of his S/O for the first time? preferably a fluffy approach but anything you write is good honestly :)

┊ 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐓 ⠀ཾ༵࿇ ˼ — 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞-𝐢𝐬𝐡.

┊ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆(𝐒) ⠀ཾ༵࿇ ˼ — 𝐦𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐞𝐥 𝐦𝐲𝐞𝐫𝐬 ( 𝐩𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐚𝐰 ) 𝐱 𝐚𝐟𝐚𝐛!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫.

┊ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 ⠀ཾ༵࿇ ˼ — 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭/𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟, 𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐭!𝐩𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐚𝐰, 𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞/𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞, 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠.

┊ 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 ⠀ཾ༵࿇ ˼ — 𝟐,𝟏𝟒𝟗.

┊ 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒 ⠀ཾ༵࿇ ˼ — 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐨 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭! 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞’𝐬 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭 𝐢𝐧𝐯𝐨𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐚 𝐩𝐨𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐢𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐲! 𝐈 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲! ❤️

The flash of red and blue glistened outside of your windows, accompanied by police sirens and the yelling of rancorous crowds. You locked your doors as soon as you caught wind of the mob scouring Haddonfield, searching for Michael with guns and baseball bats, pitchforks and mallets.

It terrified you — you hadn’t seen Michael for hours. Haddonfield was on fire, crumbling around you for the first time since you’d moved to the dreary, haunted town. That nagging fear of losing Michael was eating away at you, knowing that there wasn’t anything that you could do except wait.

If the town found out that you’d been harboring Michael for as long as you had, they would turn their weapons to you. You knew Michael wouldn’t want you sticking your neck out for him anyway, he made it his priority to protect you, safeguard you. You wouldn’t go against him like that.

As police vehicles raced past your home, you noticed some on foot, prompting you to briefly unlock your door in order to take a look at the situation. As your bare feet landed against cold concrete, you jumped, your presence catching the attention of a police officer hauling it down your street.

“Get back inside, ma’am! Lock your doors, there’s been a massacre!” He ordered, immediately driving you back inside of your house. You knew exactly what a massacre meant, but there was no word on Michael — was he safe? Was he apprehended by the authorities? It was killing you, not knowing where he was.

Retreating back inside of your house, you were nearly breathless, heart hammering so hard that it threatened to burst through your chest. There was silence, save for the distant wailing of sirens and occasional scuffling on the street, flash of lights beginning to subside. You drew your curtains closed, shrouded in darkness as you fumbled with the flashlight on your phone.

A thump at your back door immediately grabbed your attention, prompting you to creep toward the source of the noise, chewing at the inside of your cheek until you tasted something vitriolic, something coppery. Using your smartphone’s flashlight to navigate through your home, you heard the thump again.

“Michael?” You whispered, terrified that it was some intrusive stranger, or a policeman wanting to search your residence. Still, you didn’t hear the familiar heavy breathing or the grunts, nothing that told you it was Michael whatsoever.

You trembled, ratting like a leaf as you neared your door, finding it unlocked and completely ajar when you investigated the noise. Slinking forward, you shut it very quickly, barely noticing the hulking shadow looming about in your kitchen as you passed by. Latching the door, you swiveled around, nearly screaming when you ran right into Michael himself.

As your hands placed themselves against his chest, they became wet with blood — you didn’t know if it was his or someone else’s. Part of the rubber mask was singed, burnt with black marks, and his breathing sounded strenuous, as if he were struggling to keep up. Parts of his coveralls were torn or shredded, able to see some pockets of flesh underneath.

Michael slumped into you, panting raggedly as he struggled to stay upright, littered in various wounds, from gunshots to stab wounds, body battered by the crack of a baseball bat. He was inhuman — no one could survive what he could, but he was still standing nonetheless.

“Hey, hey,” You crooned, struggling to handle the brunt of his weight, able to smell the pungent stench of copper, coupled with the singed, burnt rubber. You’d never seen him like this before — to you, he was invincible, and he most certainly was, but seeing him falter because of his wounds was concerning. “Michael?” Worry saturated your voice, but he was hellbent on collapsing somewhere that wasn’t the floor.

You were partially dragging him down the hallway, letting him crash on your bed. You didn’t care about all of the blood, you would deal with it later. His breathing was horribly heavy, sonorous grunts that made your heart tighten with pity. In the lower light of your bedroom, you could see just how many times he’d been shot — eight times, all covering his chest and torso.

You hadn’t the slightest clue of how he was still alive and breathing — he was slower, behaving as if he were merely exhausted instead of riddled with so many injuries that he should’ve been considered a dead man. It proved several theories you’d come to make about him, one being that he had transcended into something inhuman, borderline supernatural.

“Michael,” You whispered, crouched beside him on your bed, having propped up pillows behind him. Even then, he seemed fine — you didn’t understand, but as long as he wasn’t dying or succumbing to his injuries, you tried not to worry so much. “You scared me.” Tears formed within your eyes, glassy and glazed as you pressed a towel against his oozing wounds.

When he’d slaughtered the mob attempting to kill him, all he could think about was you — protecting you, ensuring that you were safe, coming back to you. As he slashed and impaled, slicing through people with his knife, it was all some futile effort to return to you in one piece. It was a horrifying bloodbath, but he would do it all again if he had to. Michael had finally found something he couldn’t live without, something he needed to live for, and that was you.

Through the black pits of his mask, he watched your body shudder and shake in a gentle sob, tears trickling down your cheeks as you kept pressure on a myriad of bullet wounds. He was relatively unphased, weathered, calloused digits moving forward to stroke your cheek, likely the most tender he’d ever been. He could tell that you were rattled over this, over him bleeding all over your bed and nearly beaten by some band of idiots.

“Don’t leave me, okay?” Your attachment to him had gotten so strong, to the point where you finally thought you loved him unconditionally. It was a very long, many months of learning and exploration, a blossoming relationship and newfound emotions for you to realize that you couldn’t be without him. “Christ, you’re bleeding everywhere.” Your fretting was frantic as you rushed to gather more towels.

Michael merely grunted in response, and his wounds began to feel like uncomfortable pinpricks. Their severity was lost upon him. When he was being shot and stabbed, beaten and bruised, he could feel everything, but as soon as he stood, as soon as he began to kill, it all dissipated so swiftly. Even now, it was all rather dismal — it was nothing. The blood was slowing in several places.

Not all of the blood that coated him was his, though. There were many splotches and places where you knew it was someone else’s. You used to be intimidated and afraid whenever he’d come home like this, but you knew that people were hurting him, wanting him dead. Now, it only raised concern, your fingers fumbling with his coveralls, toying with the zipper as your hands pressed against his chest.

Every flash of police lights and sirens passing by made your stomach churn with a sour feeling, nervous goosebumps building up along your spine. Michael could tell just how shaken up you were, his hand pressing into your side as he tugged you closer in an attempt to soothe you. They were all heading toward the massacre, searching for Michael, but they would never find him here.

He was safest with you, no matter what.

“You’re a mess,” Your smile was unbelievably stressed, but you tried your best, letting out a weak chortle as Michael’s hand gingerly kneaded into the swell of your hip, a rumble escaping the mangled man. Your eyes were still swimming with tears, but you held them back with a resilient restraint, fingers plucking and flicking at the zipper on his coveralls. “Both of us are.”

Michael grunted, petting at your side, wanting you to know that he was still here — he wasn’t going anywhere. It was uncomfortable underneath the mask, which was sliced and burnt, splattered in crimson and beginning to warp. Every breath he took felt like a gush of molten air being thrust back at him inside of the pale rubber, prompting him to consider taking it off.

There wasn’t a reason to hide himself from you anymore. The two of you had gone through it all, and now, as Haddonfield sat in a state of complete chaos and disarray, the Boogeyman decided to show his face to you, at long last. Any other time, it was only partial or obscured by darkness, but near-death experiences evoked a change of heart.

His hand curled into the back of the mask, digits grasping at the singed hair before he sluggishly began to tug. Initially, you thought he was pulling it up for a kiss, until the mask continued to go up — your breath hitched, lips falling agape as Michael removed his mask completely.

For the first time, you were truly face to face with Michael Myers.

To you, he was ruggedly handsome, jaw covered in a shaggy, silvery beard, patches of silvered hair atop his head. That familiar, cerulean eye was boring into your shocked expression, searing through you completely, his other eye glazed over with a milky pallor. The scar that ran over that eye started above his eyebrow, ending below his eye.

Your lower lip quivered as you tremulously lifted your hand, letting it settle against the side of his face. You couldn’t believe that he showed you — it almost didn’t feel real. It was a sign of trust, a sign of complete and utter devotion, knowing that you would never find him abhorrent. This was Michael, the Michael you’d fallen in love with, the one who would do anything for you, the Michael who would kill and maim for you.

Despite the blood all over you, smeared into your skin and into your clothing, Michael was tugging you against him and vice versa, foreheads momentarily pressing together. In moments like these, Michael felt so very vulnerable, but his heart had opened to you, even if it was only a sliver. There was a foreign softness to his movements, arms snaking around your hips, letting you cradle his face within your palms.

Unbeknownst to you, you were crying, tears slipping down your cheeks. It didn’t register to you whatsoever, but maybe it was the wash of emotion coupled with a terror that Michael might’ve perished. You shuddered, lips parted as a shaky breath emerged from you, the pads of your thumbs roving over his grizzled visage, eyes fluttering shut as you careened inward for a sudden, compassionate kiss.

It was both bruising and desperate as Michael kissed you, feeling some semblance of freedom without the mask. It was somewhat liberating to kiss you without any obstructions, but it would certainly take getting used to. He heard you whimper, digits tensing into your waist as you clung to him like a drowning woman, terrified to let go.

Almost losing him was too tough of a thought to comprehend. Even with his rugged musculature littered in so many wounds, he wasn’t faltering — he was more invigorated than ever, chest tightening as you pressed flush against him, hands drifting from his face to loosely twine around his neck. It felt like some sort of dream you’d had before, discovering him without the mask, but this easily trumped any dream, any figment of your imagination.

You recoiled for a fraction of a second, eyes fluttering open, locked in a stare with Michael. That cerulean ocular conveyed a strange amount of tenderness, still recovering from nearly dying. He stared at you as if you were the most beautiful thing to grace this world, and to him, you absolutely were. He grunted when your fingers caressed around the sides of his neck, beard scratching against your mouth when he kissed you again.

“Michael,” You murmured, commanding his attention with such a sweet utterance, pulling back just enough to stare at his passive countenance. There was a lack of expression, but you knew that he was attentive, hinged upon every word that left your lips. “I can’t live without you.” You breathed, shaking your head back and forth. “I can’t.”

As Michael tugged you closer, as much as humanly possible, his hold was ferociously protective, a silent promise to never succumb to death. If a mob couldn’t stop him, nothing would — nothing would get in his way from getting back to you. Michael pressed his face into yours, noses brushing together, foreheads snug as he squeezed you with an ironclad hold.

And you knew that he couldn’t live without you, either.

#this is so beautiful😭😭😭#and the kiss was😩😩😩

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