#Michael Myers Smut | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sleepingdeath-light · 1 year

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hey:D ‼️ slashers x a femme bimbo reader? i would love michael, tommy, vincent+ bo, and jennifer? (whoever else u choose is fine) please and thank you!

Bimbo S/O Headcanons | Multiple Slashers (18+)

thank you for requesting, anon!

reader is assumed as being female and a bimbo

there’s no sex described, but there’s a lot of sexual talk around the reader, hence the smut tag

this includes : billy lenz, brahms heelshire, carrie white, jennifer check, michael myers, the sinclair twins & thomas hewitt

minors and ageless blogs will be blocked

billy lenz

billy is a pervert by nature and would have sexualised you irrespective of how you acted or what you wore (when there’s a will, there’s a way and all of that)

but you being a bimbo made it all so much easier and so much more enjoyable for the unknown voyeur

it seemed like everything you did have him an erection as he stared at you through cracks in the ceiling and walls and doors

how your short pink skirt would ride up and show your pretty panties whenever you bent over or sat down

how your tight white shirt did little to hide your breasts or the fact that you’d opted to go braless

the way you frequently stumbled and tripped in those pink heels — exposing your ass to him more often than even he could have wished for

all of that was enough of a dream come true, but the moment you picked up the phone and he got a true exposure to your delightfully ditzy and naively trusting persona this man was a goner

you were his dream-girl through-and-through

his pretty piggy who’s only good at taking billy’s thick cock into her dumb holes

his bimbo that has no chance of escaping him or his lewd calls and comments

of course you were his the moment you stepped foot in his house, but you continuously exposing yourself for him (as he perceived it, anyway) just gave him the go ahead to claim you entirely

and you’d best believe that he’ll want you dressing as sluttily as possible at all times

bo sinclair

although he tends to present himself as the perfect southern gentleman at first glance, bo is a verifiable pervert with pretty much no shame

it would have taken a remarkable amount of self restraint for him to keep up the act in front of your group — especially with you looking and acting like that

tight shirt, mini skirt and a body that he just wanted to lose himself in

god it was like you were made for him, but that could wait until he had splintered your group

but until then, he sated himself by glancing down your top whenever you leaned forwards, lifting up your skirt whenever he got the chance and catching you whenever you tripped (getting away with many less-than-innocent touches due to your obliviousness)

his advances get more and more aggressive and obvious as your group is picked off one by one until you’re the only one left untouched and somehow still oblivious to your situation

and bo finds himself torn between keeping you around as an alibi and a good fuck, or just using and discarding you to vincent as he’d done before

in the end, of course, he ends up deciding to let you live whilst putting on a whole show of wooing you so that you think you’re staying willingly — justifying it by saying you’ll help future “tourists” feel at home

but his brothers can tell that he’s grown more than a little fond of your presence (beyond, even, your sex appeal and naïveté — shockingly to all involved, he actually seems to care)

brahms heelshire

you were not what anyone in the heelshire family were looking for when they sought out a nanny

you were clumsy and naive; not being able to do much in education or housework without inevitably messing something up

you were a veritable slut without the intent; with tiny skirts and translucent shirts that could barely even be considered clothing and that certainly weren’t conducive with the image they wanted to present as a family

but, to brahms, you were perfect

the perfectly dainty damsel in distress for him to leer and gawk at from behind the walls as you went about your day hopelessly attempting to abide by his schedule

and whilst you frequently forgot certain rules, he let you off — equally because he knew you weren’t acting intentionally and because he loved watching you too much to let you go

his favourite times of day were those that necessitated you coming into contact with water or bending over because they gave him the most wonderful views of your body that often appeared in his masturbation fantasies

loves the way you coo over and jokingly scold his doll — actually just loves hearing you say his name and talk to “him”

is much more possessive and protective when it comes to anyone bringing supplies to the house because of, well, everything about you

like it’s all well and good having a pretty little thing with nice tits and ass to stare at all day and night, but issues arise when somebody else gets to look at what’s his

and even if you’re too ditzy and naive to recognise the grocery boy’s intentions, brahms is all too aware of what goes on in a man’s head

and he may just take it upon himself to show everyone, including you, what happens when someone touches what belongs to him

carrie white

carrie was brought up in a highly conservative christian background — so, needless to say, your presence itself would be a significant shock to the poor girl

everything about you is a complete upturning of the values she was raised with, from your personality to the way you dressed

god, the way you dressed was sin personified and every time she caught herself staring she’d mutter a quick prayer for forgiveness

tight white shirts, short pink skirts and high pink heels — a recipe for disaster that she found herself drawn to

those miniskirts would so frequently ride up your thighs and expose your tiny pink panties to anyone who dared to look whenever you stalled in readjusting them (though they were always short enough to expose those thighs of yours)

those shirts that would turn wonderfully transparent whenever you got even slightly damp (be that through rain or spillage) and exposed your otherwise bare chest to prying eyes

those heels that were the cause of so many incidents like those above

and, values be damned, she was more thankful for your obliviousness than anything else as she didn’t know what she’d do if you recognised the way her peers leered at you

how she looked at you with so much lust, with eyes that lingered too long to be innocent on your chest and the apex of your thighs and your ass

how she thought of you whenever she touched herself, one hand balled up in a fist that she bit down on to muffle herself whilst the other crept between her legs to toy with her puffy lips and swollen clit and seeping hole

you, in all of your naïveté and clumsiness, were at the centre of all of her fantasies and she wanted nothing more than to keep you in the dark about it all for as long as possible

jennifer check

you and her will almost inevitably end up sharing clothing and/or accessories because your styles match so well

date nights will consist of you sharing skincare routines and doing each other’s makeup

she uses your nature and appearance to her benefit, ramping up her sexuality with you in public to help lure in men for her to kill and feed on

she repays you with plentiful sex, affection and spoiling with money she gets from her “boyfriends”

will shamelessly ogle you whenever you lean forwards or bend over and gets a kick out of flustering you just as much as when she gets away with being a complete perv

gropes you in public like all of the time and usually plays it off as innocent or accidental — would stop if you asked, though

50/50 whether she lets you in on what she’s doing so you can help or strings you along as an accomplice

loves how oblivious you are and gets off on the power dynamic between you and her as the more experienced, dominant partner

buys you the most transparent, slutty, short clothes that she can find for you both so you can match, she can get food, and she can see as much of you as possible at all times

she will shift targets on a dime if she notices someone getting too close to comfort and taking advantage you in the same way she does — and she makes a point to show everyone that you’re very much so taken

makes you wear underwear that she chooses so anyone else ogling you gets a blatant reminder of who you belong to

michael myers (any)

initially michael found your demeanour more annoying and inconvenient than anything else

you were attractive, of course, but your clumsiness and obliviousness just made him frustrated — made him want to stalk you to force you to notice the word around you

and he did. for well over a month

even going into your home and standing over you as you slept, rearranging things in your house, anything to get you to notice that something was up

but you never did

even when he confronted you on your walk home and started following you, very obviously, you just chatted with him as if nothing was wrong and how much of a coincidence it was you were going the same way

you even complimented his mask — which immediately made you more tolerable

and almost made up for the dozen times he’d watched you trip over thin air or otherwise expose yourself to people unintentionally

after a while he even became somewhat protective, targeting people that were sexually aggressive or otherwise weird towards you to get his frustrations out before returning to his routine of stalking you

at one point he began to masturbate to the sight of you — which he’d never been able to do given his life being spent entirely in an institution with no privacy

he takes full advantage of your naïveté to tease and manipulate you, especially after you realise who he is

he just signs that he won’t hurt you if you let him stay with you and don’t tell anyone he’s there

and you oblige

and he doesn’t hurt you

the only real change is having to deal with him shamelessly staring at you all of the time, but after you get together you don’t really mind so it’s not really that big of a deal

thomas hewitt

everything about you seems perfectly engineered to turn this poor man into a flustered, red-in-the-face, 404-ing mess

you’re not exactly what his mother had raised him to look for in a woman but that made you somehow more attractive? like a forbidden fruit in a sense

your high high heels that you constantly tripped over weren’t exactly made for life in their rural town but your confidence in them made him reluctant to have you change

those teeny-tiny shorts and skirts left nothing to the imagination when it came to those smooth, long legs and those brightly coloured thongs you wore and caused him a lot of trouble whenever he caught a glimpse of you and ended up dropping his tools

your thin white shirts that hoyt always managed to get wet somehow were incredibly form fitting and gave him the perfect view of your chest

but whilst your body and sexuality haunted his mind and left him wanting and guilty when he’d reach between his legs for relief at the end of the day — it was your demeanour that captured his heart and endeared him to you

your naïveté kept you up and out of the way of the family’s dirtier dealings and meant they didn’t have to hide anything too hard as you believed whatever they promised to you

he felt bad for lying but he also knew it was a necessary evil

and your clumsy nature meant that any guests felt more at ease around you, joking around and letting their guard down to flirt with you which made his job a whole lot easier

so, needless to say, you were definitely a good investment for the family even if you kept unintentionally torturing poor thomas with your displays of sexuality and femininity throughout the house

vincent sinclair

you immediately caught vincent’s eye when you entered ambrose because of how different you were from your companions

your clothes were more revealing and feminine: all light colours, cropped edges, frills, pastels and the whole nine yards

definitely a far cry from the muted neutrals and heavy jumpers that he usually saw

more artistically inspiring, barbie like even

it made you attractive, certainly, but it also made him want to preserve you as an art piece even more — he wanted to capture your beauty permanently

but then your personality endeared you to him

you were immediately kind and trusting towards his twin, which painted you as a very naïve person but the genuine way you defended him and scolded your friends for interrupting the “funeral” caught his heart

hell, even bo seemed taken a back by your demeanour (before trying to look down your shirt, of course)

and then there was the clumsiness that gave him the perfect view of each and every angle of your body that those short, tight clothes did little to hide as you stumbled and tripped over your heels in the museum

even gentlemen have their limits and, from what he justified as artistic curiosity, he indulged himself in plenty of looks

you even made him chuckle a few times when you apologised to the figures you fell onto

all of it, to him, made you seem so much better than your companions — someone worth saving and keeping as a living art piece in ambrose

it wouldn’t be hard to convince his brothers, they were always talking about needing some company

and, beside, you didn’t strike him as the sort to be hard to lie to

so if you believed your friends abandoned you, maybe you’d be happy to stay with them — and, maybe, you’d never have to learn about the truth of ambrose and it’s wax museum

and he’d get to ogle you all he liked from behind the safety of his mask (only as an artist, of course! he’d never sexualise you… or at least he tries to claim as much to himself)

6K notes · View notes

sl4sh3rsub · 9 months

Text

rz michael myers hcs (nsfw: mdni)

rz michael myers x reader (AFAB, AMAB, FtM, MtF)

warning: a lot here. mikey has a monster cock, insecure + inexperienced michael, he doesn't talk but makes noise + mouths words + grunts syllables sometimes (selectively mute ig?), oral sex (both giving and receiving), excessive creampies, fingering (receiving), no lube we die like men his dick n spit does it for him, masturbation, rimming (both giving and receiving), knife kink, excessive mentions of precum + spit + cum, creative use of cum/arousal fluids in arts projects, musk kink, choking (receiving), mentions of sex toys, thigh humping, mention of canon SA and violence (nothing w/ or directly involving reader), p in v + anal (all unprotected - pls stay safe irl), cum eating, slight somnophilia, bruises and hickeys, cockwarming, slight worship (receiving), dry humping, handjobs, 2 mentions of him having a mini shrine to you, mentions of needle hrt in ftm + mtf bits (feel free to ignore), mentions of the institute/asylum

a/n: sorta edited. tried not to be too ooc, but it's more focused on a softer side of michael - personally i think his character is very different to og/peepaw myers! rz mikey is more based in instinct rather than previous experiences/societal expectations, so there's more general hcs than separate sections this time. NOTE: feel free to read any sections, tried my best to not use gendered terms in agab sections but lmk how i can improve :3

order: general hcs first then amab + afab then ftm + mtf, different sections = different content n tried not to repeat much

_ _ _ _ _

general hcs

as michael is very inexperienced with kissing, he'll smash his lips against yours and become a huffing mess after he gets worked up from your breath mingling with his and your darkening gazes meeting

if you play with his hair and gaze into his eyes, he can't help it if he gets half-hard - his body will always needily react to your attention and affection

he's most at home in grey sweatpants - he's very used to wearing them while making his masks and associates them with comfort and the years of creatively honing his craft

so naturally, don't be surprised when his already impressive girth pulses and thickens at the sight of you bending over or reaching something off a high shelf

mikey will absolutely make you your own special mask!! although, the glue he uses for your personal paper mâché mix is a bit more,, personal. he'll also use your arousal to paint the inner layer of his favourite mask :( he simply needs to have some semblance of you with him at all times, especially whenever he's out on the town and away from your embrace

he's borderline hypersexual and gets half-hard and extremely sensitive without reason, however he doesn't always feel the need to act on his urges with you. expect him hiding his arousal during mundane activities, getting flushed and shy when he realises that you notice :<

if he's comfortable on the couch, he'll make himself at home with a horrendous manspread. naturally, this leads to him getting flustered whenever you kneel in between his legs with a mischievous glint in your eye. if you ask him sweetly, he'll be more than happy to sit you in between his strong thighs and let you hump into his hand while you both watch a movie

if he's not feeling like he wants to be inside you, he'll lie on his back with his knees up, pulling you to straddle his waist and lean back against his thighs. from this angle, he's able to watch you play with yourself and masturbate above him while feeling your weight grounding him, just out of reach but almost close enough to taste

he loves taking you from behind and kissing the base of your neck, your breathless giggles echoing in his ears as his long hair tickles your shoulders and back

michael loves having you cockwarm him while he makes his masks!! he adores it when you doze off with your cheek smushed into his shoulder during a late night arts-and-crafts session, the slow pulse of his heartbeat deep inside you

he's so, so incredibly thankful for you, that he's able to unleash his frustrations into you, whether it be about a ripped mask or just about pentup emotions. he's eternally thankful for your love and under the table support

you are mikey's angel, his true saving grace. after his long bout at the institute, he was fully convinced that being loved by anyone was impossible for him. your welcoming arms and gentle praise proved him wrong and completely changed his image of heaven - to michael, it's no longer a cloudy sky mentioned in those old books, it's your warm embrace and loving gaze. it just took him a little while to realise that he was in his own little paradise with you

he tries his hardest to treat you with absolute reverence and adoration T-T he's devoted to making you feel good with him, no matter what. usually, this means holding back from skullfucking you at a brutal pace whenever you give him head. your throat is just so tight around him :( it's got him steadying himself against a wall with his hand, shaking and sweating from holding back, with his gorgeous, garbled moans encouraging you to swallow the saltiness of his length

mikey's wandering hands always end up on your ass or tummy whenever you cuddle together, it's just comforting for him

he's one of the strongest, largest men to ever walk the earth, but the way he gently traces your facial features makes you forget that completely. michael handles you like you're made of porcelain, only using soft pressure unless you assure him he won't break you easily

he has a big, strong and beefy body. lord knows how he maintained it in the institute but with you, he's gonna try his damnedest to put all of his strength to good use - whether it be getting you off while fingering you, his toned forearms barely breaking a sweat or his tree trunk thighs tensing while you ride them

mikey is not trimmed or well-groomed downstairs, his pubes are a wild and unkempt cloud of blonde and light grey hair, so you know he's not caring about how you look at all. you're a fuckin deity in his eyes and he'll dispose of anyone who makes you feel anything other than heavenly

michael is uncut, big and thick, with a large vein running up the underside - so heavy and large that it can't even stand up against his belly, instead slightly bobbing with his pulse and hanging low. it's the type you see in lewd magazines, where it tilts down even when fully hard

when you're on your knees for him, expect his weepy cockhead to drip onto your face while you kiss and nip at his heavy, full balls

oh yeah, this man has the definition of breeder balls; hanging low, swollen and filled to the brim with his potent cum. he truly has so much to give, so you'd better be ready for multiple loads throughout the night

in contrast to michael's hard cock, his nipples are soft and incredibly sensitive. if he's trying to cum as fast as possible, he'll sneak a hand up his shirt and pinch at them relentlessly - make sure they're puffy and spit-glazed after you've been ontop, he goes absolutely feral would really appreciate it

mikey has massive hands too - his fingers are enough to fill you considerably, but he often resorts to stuffing your mouth with them or using his palm to muffle your noises if you're being vocal. he definitely doesn't want the cops called on you just because he's great at pleasuring you

his cock feels heavy inside you, almost like he's deep in your chest whenever he bottoms out. the weight is absolutely dizzying as it stretches you out each thrust and rubs all of the right places. he easily gets drunk on the feeling of you clenching around him, leading to his head being tossed back with drool dribbling down his chin at the sensation

he has the biggest size kink possible but he really doesn't want to get carried away when exerting his strength and size on you - he doesn't want to get carried away or hurt you too badly :(

michael uses whatever knife he can get his hands on during foreplay to add a bit of risk and edge. cutting off your underwear and shirt, tracing down thighs and hips and gently nicking your skin every once in a while, but he quickly tosses it if you beg him to fuck you desperately enough - he doesn't wanna hurt you that bad, not before he's even gotten started

mikey is incredibly insecure about himself and his own worth as a person. he fears your love is only temporary and that you'll move on, leaving him behind as a memory or an adrenaline rush of foolish regret :( for that reason, he's terrified to go too hard or hurt you badly - he's convinced you'll be in pain and be fearful of him if he fucks up. be sure to reassure him when you're together after you have a rougher time and he's manhandling you more <3

initially when he learnt about dry humping, he was confused as to why he craved the friction so desperately but he's learnt to give in - michael will almost immediately cum in his pants if you quietly reassure him you'll clean up the mess you're both bound to leave on his clothes. half the fun (in his eyes, at least) is seeing you get flustered over the sheer amount of his load that's seeping into his boxers from just that little bit of friction

his favourite place to have you is on his lap - cockwarming, cuddling or napping, he does not care. he needs to have your face pressed into his neck with his larger frame providing you with warmth and stability

will rarely fist his cock but if you ever catch him, you might be able to make out his lips repeating the shape of your name over and over

for a long while at the start of your.. arrangement, he had no idea how to initiate sex. he'd just hover close to you, desperately hoping you'd notice the heat radiating from his massive, obvious bulge. would start to bite the inside of his cheek and guide your body towards him in a desperate hint if you didn't clock it immediately

he also did not know shit about the human anatomy, so he'll need you to guide him to where you want to be touched and with a bit of coaching, he'll learn the correct pressure and pace to get you off easily

if you tease him while he's in his overalls, the sight of his lower region slowly darkening with his endless pre and the sound of his haggard breathing devolving into animalistic grunts is nearly enough to make your knees give out

michael isn't a massive fan of fucking you on your bed, especially if your room is in a similar layout to his back at the institute. haunting memories brought on by the guards cast negative clouds across his mind and that is the last thing he wants with you. he'd much prefer to go at it against a wall, the couch or even the floor. most of the time, around his desk is where the action happens and your bed is solely reserved for sleep <3

he loves smearing his precum all over your face, loves letting his musk seep into your skin while your eyes glaze over with lust

he cups your chin, cheek and jaw whenever you have his full attention and his heart melts when you nuzzle into him - his thumb plays with your bottom lip and if you decide to suck on it to keep your mouth occupied, so expect to have mikey silently begging you to cockwarm him while his brain goes fuzzy

while you relax for the evening, watching a movie together, expect him to position you with your head on his thigh (your face way to close to his crotch ofc)

michael loves you sucking on his soft cock and warming him with your mouth, he adores the slow feeling of him growing hard as you moan and gag around his length

when you introduce him to the concept of the sixty-nine position, he absolutely short-circuits. what do you mean you can both suffocate in each other's musk while getting each other off?? what do you mean he can prop himself up above you so he can spend time teasing you while forcing you to choke on his length???

michael always cums a bit too quickly and a bit too much - the moment he enters you for the first time, he can't help but fill you up immediately (good thing he's blessed with inhuman stamina)

he's also the biggest fan of you offering to clean up the mess of his cum dripping down his shaft - if your ass is a bit tender and sore from his rough pace, he's more than happy to soften in your mouth while the two of you catch your breath and wind down

mikey isn't very confident with toys and would much rather pleasure you by himself, but he wouldn't mind learning slowly what you prefer over time

he's also not a fan of lube - it feels too cold on his skin and the slippery nature of it scares him a little, so the best way to get him all coated in pre (for your comfort ofc) is to rim him. his tip drools and spits out so much of his arousal whenever you fuck him with your tongue, rest assured it'll bubble down his shaft and drip onto your chest. the delicious flush of his neck and upper chest is a glorious sight to behold

he first feels the urge to make love to you slowly after he sees a steamy, romantic sex scene with a married couple on television - he wants to give you the warmth and care the actors portray on screen

when you first offered to give him head, he tentatively slapped his cock against your tongue to test waters and see if you liked the taste but ended up addicted to the feeling. he'll smack it against your lips and tongue every time you're on your knees for him

his heavy balls slapping against your chin while he floods your mouth with salty, thick warmth is one of his favourite sounds

he starts breathily whimpering in his gravelly voice whenever he fully bottoms out in your heat, one of the rare moments when he totally loses control over his lust for you

he grunts out the syllables of your name when he's about to cum, digging his fingers into your hips and nipping your neck, leaving deep marks on your skin

mikey gets the same rush whenever you both cum together as to when he stabs someone and kills them after a long game of cat and mouse - there's a reason why the french call it 'petit mortis', a little death

the first time the two of you had sex, it brought out such intense emotions from michael that he was left shaken, crying from confusion about the onslaught of feelings he just shared with you. he is originally torn between holding you close and never letting you go as well as instantly leaving and isolating himself in his own space - like he's used to. he needs time to fully mull over the situation and new sensations he experienced but he would really like to have you nearby incase he needs a hug :(

on a long day, after you've given him head, he'll softly catch his breath while watching you blissfully hum and rest your cheek against his thigh. he huffs a small chuckle as you press light kisses into his softening cock

myers really doesn't want to hurt your ass or bruise your upper thighs too much as he needs to have you perched on his lap whenever he can, but you can expect tender skin from his hips slapping into you as well as bruises from his grip on your waist and hips

if he was too rough with you the night before (maybe accidentally leaving bone-deep bruises or purple marks and scratches along your body), he'll disappear early next morning and return during breakfast with a fistful of fresh tulips as an apology, with their stems partially crushed. just be sure to rinse off the dirt still attached to the roots, it's the thought that counts :<

michael may be inexperienced and bashful but he'll try anything once if it gets you off and brings you pleasure

michael loves to place his hand around your throat, just as a reminder of his sheer strength and power over you. with the slightest amount of pressure, he could make your brain go dumb and your tongue loll out

he chokes you until your eyes become unfocused, your little gasps and whines becoming softer and softer. the proud glint in michael's eyes is deserved, as you fully trusted him with your life while you were in your most vulnerable position. he holds you close while you unsteadily catch your breath, mumbling about how good you are to him and stroking your hair all the while

if you're too shy to look up at him while he fucks you or gives you head, he'll tilt your chin up and groan when your cheeks flush at his blown out pupils

he's the type to not pull out after, needing to soften and catch his breath while still feeling connected, inadvertently overstimulating you without fail as his whole body is racked with aftershocks

if he's feeling mean, michael will make you hump his thigh while he palms at his dick during one of his arts and crafts sessions

he wipes the last dribbles of his cum on your inner thighs after he pulls out. he'll clean it either way - with a damp towel or his tongue, it's up to you <3

occasionally after a spree, he'll need to let his mind rest and will use you as his cute little fleshlight, burying himself deep inside you while guiding your hips along with his rhythm at a bruising pace. if you pay close attention, you'll see his lips forming silent prayers and whispers of apology whenever you yelp from the pace

his post-kill musk is potent enough to make your head spin. if you rest your cheek against his pectoral, you'll be able to feel his heartbeat start to slow against you :<

his guilty pleasure is pulling out while cumming thick spurts, slapping his tip across your skin while smearing his load all over you, be it your lips and cheeks or ass and thighs

michael doesn't want to disturb your sleep if he's needy, so he'll slip your hand in between his boxers and pajama pants to feel your smaller hand against his throbbing bulge. he's content to doze like that but expect to feel him humping into your fist while he sleeps. you may wake to the sound of sheets rustling as he licks up the mess he made, much too tired to change sheets but not wanting it to dry and soil your sheets

he insists on placing his hand firmly on the back of your neck whenever he takes you from behind - to stop you from fucking yourself back on his cock and squirming at his pace

after sex with mikey, it's a common occurrence for you both to be a panting mess on the floor when he's done, your throat sore from mindless babbling and loud moans - all complete with a wet, drool-covered spot on your shirt from his grunts through gritted, gnashed teeth. when he's floated back into the right headspace, he's absolutely mortified by his behaviour and is tentative to even glance at you in a less than innocent way for the next couple hours

if your soft body goes limp in his arms after a mind-blowing orgasm, he gets scared at first and stops his thrusts. he's worrying he hurt you but, once he realises you're alright, he'll support your head and neck and go completely feral, thrusting and grinding until he reaches his high as well

whenever you fall asleep ontop of him, he needs to have your face tucked into the crook of his neck - the scent of your hair and sex in the air lulls him to sleep quicker than any sedative could

he adores your attention while you both bask in your respective afterglows - your hands gently cradling his face while he tucks himself away is one of his favourite, most soothing actions of yours. he'll always rub circles into your skin in return

_ _ _ _ _

amab hcs

michael is inexperienced and completely driven by instinct when it comes to giving head - he wouldn't be deep-throating, instead focusing on your tip and licking along your veins. he's a master of giving handjobs, with the amount of spit he shamelessly coats you with (not to mention his rougher hands)

if he's particularly needy, he'll come up behind you and gently undo your belt while tracing his fingers over your zipper, nosing at your jaw and softly rutting into your ass while panting above you

the moment your fly is undone, his breathing gets ragged and drool nearly starts dripping down his chin

cages you against a bench or wall to rut against your ass and breathe in your scent after a long day at work

if you introduce him to rimming,, lord save your soul. his scruff rubs your ass raw with how often he goes to town on your tight, puckered hole. his favourite bit is pulling back and admiring how you glint in the light with his spit shining all over

of course, the extra spit only helps his efforts of bullying his throbbing cock into your poor hole

whenever michael is close to the edge while buried deep in you, he starts uncontrollably twitching and bumping your prostate, causing you to let out a pitchy whine at the unexpected feeling. every time without a doubt, his eyes roll back and growls into your ear at you clenching around him

he has a small photo shrine of your cocks together, a mess of cum and spit framed for his appreciation (he's a romantic)

his dirty fantasy is getting your attention while you're on the phone in bed by mouthing and groping at your cock, working you through the fabric of your pants

michael is obsessed with rutting his cock against yours, covering each other in your arousals, cum spurting up onto your chests as you nip and kiss at each other's chest and throat

_ _ _ _ _

afab hcs

mikey loses his mind a little each time you cream on his shaft, feeling your arousal dripping down to his balls and coating the insides of his thighs. just the thought of your slick coating him is enough to make his eyes roll back

he rips or cuts your underwear off you if he's too impatient to wait for you to fully undress

once michael is fully stuffed inside you, he gently traces where you meet, in awe of how he manages to fit in your heat

his large hands span over the bulge of his cock in your tummy, making you tear up at the pressure and drip onto the sheets

leans his head closer to your ear just to make sure you hear his groans and grunts while he destroys your pussy

his favourite sight is his pearly globs of cum oozing out of your puffy, soaked hole - made complete by the fucked out glaze in your eyes as you stare at the blurry spectre of a giant between your thighs

he tentatively gropes your thighs and enjoys warming his hands by sticking them up your shirt. if you both happen to make an appearance in public, expect him to crowd around you to try and shield you form from wandering eyes - he may be yours but you're also his, so no one has a right to touch or even look at your precious body (especially not your soft tits or ass, they're for him only)

teach him to tie his hair in a messy bun or acquire a hairband for him to keep his hair from getting sticky whenever he does down on you, slurping and worshipping your pussy like it's his god-given purpose on this earth

once he tries taking you in a mating press, he accidentally discovers heaven. he can fully dwarf you in his shadow and also cradle your pretty face while erratically thrusting and groaning in that raspy voice you love. if he fucks you dumb, he's more than happy to wipe away your tears

sometimes michael hesitates pushing into you for fear of it hurting too much, unintentionally resulting in him working you up by teasing your entrance with his thick cockhead then nudging your clit, fully soaking his length in your arousal

_ _ _ _ _

ftm hcs

mikey initially gets scared if you administer hrt yourself with a needle - he knows what happens to rowdy patients who get the needle back at the asylum. however, as he slowly notices physical changes in your body, he'll marvel at your form developing before his very eyes

michael's sadistic side comes out when he spanks your cock until your sloppy boycunt is drooling onto the mattress. he makes sure to gently slip his finger in your hole every so often, his delight in your whines is very evident when you can feel him throbbing under you

his strong forearms easily hold down your hips to stop them from rutting into his mouth whenever he sucks you off, making you shiver with every thrust of his tongue. his dick is neglected while he goes to town, not that mikey minds at all. he knows he'll be able to go balls deep after you've cum at least once to loosen up for him

due to his strength, he'll keep you still even while you become overstimulated, the pleasure bordering on pain but he's too far gone to care - this man becomes so pussydrunk that he can barely process that he's stained all of the material in your immediate vicinity with your arousal; your pants, his shirt, the carpet and not to mention the couch or bedsheets from his erratic wiping of his fingers when they get too slippery

loves to have you bouncing on his cock - grabbing your hips until they're bruised to control the pace and depth, pushing you to take all of him inside

sometimes if you look extra delectable while attempting to reach something off of a high shelf, michael may not be able to control himself and his craving for your taste - he will bend you over with no hesitation and make out with your cunt, nose glistening in your folds as his chapped lips graze against your tdick and his chin dripping with your pre. his massive hands groping your ass as he spreads your legs for better access

the rhythmic clapping of his heavy balls slapping your sopping cock is forever engrained in his mind, sometimes resurfacing at the most inconvenient times - he will be forced to rush home in the middle of an attempted spree just to feel your body against his

_ _ _ _ _

mtf hcs

michael chases the sensation of having you pressed up against him while you're wearing clothing he's gotten you

he loves you feeling pretty whenever you're on top, tucking your hair behind your ear and using his thumb to swipe his cum off your chin

he will make you do your makeup before you fuck, needing you to feel as beautiful as possible while he absolutely destroys your hole - lipgloss smeared, mascara running, hair mussed and bruises all over your hips. he views you as a goddess, so expect him to make you feel like one

when you guide him to take your balls in his mouth, he'll eagerly suckle on them then return to your tip for his reward, eager to lap up your arousal with obscene slurping noises and proud huffs of satisfaction

he has a small shrine of your panties he's borrowed, keeping the ones with the dainty floral details for 'creative inspiration'

mikey gently squeezes on the back of your neck when preparing to take you from behind - he cannot simply cum from you squirming in impatience and grinding into him, he's not even inside you yet (it would be a waste quite frankly)

as his stubble rubs you raw whenever he eats you out, prepare for the bubbling heat beneath your skin to return tenfold whenever he fucks your thighs like a madman

_ _ _ _ _

sorry if writing quality dropped, this took so long lmao. art the clown is next btw, look out for that.

thanks for reading. lmk if you liked it. if i got anything wrong, don't hesitate to tell me.

stay safe.

3K notes · View notes

deakyjoe · 6 months

Text

Every Breath You Take

Pairing: Michael Myers x Reader (afab but no pronouns used I don’t think)

Category: stalker romance (??), smut (!!)

Summary: It shouldn’t exhilarate you so much knowing a serial killer was stalking you. But you just can’t help yourself.

Warnings: 18+ only, smut, unprotected p in v sex (wrap it before you tap it), vaginal fingering, dry humping, biting, licking, creampie, overstimulation, motorboating, pain as pleasure, slight voyeurism/exhibitionism, choking, scent kink, multiple orgasms, nipple play, over the clothes handjob, under the clothes handjob, slight dubcon (only because Michael doesn’t talk but I tried to make it as clear as possible that they just want to fuck each other), stalking, mentions of injuries and blood, mentions of murder, breaking and entering, morally questionable reader, mask is on and off, lights stay off during sex, virgin Michael, a little dark I guess (??)

Word count: 6.4k

A/N: For those who love masked men (aka me). For those who want to fuck slashers (aka me). For those who love the quiet type (aka me). For those who love a tall man (aka me). For those who love a strong man (aka me). I wrote this for me basically. I don’t think there’s much of an audience for Michael Myers fics within my followers but hopefully it reaches the right side of Tumblr :)

Consider buying me a coffee :)

It was probably disgusting how much it excited you knowing he watched you every day.

He'd stand in your back yard each night, totally still, and just look through your windows for hours. And then, when he was satisfied you assumed, he'd leave. But he always came right back the next day at the same time.

When you'd first noticed him, you'd been terrified. Naturally. You knew exactly who he was, you watched the news and heard stories. And the white mask and blue coveralls were unmistakable. You'd seen him through your window and locked all of the doors immediately. Then you waited. Patiently.

You didn't know what you were waiting for. Him to kill you... or to defend yourself. Your chances of survival were slim, he was inhumanly strong from what you'd heard. But you clutched a knife in your hand nonetheless, mirroring him in a strange way, in case you did suddenly have to fight him off.

Luckily, it never came down to that dilemma as he left a couple of hours later without even a step closer to your back door. You blinked and he was gone.

He came back the next night and did the same thing. And then the next night. And the next. And the next. Until it became a ritual.

You went about your evening and he watched. You always wondered whether he watched you during the day as well but you'd never noticed him. You also wondered what it was about you that didn't make him murder you straight away.

You were older than his usual victims, sure. And he supposedly liked to commit most of his crimes whilst his victims were in the middle of sexual acts and you didn't tend to have many visitors over. But then what was making him fixate on you?

You just couldn't figure it out.

It got to a point where you were less scared of him and more intrigued. Having him stand and stare was getting boring, you wanted to know why. No. You craved knowing why. But you couldn't ask him. You'd heard he wasn't fond of talking.

So what were you supposed to do? Just let it carry on? That was your only choice.

But things changed one evening.

When he appeared something didn't seem quite right. For one, he was seven minutes later than usual. And his left shoulder slumped forward with all of his weight placed onto his right leg.

He was injured.

And you couldn't help but feel bad for him.

So, like an insane person, you unlocked your door and opened it for him.

As you stood in the doorway staring at him, you noticed him straighten up. As if he were surprised. But you knew the man didn't show emotions, much less any that would display him being caught off guard in any way. So you put it down as your imagination or a trick of the moonlight.

But you left your door open. An invitation. Like he needed one of those.

He didn't move so you left the doorway and went to retrieve your first aid kit from the cabinet above the sink. And by the time you'd found it and turned back around, Michael Myers was standing about a foot into your kitchen.

You stared at him for a second, unsure of the emotions turning in your stomach. "Close the door. It's cold outside."

You really didn't know if you could afford to be giving him orders but considering he hadn't murdered you in the months he'd been watching you, you thought that you were probably safe until you'd at least bandaged up whatever wounds hid beneath the blue jumpsuit.

Not sticking around to see if he did it, you walked to your lounge and put a lamp on. His footsteps were silent so you kept an eye on the archway where he'd emerge from the kitchen. Which he did a few seconds later.

"Sit on the couch."

Surprisingly, he did as he was told. But you thought you might be pushing your luck so you stopped telling him to do things.

As he sat down, not relaxed in the slightest with the best posture you'd ever seen, you realised that getting a wounded man to sit on your nice furniture was probably a bad idea. What if he got blood everywhere? Too late now. You weren't going to ask him to move.

You moved towards him slowly, trying not to spook him. He still had a knife clutched in his hand after all. It was bloodstained. You ignored it.

Michael watched you closely, his head didn't move but you could feel his gaze through the dark eyeholes of the mask. It didn't escape your notice that he was still extremely tall even when sat down.

"What's hurt?"

It was a stupid question, you could see where blood was seeping through his clothes and the slashes in the fabric was clear. But given your very recent history of poor choices, an obvious question seemed like the least of your worries.

He didn't respond anyway. No finger point, no head tilt, no shrug. Not a single inch of his body moved apart from his chest from his breathing. If you couldn't see his inhales and exhales then you'd think he was some sort of dummy or mannequin.

"Have you got a shirt on underneath the jumpsuit?"

Why were you still asking questions?

He still said nothing, which you expected, but he did raise a hand to pop the first couple buttons open to reveal a grey t-shirt under the blue coveralls.

You sighed and nodded. "Um, you're going to need to- to undo a few more buttons. So I can get to your shoulder."

The blood stain was getting bigger and staining his clothes a deep purple.

He tilted his head to the side at you, the most emotion he'd shown so far. But he did as he was told again and then pushed the suit down his arms so it lowered to his waist. You didn't fail to notice how the grey t-shirt clung to him nicely, maybe a size or two too small, and displayed every inch of rippling muscle that covered him. Explained his inhuman strength.

You took a few supplies from the kit and started cleaning up the injury on his shoulder, careful to avoid staring at how his sleeve stretched against his bicep.

When you noticed him staring at you from the corner of your eye, you cleared your throat and pulled away again to distract yourself with looking for other injuries. Which was a fine idea until you realised that blood was dripping from beneath the rubber that adorned his face.

You went to lift the edge of the mask, no intention of taking it off, but his large hands gripped your wrists before you even had the chance. The knife was suddenly forgotten on the cushion of the couch.

You gasped in pain, his hold was tight, but didn't pull away. Trying your hardest to meet his eyes as best you could, you attempted to explain. "I'm not going to take it off but I need to get to your neck. You're bleeding. Lift the mask to your chin and hold it there so I can clean your neck."

There were a few tense moments of heavy breathing from him before he let go and did as you said. He was too agreeable, very out of character from all of the stories you'd heard about him. Were people wrong? Or was he acting differently than usual? How were you supposed to know?

You shook the thoughts from your head and got on with cleaning him up. You couldn't find the source of the blood so assumed it must've been coming from higher up on his face. But you weren't going to ask him to lift the mask anymore. You were a risk taker, if the night was any indication of that, but you didn't have a death wish. Mostly.

"Done." You mumbled and stepped back a few paces, looking down to clean away all of your supplies.

By the time you looked up he was standing again fully clothed.

"You going to kill me now finally?" There was a hint of laughter in your voice. If he did you wouldn't blame him. You probably deserved it after inviting a serial killer into your home and treating him like his own personal nurse.

He didn't respond, just turned and left the room. And by the time you got to the kitchen to follow him out, he was gone and the back door was shut and locked like he'd never even been there.

"See you tomorrow night then." You grumbled to yourself, assuming he'd return as he usually did.

And he did.

Uninjured this time. To your relief and, honestly, slight disappointment. There was really something very wrong with you.

But the routine returned to normal. Michael Myers would appear in your back yard every night at the same time and watch you for hours with no sign of even attempting to enter your house to murder you. And he'd leave when he was done watching whatever he sought out from you.

The initial thrill you'd had knowing he liked watching you had disappeared quickly after you'd realised there was less danger than you'd expected. And the fact that you could get so much closer to him was more exciting than anything else.

The idea of him being inside your house again played on your mind constantly, rolling around in there as regularly as a forbidden fantasy. And maybe it was. But surely you weren't fantasising about Michael Myers... right?

Perhaps the memory of his muscles and his height, just his sheer size even, plagued your brain way more often than was considered normal. The thought that he could probably just snap you in two with his large hands and impossible strength if he chose to, how easy it would be for him to break in and end your life on his will. But he chose not to.

That set your nerves alight.

So you turned your nights into a staring contest.

He'd stand in your back yard and stare into your window. You'd stand in your kitchen and stare out of your window.

And you slowly got more daring. You began to retire to bed earlier, going upstairs to your bedroom and changing right in his direct view. It was one of the few times he moved, tilting his head up slightly to see you better through the mask.

You didn't give him a full show, knowing it probably wasn't what he wanted. He liked to kill "promiscuous" people after all. But it was enough to give him an idea, a way to tease him. It was entertaining for you at least, even if he wasn't bothered.

But then one night when you noticed that he was a few feet closer to your house, you realised it was probably working.

He was tempted.

Whether it was to kill you or to do something else, you weren't sure. But you were exhilarated either way.

When he returned obviously injured again a few nights later, you sighed to yourself in annoyance. Yes, you were excited he'd be in your house again. But out of need, not want. You still unlocked your door and left it open for him as you waited in the lounge nevertheless.

When he emerged from the dark archway between your kitchen and your lounge, you looked him up and down. His stance was better than last time but he was covered in more blood. You deduced that it probably wasn't his.

"Sit." You whispered hoarsely. "Please."

Like manners were going to affect whether he killed you or not.

It went pretty much the same as the time before, cleaning the blood from him as best you could and bandaging up what was easy to access. He didn't flinch or wince, not even at the stuff that made your toes curl just from touching.

It wasn't until you were just finishing off spreading some antibacterial lotion on a gash on his thigh that you noticed he was breathing heavier than usual. You looked up at him and frowned, confused. But when he gave you no indication as to why he was suddenly almost hyperventilating, you shrugged it off and reached for a band-aid. As you glanced towards the wound to get an idea of the size you'd need for it, you realised what was wrong.

"Oh."

He was hard.

"Oh."

The prominent bulge in his crotch wasn't shy in showing you that it was there. He was big, to say at the very least.

Your mouth opened and closed a couple of times before you settled on a reassurance. "It's okay. This happens. Especially when someone is touching you a lot."

You figured this was the most he'd been touched in over a decade.

"I'll just uh..." You stood up to step away from him but he launched his arm forward to grab you by the wrist, not letting you go any further.

"Michael..."

He answered you by tugging your body into his lap, legs straddling either side of his thighs. You made sure not to settle your weight onto him, very conscious of what that could lead to.

But he had other ideas.

He planted both of his large hands on either side of your waist and pushed you to sit fully against him. And there was a lot to sit against.

You bit your tongue to prevent any noise coming out. What now? What did he expect?

His breathing was shaky as he surveyed you through the small eyeholes of his mask, hands hovering over your sides for a second.

You couldn't deny that this position, this close proximity, was turning you on. Especially feeling how hard he was pushed up against you.

He seemed to decide what he wanted to do next as his fists gripped the fabric of your pyjama shirt, suddenly tearing it open so buttons flew everywhere and then ripping it off of you and tossing it to a darkened corner of the room. His hands didn't hesitate it exploring the new uncovered areas of skin, his rough callouses against your soft flesh. He was clearly enjoying this new adventure as he appeared to grow impossibly harder beneath you. Lots of him was impossible.

The clasp he had on your breasts was almost painful but your eyes rolled back in pleasure nevertheless. You liked that he was manhandling you, the strength you'd been fantasising about since day one finally being used on you.

His hands slid down your sides until they met your hips, fingers digging in and pulling them against his. A choked moan escaped your mouth drowning out the sound of his own grunt. When Michael decided that he seemed to like that, he did it again. Rougher this time. And quicker. Then he set a pace doing it over and over again. Your hands flew to his shoulders to give yourself something to hold onto, some grounding. Because this was more than you could handle.

How could something so simple feel so good?

The feeling of his coveralls rubbing against you through the thin material of your sleep shorts was heavenly. That, mixed with his hardness pushing against you in all the right place meant you were in pure ecstasy.

The uncontrollable noises leaving you would've been embarrassing if it weren't for the fact that this was the best you'd ever felt. And you hadn't even had sex. Yet.

Barely a sound left Michael, just the occasional short groan to go along with his heavy breathing.

You couldn't quite tell where he was looking until his head suddenly snapped down and his eyes clearly fixated on where your breasts were bouncing with the rapid movement of the two of you rocking against each other. A slightly louder noise left him then.

There was no rest for you, even if your legs did grow tired and you ran out of breath because he wouldn't let you stop moving. You knew you were probably creating a wet patch on his clothes and that would only grow bigger when he finally came. You were surprised he was lasting this long to be honest. For someone who had been locked up most of his life and hadn't had any sexual experience, he had some stamina in him. But maybe he wasn't a virgin. Was your assumption wrong?

You didn't get time to dwell on it as his arm suddenly locked around your waist and he stopped the two of you. Looking down at him, he was almost the perfect picture of composure. Just some heavy breathing indicated what the two of you had been up to. You couldn't imagine you looked quite as calm.

The arm around you stiffened as he titled the two of you to the side.

"What are you doi- woah." The room was plunged into darkness as he switched the lamp off and then pulled you tight against him again. "Why did you- oh."

Your unfinished question was answered with the sound of rubber hitting the floor penetrating your ears and the feeling of Michael's breath against your skin. You didn't get the chance to question him further as to why he did that as he immediately buried his face in the valley of your breasts and rocked your hips against his to get the friction going again, his free hand rubbing up and down your thigh as the two of you moved.

You bit your bottom lip, extremely happy that he hadn't decided to just stop and leave, that this was still going. The happiness only extended when he licked a drop of sweat off of your skin and you almost screamed. But you couldn't imagine if was the kind of screaming he was used to so you bit your tongue.

Trying to adjust to the sudden absence of light by blinking, but having little success, you looked down to where you imagined Michael's head would be. You saw nothing. Naturally, the only solution to that was to move your hands up his shoulders, up his neck and into his hair. As you curled your fingers into the locks, you were pleasantly surprised to find how soft it was.

You would've smiled or giggled to yourself if he hadn't chosen that exact moment to bite into your collarbone and thrust up underneath you. Your response of tugging on his hair seemed to go down well as he did it again.

"Fuck." You whined against the top of his head, eyes scrunching shut.

That caught Michael's attention, his head pulling back and his free hand abandoning your thigh to wrap around the front of your neck, squeezing slightly when situated there.

You knew what he was doing. Mixing what he usually found pleasurable with this new experience. You wondered whether it was getting him off even more. If the way he was practically throbbing beneath you was any indication, then yes.

This added element of danger sent a shiver down your spine and an intense pulse to your core, making you rock against him without any prompting from him at all. You could still breathe but you knew he could stop that at any second if he chose to.

A breathless moan rumbled from the back of your throat as he squeezed your neck tighter, the arm locked around your waist pushing you against him even harder.

You were so close. So, so close. You chased your high like it was running away from you, rubbing yourself against him as roughly as you could. But there was no need.

Because when Michael leaned forward again to lick a long strip up from your left breast to your neck and then bit you, hard, it was like you saw the pearly gates of heaven. Or the fiery descent to hell.

Your orgasm crashed over you in hot waves as you collapsed against him, forcing his body to hit the back of the couch as your forehead met his and you gasped into his mouth, lips almost grazing but not quite meeting. Your grasp on his hair was tight, tugging on the roots like they were your lifeline. Your naked chest pressed against his clothed one, and that combined with the slight pain of the hair pulling was enough for Michael to come underneath you.

You could feel him twitching against you, only making you shudder against him more, as the wet patch on his jumpsuit grew as you predicted. The quietest extended groan left his mouth as he tensed beneath you, arms locking around you. His hips bucked up against yours a few times weakly before he grew limp.

You rested for a moment, trying to gain some strength back in your shaking legs, before you pushed off of him and stood up. Feeling around in the air for the lamp, you covered your eyes before switching it back on.

"Find your mask and put it back on." You instructed, waiting a moment for him to do so.

He didn't make any noise as he moved, as usual, and the only indication you had that he was done was the looming feeling of his presence in front of you and the sound of his exhales rattling the rubber that adorned him.

You uncovered your eyes and squinted against the sudden light, looking up to find Michael almost chest to chest with you. Well, head to chest. He was very tall after all.

Your gaze flickered down to his left hand which was slightly extended towards you. He was holding your pyjama shirt. The one he'd ruined by ripping all of the buttons off.

"Oh, thanks." You took it from him and put it back on, holding it together at the front by crossing your arms against your chest.

Probably a bad idea considering this position made the top gape open and your breasts push together to create an exaggerated cleavage. Michael didn't seem to mind as he lifted his right hand and traced a finger across the swell of your breasts for a moment before dropping his arm back to his side again.

You dropped your eyes away in embarrassment, and slight arousal, and noticed the mess the two of you had made on his blue jumpsuit.

"You're gonna want to wash that." You said, meekly gesturing towards it. You couldn't deny that seeing the stains that you'd made together was making your skin feel hot again.

He didn't even look to see what you were talking about, just continued to stare at you through his mask.

You tried to come up with something to say but nothing sprung to mind. What were you supposed to say to a serial killer that you'd just dry humped and orgasmed on top of?

It seemed like you didn't need to come up with a one-sided conversation starter though as he suddenly turned on his heel and left the room. You hesitated before following him. Stupid really since you couldn't even keep up with him at the best of times, especially not now on weak legs.

And, as usual, by the time you'd reached the kitchen he was gone and the door was locked.

He continued to return every night as normal but didn't enter your house again. No injuries seemed to be inflicted upon him for a while. You were beginning to get bored. Sighing every time he left with no hint of coming inside again.

Which is why a few days later you were very shocked by his out of character behaviour.

You woke up cold, your blankets stripped from your bed and the feeling of someone watching you sinking a chilling freeze into your bones. It was soon clear why you felt that way.

His silhouette was partially outlined by the moonlight coming through your bedroom window as he stood over you.

You shot up in bed, giving yourself a head rush. "Michael, what the fu-" You were cut off as he grasped the hand that was reaching for your bedside lamp. "No light? Why?"

He answered your question by pressing something rubber into your palm. His mask.

"Oh. Okay..." You frowned to yourself as you dropped the mask on your nightstand. What was he expecting you to do if he was injured but you couldn't see him? "I can't clean your wounds if it's dark."

It was too dark to see his face but the natural light from outside was enough to see him shake his head no. He wasn't injured. What did he need then?

"Then what? Why are you here? At this time?" You were still slightly dazed from just waking up, trying to shake some coherent thought into your head. What was the time? He'd already been and gone earlier that evening. How had he gotten in? You were sure you'd locked the door? Maybe that made no difference?

His breathing was heavy, shoulders moving up and down with his laboured inhales and exhales.

His grip on your wrist hadn't loosened as he pulled your hand towards him, resting it on his abdomen and then slowly dragging down and down and-

"Oh."

He was hard.

Very hard.

"You want me to-"

You'd guessed by this point that he probably hated hearing you talk as he was always cutting you off. This time by pushing on your shoulders so you fell flat on your back and bounced on the mattress. And then he was on top of you in mere fractions of a second.

He was smothering.

His mere presence was enough to stop your breath in your throat and having him be this close, having all of his weight pressed against you this way, practically stole the oxygen from your bloodstream.

His breath was hot on your face, his nose barely grazing against yours before he moved to trace it along your hairline and then down your neck where he inhaled deeply, groaning lowly at your scent.

You reached up to touch him but he was too fast, clasping both of your wrists in one hand and pinning them above your head.

"This doesn't work if I can't touch you." You mumbled frustratedly, more to yourself than to him.

It wasn't strictly true but what did he know? Last time he hadn't used any real technique, just done whatever felt best for him which luckily also felt good for you. He'd used the mere skill brought to him by innate exploration. Maybe this time he'd be more purposeful with you.

Unlikely.

The statement you'd made seemed to have some sort of influence on him though as he slowly let go of your wrists and let you dig one into his hair, where you gently pulled on it, and let the other drift to undo the top buttons of his coveralls. You popped them open cautiously, one by one, until your nails stroked the material of his grey undershirt. You assumed it was grey as usual.

Your fingers wandered to the neckline where you swooped the index to get a feel of his skin. He froze above you but didn't stop you.

"I'm going to undo more. Just stop me if you want. But gently." You clarified, not wanting bruised wrists in the morning which was guaranteed if he grabbed them with his vice-like grip again.

Each button fell open easily, like they were dying to be free from their clasps, and Michael didn't stop you once. And when the last one was undone, he leant back slightly on his knees to let you push the jumpsuit down so it bunched around his waist just like the first time he'd been in your house.

You took the opportunity to let your hands roam the muscles you'd been admiring since the first time you'd seen him up close. They were solid. He was solid.

He crowded over you again, breathing getting more rapid the more you touched him. He let out a soft sound when your hands reached his crotch, palming him over his clothes.

"Take them off and I can touch you more." You offered, attempting to sound sultry but sure you just sounded desperate instead.

He hesitated but did as you said, standing up to push the jumpsuit further down his legs but still not taking it off completely. Then he was on top of you again, pushing your hand against him before you even had the chance to realise he was so close again. You squeezed him through his underwear and he bucked his hips against your palm.

You did that for a while, moving your hand up and down the outline of him through the material and ignoring the ache between your own legs. Getting him riled up was a lot of fun, especially when he let noises slip every now and again. You just wished you could see the reactions on his face. Did he bite his lip? Did he screw his eyes shut? Was his jaw dropped open? You guessed you'd never know.

While those thoughts plagued your mind, it seemed Michael had changed his. And what was happening wasn't good enough for him anymore. So he slapped your hand away suddenly. Before you could even begin to utter a sentence, he ripped your pyjama shirt open.

Great, another one ruined.

His hands shot to your chest, away from where they'd been resting either side of your head previously, and he started to knead the flesh. Your back arched, pushing your chest closer to his and making your nipples rub against the fabric of his t-shirt. Michael must've figured out that the stimulation was good based on the gasp you let out as he moved his attention to your nipples, flicking and tweaking them with his fingers.

He didn't seem hesitant at all in what he was doing but it was also clear he wasn't experienced either. There was no rhythm to his touches, he just did whatever felt right. And that worked for you.

You grew extremely wet when he started grinding himself against your core from instinct alone. You wanted more, craved more, needed more.

Your hands flew to the waistband of his underwear, tugging them down a few inches to pull him free. You knew he was big but having the real thing in your hand, no clothing barriers at all, was a whole other story.

You could hear his teeth clicking shut when you started to stroke him, skin on skin, spreading his pre-cum up and down his length.

"Fuck, Michael. Jesus." You garbled, head wild with lust and nothing else. "Need you inside me."

He stopped moving at that, hands falling away from your chest and hips no longer bucking to pump himself into your palm.

Maybe he really was clueless.

"You know? Inside me?" You reached around to find one of his hands, pushing it down the waistband of your sleep shorts until his fingers met your wetness.

He wasn't even doing anything but the sensation alone of him touching you made you shiver. That was until he seemed to understand what he was feeling. His head tilted to the side, just about visible in the moonlight, as he let his fingers explore. As he grazed your clit, you squeaked quietly. He seemed to like that so he did it a couple more times, just to illicit a reaction out of you. But he got bored quickly and kept on feeling.

When he reached the source of the wetness, he pushed a finger in. You moaned. Loudly. He liked that a lot more, so pulled out the finger and reinserted with a second one joining in. Your eyes rolled back at this. And the sounds you made reached a new decibel. Michael did the same thing again and again, pumping his fingers just to feel you clench around him.

When he eventually pulled his fingers free, you whined in protest before the sounds of him sucking the taste of you off of his skin hit you. And you decided that maybe the loss of contact was okay if that's what he was going to do instead.

When he was satisfied with that, Michael tore your shorts off of you completely and tossed them over his shoulder somewhere. Then his underwear was pushed further down and he was spreading your legs apart, as far as they would go.

Your heart rate picked up further than it was already running, probably entering dangerous territory. But you didn't care. It was finally about to happen.

Michael crawled over you, shadowed face hanging above yours. You just nodded at him, wondering whether he was able to see you do it. Either way, he seemed to get the message that you really really wanted to do this. So, with a hand on one of your thighs to hold you in place, and the other on his cock to guide him, he pushed into you.

At that moment you decided that you were definitely seeing the devil in the afterlife.

But it was worth it for this.

He stretched you open perfectly, gliding in with ease considering how wet you already were. But that was nothing in comparison to how you felt hearing him letting out what could only be described as a mixture between a whimper and a pleasured groan against your ear.

If never hearing him talk meant that the noises he let out during sex made you tingle, then you'd take his silence any day.

The hand on your thigh moved to curl your leg around his waist, changing the angle so he moved into you deeper. And the other rested against your head to keep him propped up. Yours scraped down his back in ecstasy, probably leaving nail marks along the plains of his skin. You were sure he wouldn't mind, he'd had worse injuries.

He stayed still once he'd entered you, stiff but breathing heavily.

"Move, Michael." You whispered. "Please move."

And when he pulled out and slammed back in again, you were positive you could see the grim reaper knocking at your door ready to whisk you away to the tortuous pits of hell.

All you knew is that you certainly weren't seeing heaven after this.

Michael grunted, head hanging so his soft hair tickled against your skin. But he seemed to get the idea as he pumped in and out of you at a ruthless pace. Skin slapped together, your chests rubbing against one another as you bounced up and down the surface of the bed, which shuffled along the floor with every thrust.

You'd never known sex to be so loud. Maybe you'd just never had sex as good as this. Because the roaring of blood in your ears definitely wasn't helping.

You couldn't help the sounds that were escaping your parted lips, thankful that your neighbours' houses weren't close enough to hear you. Your other leg moved to wrap around Michael's waist, tugging him closer to you and locking him in place. You need him to be as close as possible, to be as deep inside you as possible.

The hand on your thigh dug in deep, certainly leaving bruises, before trailing up the length of your body and wrapping around the front of your neck. He pushed down this time, squeezing slightly to cut off your airway just a little. It excited you more than anything and made you clench around him.

That seemed unexpected to Michael as he faltered slightly before pounding into you harder than before, having absolutely no mercy on your body. You only clenched harder.

His pattern began to fumble, thrusts become more forceful but less regular. He was getting close. And you weren't far off either. You let one of your hands fall from his back and placed it between the two of you, starting to rub your clit. He took notice of this and pushed your hand away to replace it with his own, letting oxygen rush back into your lungs again.

The head rush combined with the pressure on your clit tipped you over the edge into oblivion. You choked out a muffled scream as your orgasm ripped through your body, tears falling from the corners of your eyes.

But Michael didn't let up for a second. This just seemed to give him a new wave of energy as his pace picked up rubbing tight circles on your clit and slamming into you with no forgiveness.

You approached the edge rapidly again, the raw feeling over overstimulation pushing you closer and closer. His sweat dripped onto you, creating a sheen that let your bodies slide against each other in erotic heat. You could feel every inch of him either against you or inside of you. And that thought made you come again. This time the scream was less muffled.

The feeling of you clenching around him again like a vice had Michael finally hitting his peak too, his face buried into the crook of your neck as he pumped you full of his cum. If you weren't so spent already, that would've made for three orgasms.

He bit down on the skin of your shoulder to prevent any noises coming out too loud, but he couldn't mask all of them. He twitched inside of you as he gave a few last lazy bucks of his hips before he pulled out completely, standing up and looking down at you.

You really wondered how good his vision must be in this light for him to be able to see you. Or maybe he couldn't. Maybe he was faking it.

Either way you didn't care, too exhausted suddenly to really think about it. You began to drift to sleep, desperately trying to keep your eyes open to see what he'd do next. You vaguely remembered seeing him get dressed again. But you don't remember him leaving. Or moving you to rest your head back on your pillow. Or him pulling your blankets over you again.

Maybe he didn't do any of that. Maybe you did in your sleepy state.

It didn't matter. He was still gone before you even had the chance to register what happened.

But you were pleased when the next night, you glanced out of your kitchen window and found him stood there as usual, watching you. From now on, you were just going to leave your door unlocked to make it easier for him.

A/N: To celebrate my Halloween, I watched Halloween (1978) home alone whilst my housemates all went to a party. It inspired me to write this.

#michael myers #michael myers x reader #michael myers x you #halloween #halloween 1978 #slashers #slasher #michael myers fic #michael myers fanfiction #michael myers smut #slasher fic #slasher x reading #slasher x you #ej’s fics #ej’s writing #deakyjoe’s fics #deakyjoe’s writing

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welcometowhore-rrorville · 10 months

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I AM LIVING FOR YOUR SLASHER HEADCANONS, esp the last post!! but i have a question: what do you think michael would do if the next time he wants to fuck, they’re like “nope, don’t want to, you didn’t make me cum” and is generally just provoking him and saying shit like “i can just find someone that CAN satisfy me” and other dumb shit. would he not care?? get jealous? knife through the door?? so many possibilities

Thank you thank you!!! <3

𝒞𝒶𝓇𝑒𝒻𝓊𝓁 𝒲𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒴𝑜𝓊 𝒲𝒾𝓈𝒽 𝐹𝑜𝓇

Featuring: Michael Myers

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: oral sex, fingering, rough sex, overstimulation, general nsfw things, mdni, i got carried away, unedited because I didn't think i'd write this much

As for your question(s):

I think it definitely depends on how long you've known him. The only way he'd give a flying fuck about what you think is if he was down bad. Especially if we're talking about the OG Michael. RZ Michael is easier to convince to actually give a shit what you want in bed, but it's still not a priority for him. Still, there are certain personality traits you can exploit to get what you want. . .

When you first brought up that you were unsatisfied in bed, it was a very soft comment after he was done and zipping his jumpsuit back up.

"I didn't even cum. . ." you mumbled, staring at your bare abdomen and leaking cunt. It was all him. You didn't even have the chance to pleasure yourself; it was too difficult with him constantly flipping you over and manhandling you. Your body was sore and bruised, but you laid there, discontent.

You moved your gaze to look at his masked face. Judging by the way he stopped his movements, he'd heard you. You bit your lip, turning your eyes away and down to your hands which fiddled with each other. You knew he didn't care, but it would be nice if he did.

"Just get out, okay?" you spoke, embarrassed and a little angry. "I'll just get myself off since you can't seem to do it."

Your tone had him walking around to the side of the bed, grabbing his discarded knife from the nightstand. You flinched, but didn't bother to run. If he wanted to kill you, he would have already.

Just as you figured, he turned back around, trudging out of your bedroom with the blade in his grip. You rolled your eyes. You were half tempted to call up and old friend of yours for a night, but realized that might end in bloodshed. Michael was much too possessive for that.

Suddenly, an idea crossed your mind. You knew Michael was selfish, but he also always had something to prove. He wanted to, no, needed to be the best at everything. Nobody could escape, outrun, or hide from him, and he knew that. So what if. . .

It was a few days later when he came back, heavy footsteps on your porch alerting you. Still, you pretended not to notice, phone up to your ear as you chatted. You were leaned against the kitchen counter, occasionally popping some popcorn into your mouth.

The door to your house creaked open before shutting again. You paid no mind.

"Go out? Ha," you spoke, fingers moving around a stray popcorn kernel absentmindedly. "If I want to get drunk, I'll do it in my own home, thank you very much."

At this point, he was looming in the kitchen doorway, but you didn't even bother with a glance.

"Oh, go out to meet someone, huh? Yeah, I guess that would be nice. . . I mean sure, there's a guy that stops by, but I'd be lying if I said I was satisfied." You leaned against your fridge, his massive form still lingering just a few feet away.

"It's just. . . other people I've been with have gotten me off four, five times a night, but this guy? Not once. Yeah. You heard me. Not once."

You made sure to emphasize that last phrase. You knew the dangerous game you were playing, but you didn't care. "Talk to him? Girl, I've tried. He's like a brick wall. Doesn't even say goodbye. As soon as he's done he's out the door. Rude? Tell me about it. Sure, I've had better, but he always keeps crawling back looking like a kicked puppy. I just kind of feel sorry for him."

You didn't have time to speak again before the phone was ripped from your grasp and tossed carelessly across the kitchen, plastic pieces shattering across the tile.

One hand wrapped around your throat while the other rested just beside your head, almost denting your poor fridge with the force. The choke was painful but not deadly, and you locked eyes with the culprit, staring intently.

He pulled you against him before slamming you back against the fridge, and you winced at the sudden force. "What's wrong with you?" you sputtered out, your hands trying to fight the grip on your throat.

He glanced at the destroyed phone, and you had to stifle a smirk from appearing on your lips.

With another slam, he finally released his hand from your neck, and you took in a few shaky breaths. Still, he loomed close enough to leave you pressed against him.

"You're angry," you spoke, rubbing the marks forming on your neck. "I assumed Michael Myers never got angry."

He looked to the shattered telephone again before looking back at you. He wanted an explanation.

"What do you want me to say? It's true. And I'm pissed about it. All you ever do is use me then leave. I haven't had a proper orgasm in weeks!" You pushed your hands against his chest angrily, but he didn't budge. "I know you're not a good man, but it still isn't fair. I can't even call anyone because you'll have a knife through their neck before they can get their pants off."

He let out a breath, both hands finding purchase on your hips. "Now's not the time," you huffed, moving to push his hands away. His grip tightened. You headbutted his chest, forehead resting against the rough material of his jumpsuit. How could he be raring to go at a time like this? "Unless you've got anything planned for me tonight, I'm not interested."

He didn't falter. You looked back up to try and read his face through his mask. It did not work. You could tell he was. . . different than usual, but he was probably still pissed off from your words over the phone.

His fingers nestled behind the waistband of your shorts, and in one fell swoop they dropped to the floor. You stayed silent. He never had the decency to take your clothes off. It was always ripped or sliced, and there was never any time taken. Hell, he'd never taken your shorts off without your underwear going with.

You stifled a laugh. Was he actually. . . trying?

He slid a knee between your thighs, pinning you. One hand explored your upper half, sliding under your shirt until he hit your bra. His other hand travelled downwards, slipping underneath your panties. You felt a rough digit slide against your clit and let out a sudden breath. Quickly, he backtracked, moving back up until he found that same spot.

You had to bite your lip to prevent a gasp from leaving it. You couldn't remember the last time you'd been stimulated there. It was suddenly all too-sensitive.

Two fingers caught the small nub, and you had to grip his shoulders to prevent yourself from falling. The digits toyed with it, squeezing and brushing like he was testing something. Your forehead pressed against his chest as heavy breaths left you.

One hand worked at massaging your chest, running a thumb against your nipple, while the other played with your clit harshly. You didn't expect him to be gentle in the slightest, but it still had you shimmying your hips in discomfort. It's not that you weren't aroused, and in fact, you were all too turned on. He'd never shown any interest in any part of you besides your cunt and mouth, and even then it was only to slide his dick into. This? This was all new. This feeling of rough hands overtaking your body, touching your skin, pleasuring you for the first time. . .

You pushed your hips forwards, trying to gain friction. With any luck, you could actually get off tonight.

Suddenly, all hands were off of you and he stepped back, tilting his head.

You rushed to hold yourself up, knees wobbly. You shot daggers at him, eyes burning. He stopped. Why the fuck did he stop?

He stared at you, waiting for something. You crossed your arms over your chest, looking as put-together as you could with wetness creeping down your thighs and shorts discarded on the floor.

"I'm not apologizing, if that's what you want," you muttered. "Congratulations, you found the clit. Took you long enough. You'll have to work a little harder if you're looking to clear your name."

In a flash, he had you hauled over his shoulder, and you let out a gasp of surprise. You could only sigh as he took you to your destination.

You were dropped onto your bed, legs dangling off the front as he pushed you down into the mattress. You cocked a brow.

In an event you'd never thought would happen, he kneeled down in front of you, hands spreading your thighs apart. Was this a dream? You were in shock. There's no way he was going to. . .

You were pulled out of your thoughts when your panties were slid down your legs and tossed aside. It didn't take long before one hand was back between your legs, rubbing your clit as the other pressed against your stomach to keep you in place. You couldn't move your thighs which were locked apart, blocked by his shoulders.

You couldn't sit up with the way he had you pinned, and so stared at the ceiling, hands gripping the sheets.

A new sensation startled you, and you tried desperately to sit up enough to see, but it was no use.

It was his tongue, dragging up your folds until he reached your clit. He took the nub in his mouth, and you had to slap a hand over your mouth to prevent the noise that threatened to come out.

That old and familiar feeling built within you, like a spring coiling and coiling, ready to snap. Your mind went blank as a tension built within you. It was like everything but your cunt was numb. There, feeling was in overdrive. Every swipe of his tongue, every prod of his fingers inside of you, swiping forward to push against your favorite spot: it was too much.

You came with a breathless gasp, back arched as your hands dug into the sheets. Even without seeing, you knew your cunt was a mess. You could feel your cum seeping out. You could smell the scent of sex in the room. Your thighs shook, pussy clenching around nothing.

You expected him to pull back, but instead you felt his tongue licking at your cunt, swiping up any spill into his mouth. You let out a whine as he prodded inside, tongue lapping up your wetness.

Digits were back to circling your clit, and you moaned, still much too sensitive. Despite this, he had no intentions of stopping, instead switching out his fingers for his mouth as he thrust a finger inside of you. You had no time to process before another joined the first. Your head pressed desperately against your bedsheets.

"Slow down," you gasped, voice shaking. He didn't heed your words, and in fact, sped up the way his fingers pushed in and out of you. You whined. The tension was already back and ready to snap within you.

"Michael," you cried, eyes clenched shut. "Please!" You weren't sure what you were pleading for.

You came again, more violently than the last. Over and over your cunt pulsed, leaking your cum to pool at your enterance, only to be pushed back in with the shove of his fingers.

"Okay! Okay! You win!" you panted, wiping the sweat from your face.

When he still showed no signs of letting up, all you could do was let out a weak groan. You got what you desired, you supposed. But it seemed he found something he liked as well.

All this because you decided to talk a little shit about him. You didn't dare tell him there was nobody on the other line.

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1-800-cr33py · 3 months

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I know it didn’t win the poll but I humbly ask you to write that RZ! Micheal Myers size kink fanfiction whenever you have the time and if you are feeling up to it🙏

{this is so late and I sincerely apologize TvT}

Sedatives

Tags: Dub-Con, Size Kink, Rough Sex, Choking, Manhandling, Reader is mentions to be a nurse some time ago, blood, knives, overstimulation, Michael is a warning himself. a/: this will most likely be one out of 2 parts anon im so sorry TvT

Sweet thing you were, you’d give the shirt off your own back if someone in need called for it, so giving and so trusting to even the most hardened criminals. It was a wonder how someone like you graced the halls of Smith’s Grove Sanitarium. You, a star-eyed nurse fresh from medical school. The scum and slime that riddled the halls of the hellish “sanctuary” you’d been accepted into. You skip down the halls with your checklist and medicine cart in tow. You were kind. You were happy. You’d given patients who’d hadn’t seen the sun in years the same kindness as one would give to an old friend. But you favored one more than the others.

Michael fucking Myers.

Silent halls.

Odd shadows.

Creaking wheels.

The usual ambiance of Smith’s Grove had finally settled within your nerves after a long long few months. You, with your now worn in uniform, counted the rooms with an intent gaze. On the left, even numbers, and parallel to them were odds. Though it was a weird concept, there was a reason. Those on the left, the doctors deemed ‘safe’ and had the possibility of rehabilitation.

Inmates that resided on the right wing however, well you didn’t quite know if you’re being honest, you weren’t allowed to even breath the wing’s direction yet. But one digresses. Your low heels made a blunt click click click upon the cold floors as you neared your station, medicine cart in tow. Your manicured hand reached for your ID, ringing yourself in as the loud pang alerted you of the unlocked status of the door, which was shoved open by your hip as you passed a polite nod to security. Your trek was cut short however, your overseer tugging you aside with a rather harsh hand.

“ You’re the medicine girl right?”

medicine girl…right. Giving a curt nod he sighed, his breath reeking of cheap coffee and some kind of alcohol. His orders were short, clipped and rather rude. Though the next words he uttered left your mouth gaping like a fish out of water.

“ You’re doing both wards. Kirsten…had an incident. “

Fucking hell.

So now, here you were, approaching your last patient for the night. With security stalking behind you with scowls as they glared at patients through the tiny windows. You gulps, it was never patients that scared you, no. It was the sleazes that worked outside the cells. Their wolffish stares and ugly grins. You shook your head, you were approaching Michael’s cell.

You didn’t know much about him, only whispers of the monster, the brute that killed most of his family. A grade A killer, someone that should be locked away from society if not for Mr. Loomis’s need to study him like some kind of bug. But, you being you, wouldn’t let that stop you from being kind. That’s what irked you most about people here, these patients were still human at the end of the day. They still bled, they still died, they had interests and dislikes and personalities. You sighed, eying the dainty wrist watch. ‘ Just an hour and a half..’ you thought as some scum of a man unlocked the heavy metal door. Eying you as you motioned him to move aside.

“ Careful, he hasn’t seen such a young thing like you in a while…might finally remember he’s got a cock. “ the guard, who’s tag read Pierson, chuckled, elbowing his colleague. You could feel their gaze raking across your body, internally you gagged. Lurching forward was a far easier than you wanted to admit, medicines and needles clattering at the motion as the door slammed behind you, leaving you to jump.

Michael’s room was…interesting looking at it.

Buzzing overhead lights gave some relief as you tended to your cart, organizing the arrangement of pills and sedatives in their respective cup to serve to the inmate, who’s back was turned to you, fiddling with another mask that would surely find its way with the rest that perched upon the greening walls. Finally, you found the correct assortment. Smiling to yourself, you turned to face the mountain of a man.

“ Alright Mr.Myers, here’s your dailies! Dr. Loomis upped your sedatives so if you feel a bit off thats the cause! “ you chirped, leaving the cup a bit of a distance. Like you’d heard from the other nurses, Michael gave no indication of acknowledgment, hands stained with the glue-water mixture. The masks on the wall drew your attention, though you didn’t dare raise a hand to touch the precious things, knowing how it felt to have your art defiled by ignorant hands. “ You have a lovely night Mr. Myers! The mask are gorgeous as well! Truly a work of art. “ you smiled, warmth radiating from your aura.

Oh sweet thing. What have you done?

#1800cr33py #reqs open #slashers smut #slasher fanfiction #slashers x reader #slasher x reader #slasher fandom #rz myers x reader #rz!michael myers #michael myers smut #michael my beloved #michael myers x reader #send reqs #anon request

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pastelclovds · 4 months

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can u do ABO au with slashers going through their heat and asking the reader coughbeggingcough for help?

cw: this was longer than expected, dom!top!gn!alpha!reader, sub!bottom!omega!michael myers, knotting, heats, praise kink, condom use, michael is implied to be a virgin, male omegas have pussies and dicks, all alphas have dicks. word count: 1.3 k

michael had experienced many things in his life, but one thing he never experienced, were his heats. because he was in the mental institution, michael was given suppressants by the doctors all his life up until he escaped and started his rampage.

but five days after his escape, he began feeling hot and sweaty, his vision was blurry, and his pussy was leaking slick like crazy. michael didn’t know what was happening to him, and for the first time in his life, he was confused and scared. it soon got worse to the point where michael couldn’t even walk and hid himself in an alley. that’s when he meet you. you were an alpha that was throwing out the trash behind your house, when you caught the scent of an omega in heat.

you were obviously worried for the poor soul, so you followed the scent, and there you found the infamous bogeyman. michael gripped onto his knife with a shaky hold and tried to attack you, but his movements were slow and you quickly slapped the knife out of his hands. michael let out a threatening growl and pounced on top of you, the air was pushed out of your lungs as michael’s hands were put beside your head and made you stay down. “h-hey, i just want to help you. an omega shouldn’t be out in public during their heat, you’re in pain, aren’t you?” you asked, trying to keep a calm voice and pumping out comforting pheromones.

michael let out deep pants of air, you could tell he was holding onto his last bit of strength by the way his body was shaking. michael unexpectedly whines when he unknowingly rubs his clothed hard-on against your thigh. you gently put your hand on his plastic cheek, you ask, “has this ever happened to you?” michael shakes his head no, you know enough about this guy to know that he was dangerous, but you couldn’t just leave him here to suffer through his first heat.

“let me help you, please,” you pleaded, michael thought long and hard, and eventually agreed. you led him inside your house, up to your bedroom, and quickly got to business. before you could even remove your boxers, michael pushed you onto your bed, dry humping you like a feral beast. you pulled michael in for a kiss against his covered lips as you zipped him out of his jumpsuit so that he was just in his underwear. as michael fought with your mouth for dominance, you flip the both of you over so that michael’s back was on the mattress.

you reach for your nightstand and take out lube and a condom pack from the drawer. michael’s breath hitches as he watches you pull your cock out and slide the condom on. you smile down at the bogeyman and went to kiss so dangerously close to his abdomen up to his large chest. “you have such a beautiful body, michael. your abs, arms, and thighs are strong,” you pull michael’s underwear down, and place your hands between his thick thighs to pull them apart and reveal his wet entrance. “oh what i would give to have my head between these things, and have you ride my face. perhaps we could do it next time, if you want to,” michael’s dick twitched in interest as more slick spilled from his cunt. he liked praise, noted.

you didn’t want to tease him too much because once again, he was in heat, and you were slightly scared of what he would do if you kept him waiting any longer. you wanted to make his first heat as pleasurable as possible.

you slipped in a finger, his walls took you in with ease. michael moaned when you began to work your finger inside him, he’d never had something that big inside him before. you were putting his comfort above your own pleasure, precum gathered at the tip of michael’s cock. he let out another loud whine when you put another finger inside him, he moved to cover his mouth. there was so much slick that you didn’t think he even needed lube, michael thrusted against your fingers, desperately looking for the relief he needed. deciding he was loose enough, you pulled your fingers out of his pussy (he glared at you through his mask for doing so), grabbed the lube, and poured it over your slick covered hand to bathe your cock in.

you held out your hand for michael, “let me know if you feel uncomfortable, okay?” michael was taken aback by your gentleness, but nodded and took your hand in his. you wrapped his legs around your waist, lined your cock up to his dripping pussy, and slowly pushed inside, thankfully he was wet and loose enough so you bottom out with ease. michael squeezed your hand as he breathed heavily, his walls were so warm, you resisted the urge to just plow him then and there.

it wasn’t until he was grinding his hips that he silently told you to fuck him. you set a deep but slow pace, michael let out guttural groans when the fat heat of your cock hit his sweet spot. slaps of skin against skin filled your ears, along with you and michael’s mixed moans made your hips speed up. michael gasped when you grabbed his legs and pushed them against his chest, the new angle made you thrust deeper into him. “you feel- oh, so good for me, mikey. gonna make me cum soon,” michael moans breathlessly in your ear as his hands grip desperately on your back.

the bed slammed against your wall in sync with your pace, the smell of heat and sex filled the room, and if there was anyone in your house, they would be able to hear you two fucking like animals. michael could feel his walls tighten around you before slick and cum dirty your thighs and chest. he holds you as tight as he can, overstimulation overcoming him as you relentlessly use him to chase your end. your knot starts to expand, making it harder to thrust until you finally bottom out and fill the condom with hot cum.

michael and yourself were cover in a thin layer of sweat as you both let your orgasms wash over you. it took awhile until your knot lessened enough to pull out, “you were so good for me michael, relax while i get us some water and napkins,” michael watched as you threw away the used condom and left the room, he felt so much better than earlier, albeit sweaty, but still good. you came back with two glasses of water and a tissue box and sat beside michael. you made a move to take off his mask, but he took your wrist in a death grin and let out a warning grown.

“sorry baby, but you need to drink something,” michael was silent, you sighed and put the glass on top of the nightstand beside the bed. “after i’m done cleaning you up, i’m going to sleep, you can drink then. i don’t want you having a sore throat.” you rip a few tissue out of the box and begins cleaning michael and yourself. michael was watching you like a hawk the entire time, your face, your neck that didn’t have a mating mark (yet), and your cock. once you’re done, you wrap your bedsheets around michael and yourself. you smile at michael before kissing his masked cheek and resting your head on a pillow facing him, “goodnight, michael.” he watches as you drift off to sleep and you begin drooling on the pillow case. you looked so peaceful when you sleep.

the morning came, and michael was was not beside you. you were fully expecting him to kill you in your sleep, but thankfully he didn’t. you thought that would be the last and only time you’ll ever see the bogeyman. oh how wrong you were. you weren’t upset though, in fact, you were gleeful.

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dolliestfairy · 11 months

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Кᥱᥱ⍴ Y᥆ᥙ Ѕᥲ𝖿ᥱ ୨୧ ٬ ࣪ . ، ₊ ˖ ་ ݁٬ ࣪ ، ִ ۫

Jason Voorhees and Michael Myers fanfic with chubby!fem!reader ଘ(੭´ ꒫`)੭

ཐིiཋྀ A/N : sorry for the break, i was run out of ideas and even if i had some ideas, idk which fandom should i choose so i really really conflicted about it.

ཐིiཋྀ Warning : Bullet Mark, Extreme Violence (not towards reader). reader almost getting gangr4ped (not by the slasher) kidnapping (i think..) stalking in jason part. Murdering, Massacre And yeah thats it. Reader skin color is not Announced

ʚဗီူɞ Jason Voorhees

• first time he see you at the crystal lake with your so called companion. he see you wandering alone confused and scared only to find out later that your friend has left you alone in the crystal lake.

• he felt emphaty however. so he goes after your friend group and killed them.

• after he slaughter your friends he goes back to you. he sees you from direction where you can see him to make sure you didnt run.

• he approach very very slowly but since he's a quite heavy and big guy, his foot step is also heavy which makes you look around at the direction he's in.

• when you see him you.. stunned.. with a freezing expression only to be melt when you see jason covered his face with his big arms so you couldnt see his face and you wouldnt run away from him.

• you see blood covering him and his weapon he's carrying, so you assumed that this guy probably killed your friend which is true.

• but you also see a bullet mark on his neck and you insist him to go to the camp so you can heal him and he accept.

• after you healed his bullet mark on his neck, he ask you to hand a small book and a pen that was placed behind you. you take the book and the pen and you see he's writing something for you.

• he handed you a shattered paper with a writing that says "stay"

• you look at him after seeing the paper only to find a big dangerous male trying to not look at you. he must say that he's very thankful because his mask covered his pinkish cheeks.

• its only getting redder when he sees you nood at him. he swear on his mother thumb he would never leave you in danger like your shitty companion do.

ʚဗီူɞ Michael Myers

• meeting you when he was still in the asylum. you were one of the nurse that were brave enough to take care of him.

• he would rather die than admitting this but he really love how soft you are. you look really fragile.

• he love but he also hate how you were so gentle with him. he love being showered with your gentle and affectionate touch but he also hate to thinks that the reason you were doing this because you thought he was weak.

• one day in the asylum, 3 men workers have a bad bad intention to you. you were trapped in a small room, it was almost midnight and its time for you to go home, but this bastard was trapped you inside and one of them start unlocking the door to get inside with you.

• you were trying to run, but those 3 men were strong as well more than you could handle. your mind start shattering when they were trying to strip you to get naked.

• you know whats about to happen. you were gonna get used by these motherfucker.

• behind them, you see Michael seeing you. you at that time was crying and michael only stood there. when one of them want to close the door and lock it, michaels hand quickly grab the mans neck and literally crush it with such an ease.

• one has down, two more left. you at that time were half naked and you see how burtal and horrifying Michael Myers can be. Michael pushed one of the mans head and threw it against the wall repeatedly until the mans face bloody. the one left trying to run but Michael quickly grabbed the mans leg and quickly throw him outside the window. you were at the 3nd floor you assumed that poor yet bastardize man was nowhere alive.

• michael look down at you and grab your waist and take you to somewhere else. somewhere far from the asylum.

• you woke up in a small room in some place you didnt know, you see Michael literally sitting beside you with his stoic expression. you were kind of terrifying seeing his expression but after you remembered what happened last night you were kind of relief.

• you grab his harsh hand softly and you look at him in the eyes and says "Thank you Michael." you see his darken eyes kind of lightened up a bit with some spark and you see his little tiny smile coming.

• you smiled at him and hug him soflty, when you two were hugging you felt your back was crushed and when you look back you see Michael big hands grabbing back at your back and you see his tensed muscles relaxing at your hugged.

• Michael, Silently promising to you that he will never let anything bad like that happen to you again. if someone dared enough to do it with you, Michael with no doubt will Disembowel them Alive. end of the story.

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crypticbunnygirl · 1 year

Text

Teasing the shape

Michael Myers x female!brat!reader

Prompts: “You’re gonna regret that” “I’m screwed” “I’m not done with you, you brought this upon yourself”

This is my first time writing smut, I am open to constructive criticism! just please be nice! :)

Warnings: rough sex, light bondage, light dom and sub, bites, bruising, darcyphilla (michael loves to see you cry from overstim), slight breeding kink if you squint real hard, overstimulation, size kink, degradation, dumbifaction (like a few words), micheal gets soft with aftercare, Michael does talk a little but only a few lines

Words: 1.3k

Somehow, some way, you had convinced Micheal to let you ride him. He never liked being underneath you, unless he initiated it. But now, you were straddling him, his mask on the floor. His rough hands on your hips. “C’mon mikey, lemme tie your hands...it’ll be great.” You state. He gives you a sharp glare. “Come on! Please!! I’ll make you and buy you lots of sweet things!” You say, trying to get him to cave in on letting you tie his hands to the bedpost. “Fine, don’t make me regret it.” He mutters, his voice raw and deep. Your heart flutters at his voice. You grab the red rope, and make a knot. A few moments later you sit back, biting your lip at how Micheal looks. You feel his eyes practically burning your skin. “I’m going!” You voice, you knew what that look meant, he’s getting impatient. Micheal had helped you with getting ready to take him. You let out a sigh; no matter how many times you and Michael have had sex, it still takes you a while to get used to him, with you riding him, you can take your time. It helped that he was already erect, you let out a shaky breath and slowly sank onto his cock. You look into his eyes, you know you need to hurry up. He didn't have to say anything for you to understand. You let out another deep breath as you continued to slowly go down on his cock, you could see he was growing impatient when he slammed his hips up, his cock filling you up. You gasped at the sudden fullness. You start to move slowly, bringing your hips back up and down, your hands supporting you. You moved slowly to be a tease. How could you not pass this opportunity to tease him?? You weren’t going to pass this up. So, you start moving, slowly knowing damn well Micheal will make you regret this, but you don’t care. Your right hand goes down to your clit and starts slowly rubbing in a circular motion. “Michael~” You utter. You know he’s about to snap, the way he’s tugging at the rope. Did you purposefully tie them poorly? Maybe. You continue this slow agonizing pace, for him anyway, you were enjoying this. You continue your motions, feeling pressure build in your abdomen. Micheal was glaring at you. He hated this. He wants you to have your hands tied, with him pounding into you like an animal, and you knew this. This was torture for him, watching you please yourself, with your small hands? Please he could do so much better. He knew what you liked, hell loved in bed. How to get you to cry for him. You close your eyes, basking in the pleasure, the slow sensual pleasure. Suddenly you hear a snap, you open your eyes, the bed post is broken, Micheal has gotten out of the rope. Fuck. You're screwed. You feel his hands on your hips and he slams you down onto his dick. He switches so he’s on top, you're beneath him, where you should be. He grabs your wrists, takes the rope that he broke out of and ties your hands together. “You're going to regret teasing me.” He whispers in your ear. You shudder with excitement. This is exactly what you wanted, and Micheal knew this. He starts thrusting into you, his hands holding your hips in place to make sure you can’t move away as he slams into you. One of his hands goes to your clit, going in rough circular motions. “Michael! Don’t stop!” You mutter, like he planned to. He continues his rough pace until you're squeezing him. “I’m c-cumming!” You stutter, coating his cock in your juices. He continues to fuck you, not slowing. He drops his head to the crook of your neck, he starts biting and sucking, making you whimper. God how he loved those sounds. He leaves hickies and bite marks galore, he moves to your chest, sucking on your nipples, knowing it was a more sensitive part of your body. You whine, feeling that pressure build up. “Mikey, I-I’m g-gonna cum a-again.” You whimper. He nods, you know this is what you get for teasing. He doesn't slow down, only continues the onslaught on your body. You feel the pressure build, build and then, he gets deep enough, hitting the right spot, sending you over the edge.

“M-Michael!” You whimper, clenching around him, making him groan. Soon his thrusts get sloppy and he dips into your ear, your name falling from his lips, as he cums. You're panting and you see a sly smirk on his face. Before you get a word out he resumes his harsh thrusts. Michael leans down and whispers, “This is what you get, you're going to cum until I’m satisfied.” This is the most vocal he's ever been, you whine as he continues to slam into you. He smirks as you whimper and whine.

“Whine for me, slut.” He mutters in your ear, his voice making you clench. He starts a rough pace on your clit making you gasp. You can't find the words to let him know your cumming again.

“Mi-Micha-” You can’t even form a sentence, he chuckles.

“Look at you, my baby is all dumb hm? Did I fuck you dumb?” He asks. All you can do is nod and whimper, his voice making you wetter.

“Of course I did.” He whispers, his arm wraps around your waist to pull you closer to him. You smirk dumbly as he lifts you up by your waists and thrusts into you, hitting that bundle of nerves making you squeal. He continues to hit it. Positioning himself to always hit that bundle of nerves, over and over. You can feel that same feeling building in your gut. Before you could get any words out your coating his cock and he adores watching you come undone underneath him. The way you whimper and your squirming. God, he loved it. He kept thrusting and soon became sloppy, you knew he was getting close. With three thrusts he comes in you, his grip on your hips tightening and holding you in place. Once he finished he pulled out and looked down at you. To him you look like a piece of art, covered in hickies, bite marks, bruises, and his cum leaking out of you. You watch him walk away. You're too exhausted to ask, your brain fuzzy. A few minutes later he comes back with a rag and starts carefully cleaning you. It felt nice, the warm water on your sensitive skin, it was relaxing. Once he finishes cleaning you up, he holds you, a little awkwardly. He wasn’t used to giving affection. But you were very content with his aftercare. He’s a work in progress. Soon you feel sleep take you, falling asleep in Michaels arms.

#slasher #slashers #michael myers #micheal myers #halloween #slasher fandom #micheal myers x reader #rz michael myers #michael myers fucker #michael myers x reader #michael audrey myers could hit it for free #michael myers imagine #michael myers smut #michael myers x y/n #michael myers x female reader #michael myers x brat reader #michael myers imagines #michael myers x reader smut #michael myers x you

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tom-foolery-incorporated · 30 days

Note

Stumbled upon your blog, and Lord!! I was wanting to request slashers reactions to s/o squirting(I've recently become oddly interested in how each of them would react)

If you're uncomfortable with the concept please ignore!! Have a great day!

Oh I love some squirting!

NSFW MDNI 18+, gender neutral AFAB reader, racially ambiguous, Jason Voorhees, Michael Myers (any), Brahms Heelshire, Bo Sinclair, reader gets eaten out, overstimulation, lingerie, mild bdsm

Jason Voorhees

This man had already made you cum twice before he had his dick in you

The first time, he was fingering you on his lap and the second time he had you ride his face

Now he was deep inside your spent pussy, taking whatever he wanted

One hand stroking your cheek as you moan and whine his name while the other toyed with you clit

The whole time, Jason has maintained eye contact with you

His piercing gaze as he fucked into you like it would be the last time he had you beneath him made you absolutely lose yourself

You arched your back up from the mattress screaming his name

A jet of liquid splashed against his pelvis the entire time you came

Dripping down between your bodies and onto the sheets below

While Jason had stopped fucking his throbbing cock into you, he did rub your clit through the entirety of your squirting orgasm

The only time his eyes left your face was to watch the spray of fluid erupt from your pussy

He didn't know you could do that

And now that he did, he needed to have you do it again

Bo Sinclair

It was his goal the first time he got you under him

Fucks you senseless then has you ride him until you're crying from overstimulation

The sound of your sopping cunt plapping against his pelvis is music to his ears

He'll put you in every position known to man

Could probably add a couple chapter to the Kama Sutra with how he handles you

You always come out of his room wobbly and needing to sit on a donut pillow

Bo loves using toys on you just to see your reaction

Your pretty wrists bound to his headboard, vibrator on your clit, as he slowly pumps his cock into you

He's in no rush and just wants to watch his pretty little thing come undone for him

Bo places the vibrator onto the very tip of your clit making you scream out his name and sob from the intense pleasure

His thrusting picked up a bit excited to see how you reacted to the toy

Then you felt wetter

A lovely stream of squirt erupted from your pussy and onto his pelvis

Bo bit his lip holding back a low groan

Now he had you right where he wanted you

Michael Myers

You are pretty much his fleshlight

His main goal is to use your pretty little cunt as his own personal cum dump

If you get off on that then that's a happy accident on his part

Michael will pretty much take you anywhere at anytime

Your pussy is pretty much free real estate and Michael is ready to move in

Fat cock bullying your pussy open while he pushes you into a wall

He had already came in you once today, his previous load now getting fucked further into you

You were practically boneless and only being held up by Michael's hands on your hips and cock buried deep inside you

After he had made you cum this morning, you ended up playing with yourself a little bit using the cum he left in you

Your mind felt fuzzy and pink like you were sat in a cloud of pure bliss

You couldn't even be bothered with how your own squirt sprayed out of you and onto the floor in a puddle

But Michael noticed

And he knew that once he was finished in you he was going to make you lick your mess up off the floor

Brahms Heelshire

Brahms had you dressed up in some lacy white lingerie

Something you'd expect to hidden underneath a wedding dress as a surprise a bride had put on for the groom on the night of their wedding

He had pulled your garter off with his teeth and practically shoved his face into your pussy after

For a while he just laid between your legs mouthing at your clothed cunt and inhaling your scent

When Brahms wanted more, he practically ripped the panties off of you and dove into your cunt like a man starved

Sloppy and loud was the best way to describe it

But he made you cum anyway

Juices trailing down his chin being lapped up by his tongue

Again he needed just another taste

Then another

And another

His strong hands kept you legs pinned to the bed so you couldn't kick him away from your drooling pussy

Your orgasm felt like a kick to your stomach as juices erupted from your body

Brahms happily lapped up everything he could

Now he had to get you to do that again

#brahms heelshire #jason voorhees #michael myers #bo sinclair #slasher #slasher x reader #slasher smut #slasher x reader smut #brahms heelshire smut #jason voorhees smut #michael myers smut #bo sinclair smut

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apocalypse-shuffle · 6 months

Text

MICHAEL MYERS | THE SHAPE (any iteration | any canon timeline idc)

────────────────────

Sex w/ Michael Myers (Michael Myers x Fem!Reader)

Headcanons

NSFW, 18+, minors dni, shoddy communication (because Michael), mild dubious consent

Pic Source: Rob Zombie’s Halloween, Halloween II, & Halloween Kills(?)

Michael ain’t easy when it comes to letting you know he’s horny.

Let’s say you’re at your computer desk working when he’s suddenly behind you.

He’s all up on you in seconds, lifting you up, taking your place in the chair, and putting you on his lap.

His rough hands find your breasts shortly after. Michael doesn’t speak as he touches you but with him so close you can hear the small groans that crawl up his throat.

You arch your back against him as he tweaks your nipples. Rubbing the dark nubs between his thumb and forefinger incessantly.

Moaning, you throw your head back on his shoulder to pant out: “What has gotten into you?”

He doesn’t react much to the question, only getting just that much louder groaning in your ear as he starts to rut up against your ass.

No sooner is he rubbing his length against your core through the layers of fabric between y’all and you’re left moaning and wondering when he’ll get impatient (because now you’re turned on too and you’re getting impatient) when he hoists you over his shoulder to reposition you.

Michael isn’t a cock warming type of man but once he gets you on the nearest flat surface he’s stuffing his semi erect dick into you with zero hesitation.

He squeezes your thigh and grunts at you to get a move on until you start milking him to full hardness.

After that it’s all Michael for the next while until he gets off, you cuming when he’s trying to nut is not the goal but if you happen to then that’s nice (initially at least).

Mainly Michael deals with himself first before coming back to finish you off after. He will breed you - every time - if you do not dissuade him from the action.

Regardless of where Michael’s cum, once he’s taken care of himself is when whether or not you came while he was getting off will come into play. If you didn’t then you’ll be well taken care of by relentless, nicely overwhelming precision. If you did, on the other hand, then prepare to be thoroughly punished because Michael is going to give you special attention whether you still want it now or not.

This man will (and revels in it tbh) overstimulate you to tears. You wanted to come so bad well then here you go, he doesn’t care if you're jerking around and sobbing he’s more than strong enough to restrain you.

Any form of aftercare depends on the version of Michael. RZ!Michael is definitely going to try, and with some direction from you he’ll be amazing at it. He wants that softer, less frenzied connection with you after the fact, and aftercare soothes and reassures you as well as him. OG!Michael and Old Man Myers (or Peepaw, as the ladies call him) on the other hand I firmly believe won’t care for aftercare all that much; at most you’ll get some base level rearranging done so that you're on a more comfortable surface and whatever supplies you might need will be easy to find and that’s it.

In general; if you're not in the mood (or are alternatively never in the mood) Michael is more or less easily dissuaded. You kind of have to start the pattern of sex for it to be something he goes looking for from you in the first place. If he can’t let out his sexual frustrations with you though then he has plenty of other fleshy and easily stab-able ways to let that frustration out.

Michael also regularly goes dormant - usually of his own accord - and has periods where he doesn’t kill so it’s pretty safe to assume that the same goes for his sex drive. When he’s in the mood to fuck is harder to track, and more spontaneous, than when he’s about to gear up to unleash his bloodthirst on the world though.

On another note let’s say you’re the one in the mood but Michael’s pretty firmly not. Likely it’s because he’s obsessing over a target for whatever reason. During times like these though, when his stalking and slashing are in high demand, you’ll barely even catch sight of him until he’s satisfied regardless.

NOTES: Hope you enjoyed!

I won’t say this was my best work, but I can only fuck around with a post for so long and I think a year was more than long enough for this to be ruminating in my drafts.

btw: if you’d like to leave a comment I’d very much appreciate it! this is a sideblog tho so I won’t respond.

#michael myers #the shape #black!reader #black y/n #michael myers x black!reader #an apocalypse-shuffle halloween special #slasher x black!reader #the shape of haddonfield #michael myers imagine #john carpenter’s halloween #michael myers x reader #slashers x black!reader #slasher x reader #michael myers smut #slasher smut #slasher imagines #slasher fucker #michael myers headcanons #18+

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illusioninfnty · 6 months

Text

day 27 ; cuckolding

↠ michael myers x reader

fandom: halloween word count: 1.2k warnings: nsfw 18+, dubcon, forced exhibitionism, slight fingering, no prep, unprotected sex, creampie, reader gets the ick, murder (not of reader)

kinktober m.list || read on ao3

When you told your boyfriend that you thought that Michael Myers had been stalking you for the past week or so, he laughed in your face and called you crazy.

But you knew you weren’t crazy, despite what he told you. You saw the man everywhere you went—his shape so clearly defined that you knew you couldn’t be dreaming him up.

He followed you to your college classes, to the supermarket, and even when you went back to your hometown for a weekend to see if you could get away. But no, wherever you went, Michael followed.

When you tried to describe in detail to your boyfriend all of this, telling him the specific places that you saw Michael at, and how no one else seemed to notice him.

He brushed you off, and told you that you needed to up your meds.

Now, you lay in bed with him. You haven’t been able to sleep the past few days because of Michael following you. Your boyfriend doesn’t have a care in the world, his arm strewn sloppily across your body as he snores away. Every sound that comes out of his mouth pisses you off more than the next.

Until you turn to face away from him, and towards your door. But you still can’t close your eyes, because of what you can make out with the glimpses of moonlight that peeks in through your cheap curtains.

The shape of Michael Myers was in your door frame.

He looks as he does every time you see him—imposing, looming, and all-consuming. He holds his knife clenched in a large fist. Oddly enough, he holds rope in his other hand. But there’s something else that’s different about him this time.

Michael stands in front of you, and there’s no hiding the erection in his coveralls. It stretches the fabric, and there’s no hiding how hard he is, even if he wanted to.

You know exactly why he’s here now. And you allow it all to happen. You stare ahead at Michael, and don’t make a sound. Not even in fear. Rather, you had a morbid curiosity (despite the inkling in the back of your mind) of what Michael was going to do.

He doesn’t approach you, though. He makes his way over to the other side of the bed, where your boyfriend sleeps, clueless to the danger that awaits him.

Michael grips your boyfriend by the back of his neck, pulls him out from under the covers, and throws his body across the room as if he weighed absolutely nothing. You hunker down under the comforter as your boyfriend wakes up, and starts screaming when he sees the Shape standing in front of him.

He calls out for help. He calls your name, and you can hear the tears in his voice. But you don’t do anything. You lay there and stare, peeking through your own cocoon. Michael ties him up, feet first and then his arms are behind his back, and soon he’s completely bound in a way where he’s unable to move and escape to alert someone.

Michael strides over to you, and you make no move to avoid him. He pulls the covers off of you. Your nightshirt is torn off your body, your breasts exposed to the cool air of the room, nipples pebbling from the sensation. Next come your sleep shorts and underwear, which Michael tears off with ease.

You lay there completely bare in front of Michael Myers, and your boyfriend is cursing through his sobs as he lay in the corner of the bedroom.

Michael sticks his fingers inside of you. Not for your pleasure though, but rather a sort of exploration for him. His fingers wiggle inside of you, curling in certain spots that have you jolting against his hand.

He removes his clothes, his hard cock on full display. It pulses as he approaches you, and without any sort of warning he takes his fingers out and replaces it with his cock.

Choked gasps leave your mouth through the sudden intrusion. You weren’t nearly anywhere close to ready for him, and the meaty size of Michael’s length doesn’t give you any sort of ease when adjusting.

He ruts in and out of you with vigor, his balls slapping against your pussy as he grabs onto your hips and thrusts.

You slap your hands against your mouth to try and conceal the moans of pain, and you’re positive that the liquid you feel along your walls as Michael’s cock moves in and out of you is blood.

Your back involuntarily arches as Michael’s hold lifts you off the bed, your head lolling backwards as his thrusts continue through your cries of protest.

As you turn your head to look at your boyfriend, you can’t help the wave of disgust that washes over you seeing him in the position he’s in. He looks pathetic and weak, and it just reminds you of all the times he made fun of you when you were freaking out over being followed, or whenever he chooses his video games over comforting you whenever you suffer from a panic attack.

It has you realizing that no, you don’t really feel sorry for him for where he’s at. Maybe if he actually listened to you for once he wouldn’t have ended up tied up on the floor, having to watch his girlfriend get fucked by the guy who’s most likely going to kill him once he’s done.

Once the guilt you felt over allowing yourself to be fucked by Michael in front of your boyfriend is lifted off your shoulders, it’s like all the pleasure you refused to feel kicks in at once.

Michael’s cock fills you up completely, more than your boyfriend’s ever did. Through the stinging sensation inside you, you focus on the way Michael pounds into you with so much force you can barely think straight. It has you close to your orgasm, something your boyfriend has never been able to accomplish in all the years you’ve been together.

“Fuck you!” Your boyfriend cries out from his corner. His yells are silenced by your load moans as Michael fucks himself into you. “What the fuck,” comes his response to it in a whisper.

“Michael! I’m cumming! Oh God, I’m cumming!”

Strangled cries come from your boyfriend as he attempts to free himself from the rope. “You fucking sicko!”

You weren’t sure if he was referring to you or Michael.

With one last shuddering groan, you cum around Michael’s cock, clenching your walls tightly around him. You spasm with the pleasure that takes over your body.

Michael’s orgasm comes only seconds after yours. He makes no sound as the warmth of his release fills you up inside, the excess liquids spilling onto your sheets below.

He drops you on the bed, and you let out an oof sound as you plop onto the plush mattress. You lift your head up in enough time to see Michael pick up his knife again, approach your sniveling boyfriend and stab him, over and over again, until his cries are silenced and his body is completely still.

And then just like all the other times before, Michael completely vanishes. The only trace of him is your boyfriend’s mutilated body draining of blood, leaking slowly just like the cum that spills out of you.

#kinktober #kinktober 2023 #michael myers x reader #michael myers smut #slasher x reader #slasher smut #halloween x reader #halloween smut

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spidergutz-writes · 7 months

Note

Time to get slutty, bestie..

I’m a whore for Michael getting mad when Reader gets embarrassed about hiding their sounds while fucking. I love it when he gets extra rough bc of it. 😩

Anything to do this this and breeding kink (without the kids LMAO) PLEASE AND THANK YOU 🙏

YOUR FR BLESSING ME WITH IDEAS 😩😩😩

bestie it’s cool we’re all whores for him !

(I try to keep this as gn as possible if I fuck up im sorry ;v;)

I’m doing HC’S for this cause it’s late and ya gal is eepy

WARNINGS: smut. Obviously. Being dicked down by a hot man (Michael Myers) NO BETA /PROOFREAD WE DIE LIKE REAL MEN

Michael is extremely attentive, so you’d be a fool to think he’d let your silence last.

only he’s allowed to be silent, but you? God no he just

your silence is a challenge to him, and he’s going to break you for it

it only takes a moment before he’s snaking his hand up to your throat, and squeezing. Not enough to really hurt or kill, but merely just a warning 👀

man’s already pounding into you, sloppy sounds of skin on skin filling the room, but it’s gets all the more vulgar when he grabs your legs with his remaining free hand, and pushes them up onto his shoulders, and absolutely FOLDING you into a mating press.

his own grunts get a little louder, and if you really focus (you can’t) you’d be able to hear him groan and moan a little.

this intense position, his fast pace, and the hand squeezing your throat finally has you making noise, and I could bet you could just feel his sly smirk

Michael was unknowingly a man of pride, and finally hearing you moan and cry out his name? Has him so hard it fuckin hurts

the sudden rush of just everything has micheal going erratic, his breathing heavier, his pace inhumane, and the hand that was once on your throat, is now pushing your legs back a little more, the mating press he had you in was just the cherry on the top.

when your own orgasm finally washes over you, it takes a good couple (twenty) more thrusts for him to cum

ISTG THAT MAN HAS SUCH GOOD STAMINA HUFUFUFUFUF. ~~~~~~~ heavy breathing and panting fills the room, and as Michael finally pulls out, his cum slowly dribbles out of you, but he wastes no time in fingering it straight back into you, his eyes a dark steel grey, bordering on black. he hums, and leans back to admire his work on you. The bruises already forming on your neck from his intense hold has your thighs clenching. ~~~~~~

HEY WOAH IM SORRY I KNOW YOU REQUESTED THIS LAST NIGHT I FELL ASLEEP ;0; YA GAL WAS EEPY ✌️✌️✌️

anyways, as always, give me constructive criticism!!! I can’t grow as a writer without knowing my mistakes!!

(Please give me more requests tho I’ll frfrfr kiss you, I’ll give you a smooch.)

#The shape #michael myers x reader #peepaw myers #og michael myers #michael myers #michael myers smut #micheal myers #slasher x reader #s #halloween

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spookychick78 · 6 months

Text

Wanna Be Yours

Peepaw Myers X GN!Reader

Word Count: 6,558

⚠️Warnings: NSFW (18+, MDNI), choking, dubious consent, rough sex Michael himself is a warning, proofread but I'm human⚠️

Figured it was time I take on the old man. There's not nearly enough fanfiction out there for Peepaw. Is it over 6k? Yes. Is it self indulgent? Probably. Is it smut? Eventually.(there's some serious plot leading up) Needlessly romantic? Absolutely.

You stretched your arms out while simultaneously releasing yet another yawn. This was night two of staying up far later than planned, but insomnia had an unrelenting hold on you. Finally, it seemed it was losing its battle. Your eyes were heavy, your body the same as your yawns followed one after the other. A glass of water was all you needed, then you'd call it a night. You enjoyed the soft thud your feet made on the wooden floors, the usual pitter pattering muffled by a pair of fluffy socks you'd dawned. However, you were regretting your decision in not throwing on that pair of sweatpants before you came downstairs, it was rigidly cold, even indoors that night. Your oversized hoodie did little to protect you from the chill in the air.

You opened a cabinet, grabbed the first cup your hand landed on and brought it over to the filter in the sink. A sigh escaped you as you watched the little stream take it's sweet time filling it. Your foot had just begun to tap impatiently, it was so close to being filled, when a loud thump on the side door startled you. You dropped the cup, thankful that it landed in the sink, saving you from any mess. From where you stood, you couldn't see any movement out the little window on the door. You briefly regretted your decision not to turn on any lights as you stared, frozen in place waiting for any indication that someone was there. After a few moment's silence, the tightness in your chest dissipated and you let out the breath you'd been holding. Probably just a cat, you thought to yourself before you turned, foregoing your drink to retreat to the comfort of your room sooner rather than later. You hadn't even made it halfway up the stairs when yet another thud stopped you, followed by the sound of glass shattering. Your breath hitched and without thinking, you turned to scurry back downstairs, completely defenseless. In the shadows, you could just barely make out a figure. The only thing that was clearly visible, due to the faint gleam of moonlight, was his masked face. It was white, or it had been at some point and the eyes were two pitch black voids that seemed to be focused on the floor underneath his boots. As your eyes adjusted, you could make out a few more details, some that explained why he simply just stood there; he was injured. His hand, which was missing a couple of fingers and poorly bandaged, rested on his abdomen, clutching a wound that was still bleeding. His other hand seemed to be in just as bad a state, he'd broke the glass window with it to open the door from inside, rendering it bloodied as well. As he shakily lifted his head, those dark voids refocused their attention on you. You drew an uneasy breath, fearful of what he might do now that he'd discovered your presence. It felt like an eternity under his black gaze with only the sound of his uneven and ragged breath to break the dense silence that had settled in your kitchen, but finally something gave. He collapsed, you however stayed put for a moment more, unsure of what exactly you should do. The fact that he had a mask on wasn't entirely strange, it was Halloween after all, but he did break into your house. Perhaps he needed help? You could only hope that was his intention and he hadn't moved a muscle since he'd fallen, so with immense hesitation, you approached him. 'Intimidating' described him perfectly, even as he lay unconscious and face first on the ground. He wasn't a small man, not in the slightest. He must have been well over six feet tall from what you surmised, which meant he wouldn't be easy to move, but if you wanted to inspect his wounds you'd have to find a way. You tentatively placed a hand on his back, because if you were being honest, you weren't quite sure if he was even alive. He was, the soft whistle of breath through that mask of his and the subtle way his back rose and fell which each weak one he took confirmed that much.

"Fuck," you whispered as you contemplated how exactly you were going to turn him over, "you're not gonna make this easy on me, are you?"

You put all your strength into it and, after dropping him a few times, you managed to flip him over, "Sorry," you muttered after he'd landed on his back harder than expected.

You resisted the urge to study the face hidden behind the mask and focused your attention on his injuries, which were worse than you'd previously thought. Blood had turned the blue cloth he wore blacker than the eyes of his mask. You carefully pulled some of the fabric back to discover it was bullets than had torn through him. You winced at the sight, it wasn't something you'd be able to help much with, but you intended to do your best after at least calling for an ambulance. With that thought in mind, you stood to retrieve the first aid kit you never thought you'd have a use for and your cellphone. You wondered if he'd disappear while you had your back turned, half hoping he was simply a figment of your tired imagination, but when you returned he was still there and real as ever. You quickly dialed the emergency line, deciding to leave out the part that painted him as an intruder. You were still intent on not assuming the worst and he needed help, or so you thought. Once you hung up, you knelt down beside him again and carefully unzipped the coveralls he wore. You cursed yourself for blushing at the sight of his bare chest. He was older, the small patch of gray hair made that clear, but he didn't lack for definition despite his age. He was unreasonably built, something you fought to ignore but ultimately failed, hence the heat that had risen to your face. You gently pressed the rag to his wound and heard his breath falter at the sudden pressure, but he remained still as you cleaned him. You couldn't quite tell if he was awake, it didn't seem to matter how intently you studied those black holes, you couldn't see anything behind them to determine consciousness. But he was conscious and beyond disturbed at the predicament he found himself in, so much so that he hadn't a clue of what to do other than observe.

After you set the rag down, that mask had your full attention. The more you studied it, the more intrigued you became. It looked familiar, but you couldn't quite figure out why. You searched silently for a reason to justify what you were about to do as your hand moved closer to its edge. It would be easier for him to breathe without it on, you thought to yourself as your fingers grazed the rubber, but the moment you started to pull on it, his hand flew up to grab yours. He sat up, but doubled over as soon as he did and his grip on your wrist tightened.

"No- I'm sorry. Don't move, okay? You're hurt," you said, stumbling over your words as he flinched away from your other hand that went to his shoulder to steady him, "I just thought it'd be easier to breathe without it."

Michael's consciousness was an effort to keep, but he was aware enough to have heard what you said and it left him more than confused. The house had been so dark, he assumed it was empty, a safe place for him to rest while he waited for his strength to return. He didn't expect to find you standing there and when he did he had every intention to slaughter you, but the bullets Laurie had put in him had stripped him of that opportunity. His head whipped around for his knife while you watched, assuming he was just confused and unaware of where exactly he'd passed out.

"An ambulance should be here soon. I got you cleaned up, but you're gonna need more help than I can offer," you said, forcing his attention back to you, "you should rest though, until they get here."

Without hesitation, he shot up, entirely ignoring your suggestion and the throbbing pain in his abdomen, "Whoa, hey, what are you doing?"

Your words had little effect on him, which you soon learned as you watched him stride towards the door he'd entered from. You quickly followed behind, baffling him further. Usually, it was him who did the chasing.

"You can wait here, you don't have to-"

Naive, he thought to himself. Naive and completely out of your depth is what he made of you, but perhaps that kindness you'd shown a monster like himself was exactly what had saved your life, for now at least. He had no choice but to leave you, he'd had more than enough run ins with the authorities for one Halloween night and he knew they'd arrive any minute. He found his knife by the door and bent down to retrieve it, which was what stopped any further words from leaving your mouth. Your abrupt silence gave him pause and he turned his head slightly to find the horror of realization painted on your face. Your eyes were focused on the blade in his hand that had been decorated in red. The moonlight allowed its gleam to inform you that it was no prop, it was as real as your own blood that had run cold in your veins. It was your breath that was shaky now.

"Who are you?" You whispered.

He left you without an answer and that was weeks ago. Wondering was exactly what Michael wanted you to do and unbeknownst to you, you played along so nicely. He hadn't gone far, in fact he'd returned several times to catch you immersing yourself in his story. The night he met you, you never slept. You sat in bed with a blanked wrapped tightly around you as you listened to the details of what the man who'd broken into your home had done, of what he was. The answers you received from headlines only raised more confusion within yourself, because your name wasn't on his long list of victims. He spared you and that fact had you torn. Part of you wanted to let it go, be grateful that the shadow of death had so kindly passed over you, but there was another part that desperately wanted to know why. That part of you brought on more questions, but ones about yourself, more specifically, your own self preservation, because you wanted him to return. Sure, maybe it was simply time that was to blame, you'd called the authorities and he was a killer. He had to flee to avoid capture, but they still hadn't gotten him, he was still loose and he hadn't come back to finish you off. From what you'd learned, no one crossed Michael Myers' path and lived to tell the tale, you were alone in that. You were the first he'd left completely unscathed and unattended to, or so you thought. But Michael hadn't left you alone, not at all. He kept quite a close eye on you and with questions of his own, because in leaving you alive to wonder, he'd confused himself. The more he studied you, the worse it got. At first, it was a game, the same one he always played. The kill was always more satisfying when he had a bit of history on the subject at hand, but learning about you had become problematic. He never waited this long to strike, but you had made him hesitate. Somehow, you'd gotten to him and he couldn't seem to rid himself of the memory of you touching him. Perhaps it was because no one had before, not so gently. They'd certainly never apologized for hurting him as you had when you tended to his wounds. You cared about his well-being, it mattered to you that night. Enough so that you went out of your way to save him. He would have survived without your assistance, but it was the thought that counted, you thought about him in a way that no one ever had before. Now, you searched for him, unabashedly. He knew you weren't just gazing out of your window for the sake of it, you wanted to find him. He wondered if you a had a sixth sense, because he was always there, hidden in the shadows your eyes wandered to after the street lights turned on. You'd even begun to leave it open once you'd gone to bed, something that really piqued his curiosity. What would you do if he found his way in, what would you do if he gave you what you wanted and showed himself? Would you run or would he find himself in a situation in which he was the one who was out of his depth? Michael had gone his entire adult life without worrying about such things and he hated that finally, he'd been caught in such a trap. He wanted to hate you for it, but when you appeared in your window again and locked eyes with him in the darkness without even knowing it, he couldn't. He wanted to find one, just one single flaw that he could latch onto, but he couldn't and it ate at him. You were perfect, infuriatingly so. The way you moved haunted him in the most unexpected of ways and you were so young, so full of life that he should have wanted to drain, but death was so far removed from what he wanted to give you. His brow furrowed underneath his tattered mask as he contemplated it, because in truth, he hadn't a clue what exactly it was he wanted from you, he just knew it was you that he wanted and it was driving him to madness, to discomfort he'd never felt in all his life.

You disappeared from his view, retreating into shadows yourself once you decided he wasn't there. That was when he began to move unconsciously towards the door he'd entered through before. His heart pounded within his chest as he drew closer, unsure of what he would do once he was face to face with you again, but he needed to be, there was no question about that any longer. More than that, he needed to know what you would do, if you were different from the rest and if you could give him rest from the turmoil you'd caused within his mind, body and if he had one, soul. The house was dark, just as it had been the first time he arrived, only now, the door was unlocked. An invitation, he thought to himself with further intrigue. You did want him there, you must have, because who in their right mind left their house open for entry with a killer on the loose? He ought to teach you a lesson, but then again, no one was more of a threat than he was and he didn't intend to leave you unattended. If you wanted to leave your doors unlocked, so be it, but he would be your only visitor if he got his way and really, didn't he always?

His hand glided along the kitchen counter as he steadily made his way to the stairs, pausing at the bottom to study the stream of light that bathed the blackened hallway above in an eerie orange glow. His head tilted when it went out, leaving you entrapped in darkness. The sixth sense he suspected you had only became more prominent, he breathed easier without light to touch him and you had turned it off. Further invitation, of course, so he took the first step, then another. The faint creak of the wooden boards didn't seem to alert you to his presence, the light stayed absent and he appeared in your doorway to find you settled in bed. Sleep hadn't found you yet, but he had and you stirred when you felt the unease brought about by an unknown gaze lingering on your body. At first, the shadows all but consumed him, then his figure became clearly visible. Just an outline, tall and broad, but you recognized him.

Slowly, you propped yourself up with eyes that were wide open. You wanted this, but now he was here and you hadn't a clue of what to do, or what he would do. Words escaped you, but you didn't fear his silence this time nor the deafening hum that sat heavily between the two of you. It was energy, an unspoken desire to be near to each other was what it was, you knew that now without a doubt in your mind. He'd come back, just as you hoped he would, but for what purpose and why was it you had wanted him to?

Your legs slid off the side of the bed until your bare toes met the cold wooden floor below. He'd yet to move, so you tested the limits of what he would allow. His eyes, unseen, studied those carefully made movements closely. There was no distance to dull your actions anymore and he soaked each one in as he watched you stand, fascinated. He didn't have to hear it to know your heart was racing within your much smaller frame, you were prey approaching a predator, but it wasn't fear he found in your curious eyes, it was awe. As if he was just as unreal to you as you were him. His head lowered with his gaze, because now you truly were face to face. Your neck in turn craned up as you listened to that familiar whistle of breath through his mask.

"Michael," you whispered up at him.

He rushed forward so abruptly you didn't even have time to scream. He backed you against the wall, but didn't touch you, not right away. He simply stood there, shoulders heaving, head down in front of you. His breath was uneven and his fists were clenched tightly at his sides as if it was an arduous struggle to withhold himself.

But from what? You thought as you stood there silently searching for the answer you'd clearly die to retrieve. He didn't have his knife, at least not within his grasp or reach. His hands were his only weapons and he hadn't even used those on you, not in the way you had expected. Your hands remained at your side, unmoving and his gaze dipped to one. His breath evened as he studied it contemplatively, his shoulders stilled and he seemed puzzled, or so you assumed. Hesitantly, he reached for one. His fingers grazed your skin, slowly grappling for more purchase. Finally, he hooked one of them with yours and brought it to the other. He brought it up and you watched, confused as he traced the lines on your palm that were visible to him in the moonlight. The cool glow even allowed you to catch a glimpse of those eyes you'd searched for the last time he was in your home. One was an eerie, milky white, left without sight from one of the many wounds he'd gathered throughout the years. The other was the lightest of blue, icy in color, but there was warmth hidden somewhere inside that fought through as he allowed himself to fall prey to your touch once more. It was his choice this time, he was very aware as he pressed his palm to yours. Delicate and dangerous were the only two words that came to Michael's mind, because though you couldn't overpower him physically, he felt weakened in ways more damning than bodily wounds.

"Why are you here?"

Your whispered words did little to distract him from the dilemma he held in his hands. If anything, he should have been asking you that question. Why were you stillhere, allowing him to dive further into obsession, destroying everything he knew to be true about himself with just the tips of your fingers? It was cruel and unjust that someone like yourself, someone so small and seemingly insignificant held such power over him. It was infuriating, maddening and he wondered if you knew as his eyes met yours only to melt further. You didn't look away, no, instead you matched his intensity with brows that were furrowed in curiosity. That uncomfortable pounding in his chest returned and what he could only assume was rage forced his breath to quicken again, but then you intertwined your fingers with his, which made everything stop all at once.

"Are you going to kill me?"

The answer to that question was what frightened him most. Without warning, he ripped his hand from yours along with his gaze and turned to disappear down the hallway. It was an unforgivable mistake on his part to return to you, that much was certain, because no, he wasn't going to kill you. In fact, the encounter hadn't given him a single answer as to what he wanted with you, it only worsened his confusion and brought about doubt of himself. Perhaps he did have a weakness, a living, breathing one. He needed to escape it, kill whatever it was inside of him that betrayed him so wickedly. Your footsteps behind him made him grit his teeth as he strode through the door he'd left open to leave you to the night, but your hand found his wrist before he could vanish.

"Wait," you demanded.

The sudden and unwelcome contact forced his instinct back to the surface and before you could blink, you were forced back into your kitchen with a hand around your neck. The wind was knocked out of you when your back hit the counter and you squeezed your eyes shut, afraid that perhaps you'd finally crossed that thin line you'd been treading on since the moment you met him, but his grip didn't tighten. He watched you brace yourself and in turn, crumbled at the sight. Prey, he thought to himself, you were supposed to look just as you were with his hand around your throat. You were supposed to be frightened, you were supposed to beg for your life and yet, when your trembling hands met his wrist, it was the last thing he wanted you to do. It wasn't that he didn't want to hear you beg, he did, but he wasn't quite sure what for as he had you pinned with his own body pressed against you. He'd seen this dance before, but it wasn't one he ever bothered to learn. Human touch such as this for Michael only ended death, he'd never been forced to consider any other use for his hands. He thought back to his own worries earlier that night and realized he was indeed out of his depth, just as he was afraid he would be. He had you exactly where he wanted you, but what now? His head canted to the side as he watched your chest rise and fall in quick succession. Your eyes were still glued shut, anticipating death, but death had a different idea. The safety of darkness still surrounded the two of you and with your eyes refusing to open, Michael lifted his mask up. You felt his fingers brush your jaw and inch their way into your hair to hold the back of you head, then you felt something else. A kiss was what he gave you, gentle and inexperienced, but in his softness you received the answer you'd searched so diligently for. He lingered there for a moment, stunned by his own actions and more so when you returned them. You kept your hands on his wrist and kept them still, aware that this was his limit, this was all he could handle for the time being, but you guided him in your wordless response. Your lips pressed firmer against him, you moved slowly, but deepened it with each press. His hand began to tangle in your locks, clenching as his mind screamed for release, for violence. It was an effort to fight off those instincts, but he did so valiantly just for a few more moments of this, of softness, of you. You carefully lifted your hand to place it over his, which still rested at the back of your head, fingers knitted tightly in your hair. He relented, just slightly, but when you let out that soft sigh, it was too much. It was too intimate and just like that, his lips left you as did his hand. When you opened your eyes you were alone, as if his touch had simply been a dream all along. The only evidence of reality was the door, which he'd left ajar to leave you with nothing but the sound of wind to fill his absence.

Questions were what he'd left the first time, but now, it was frustration that consumed you in his wake. You'd gotten an answer, in a sense. He didn't want to kill you, he wanted you and you kept it safely hidden within the walls of your pericardium that he wasn't alone in his desire. He left you wanting, wishing and waiting for a killer to return and finish what he'd started, for him to claim you as his own. The mere thought had you unraveling, because what on earth was wrong with you? Why had you allowed such a thing to happen in the first place? Why did you kiss him? More importantly, why did you love every second of it? His lack of experience hadn't dulled the sensations he forced upon you, if anything it enhanced them. Haddonfield's reaper had chosen you and spared you the scythe for a kiss, one you couldn't seem to stop from popping into your mind at the most inconvenient times. It haunted you and it stripped you of each and every one of the morals you thought you'd had, based on one simple fact; you wanted more. However, this time months passed and you were forced to find ways to pluck him from your mind, which meant when a coworker called you up to ask if you'd like to go to dinner, you said yes. Of course, putting an end to the fantasy of Michael wasn't quite as simple as it sounded. Dinner was spent with your head on a swivel, half paranoid he'd find you and be less than pleased, half hoping he would and save you from the drab conversation you'd allowed yourself to endure for the sake of distraction. You were right to think he'd be watching and safe to say 'less than pleased' was an understatement. Jealousy was something Michael wasn't sure he'd ever felt before. In fact, he was convinced he really was starting to hate you for bringing so many emotions he didn't understand to the surface. Torture was clearly what you intended to put him through, but that was something he was well versed in and as he watched you kiss your date goodnight, he made a decision. You were indeed going to learn your lesson and if it ended in death, well, that would be your price for causing him such agony, because he didn't expect to behave gently after watching someone else's hands, someone else's lips touch what was his.

You kept your smile in place as you politely waved goodbye, but once the taillights disappeared you allowed it to fall with a groan and quickly wiped your mouth. Your date's enthusiasm for you was beyond unreciprocated, but you'd play the part well, perhaps too well. Hopefully he wouldn't call, you thought to yourself as you strolled up the walkway to your front door. You let out a sigh when you realized you'd forgotten to leave the porch light on and you had about a million keys to sift through in total darkness, of course. To make an already annoying night worse, you tripped. You managed to catch yourself, but the keys hadn't been so lucky. You bent down to retrieve them, cursing under your breath as you stood back up. You fumbled with them a moment more before finally pushing the key into the lock, but that was about as far as you got. You hadn't even heard footsteps to alert you to his presence, but suddenly, you found yourself pushed face first against the door and before you could let out a scream, a hand covered your mouth. It was familiar, the missing fingers were a dead give away. His other went to yours and forced you to turn the key. Why he'd even bothered unlocking it was a mystery, because he promptly turned you around and threw you over his shoulder before he broke the door open with brute force. Struggling was no use, he had a vice grip on your hips as he strode through the threshold with purposeful steps only to drop you on the counter.

"What the hell is your deal with me?" You spat out before you could stop yourself.

But before you even had time to regret your choice in tone, his hand was around your neck. That gentle grip he once had was lost and replaced with a menacing one that took your breath away. Your hands wrapped around his wrist with rage of your own at this cat and mouse game he was playing with you.

"M-Michael," you stuttered out with a pained expression, "whatever you're gonna do, just do it already."

You worried you'd come to regret that statement when he pushed you back on the cool marble with such force it made your head spin. His hand momentarily abandoned it's hold on you and you pushed yourself up just slightly, just enough to meet his eyes. The blue you'd once seen in his left one had turned dark, his pupil was overblown to erase any color, but it wasn't death you saw in that eerie gleam. Far from it. A different instinct had taken over and he knew exactly what he wanted to do to you. He quickly reached behind you and brandished a knife from the block on your counter. His movement's were hurried, frantic even as he tugged you forward by your hips so his waist rested between your legs. Then, he raised the knife up and you braced yourself. You must have mistaken that darkness in his eyes, it must have been bloodlust, you thought to yourself, but when he plunged it down it wasn't your flesh that tore. He'd taken it to your jeans, cutting them just enough so that when he tossed the knife behind you and grabbed each side of the fabric with his hands, he was able to rip them clean off of you. He didn't need the blade to remove the rest and now you were almost entirely exposed to him, save the top you silently resented him for destroying next. It looked expensive, Michael thought with a smirk behind his mask, but it looked much better torn to pieces. He was almost as unkind to his own clothes, he tugged the zipper of his coveralls down with such force the metal came loose and fell to the floor, leaving him free of any further confinement. You didn't even have time to glance down before he tossed on of your legs over his shoulder, pushed the other one to the side and plunged into you so deeply you feared you'd be ripped in two, just like your jeans. He allowed you no time to adjust, or catch your breath before he set an inhuman pace, one arm wrapped tightly around the leg over his shoulder and the other hand gripping your thigh hard enough to draw blood with his fingernails. He was silent, frighteningly so, while you failed to do the same. In fact, it seemed he was hell bent on making you scream, because once he found one particular spot that made your eyes roll back and your mouth hang open, he never left it. He managed to hit it each and every time he pushed into you and he relished in those gasps that quickly turned to wanton cries. Pain mingled with pleasure in a dizzying manner and you tried desperately to reach for him, to find anything to steady yourself on, but it was useless. He wanted to see you struggle and you were doing it perfectly, but if you wanted stability, he'd allow some. He stopped abruptly, bottoming out and drawing a pitiful whine from your open mouth so he could hook his fingers over your bottom teeth. With his thumb under your chin and his index and middle lodged in your mouth, he pulled you up by your jaw, the pain dulled by the overwhelming pleasure he'd pummeled your nearly limp body with. He brought you close, your half lidded eyes struggled to stay open as he lifted the bottom half of his mask up with his other hand and pressed his lips to your ear.

"Mine," he growled, low and harshly.

His breath fell hot over your bare neck, causing the ache between your legs to peak, begging for him to continue, but instead of giving you what you wanted right away, he pulled back and left you empty to readjust his mask. You whined, reaching for him before he grabbed your shoulders and turned you. He bent you over the counter and forced himself back inside of you while his hand snaked around your throat. He lifted you back up so that your back was pressed hard against his chest and the mouth of his mask was back at your ear.

"Say it," he breathed as he thrusted forward, slow but forceful.

You'd barely registered that he'd spoken the first time and now, with him buried so deeply inside of you, your cognizance was long gone. Each time he moved he seemed to go deeper, fully aware of the torture he was delivering in forcing you to hang on the edge of your orgasm. He could feel your body tensing around him, he knew you were dangerously close. Your head fell back on his shoulder as you struggled to form the response he desired.

"Yours," you whispered, but that didn't seem to satisfy him.

He thrusted harder, driving your body upwards. When your hand went to steady yourself on the counter, he grabbed it and held it tightly behind your back while the other squeezed your neck until you felt light as air. He grit his teeth, fighting off his own orgasm for the sake of punishing you further.

"Say it," he repeated with malice.

You were right there, so close to release that your mouth simply couldn't stay shut, but it wasn't breath you were so desperate for. You held it, brows furrowed in a mix of pain and pleasure so brutal you weren't entirely sure you'd survive another thrust. You felt his teeth at your neck, biting down as he let out a groan. It appeared he was in torment too, desperate in his own right to find release inside of you. His voice had driven you to madness, but those breathy moans he couldn't seem to hold in any longer were what sent you over the edge and that only made his struggle to maintain control harder. Your body pulsed so deliciously around him. You were tight enough to begin with, but now? It was too much and his head dipped lower in the crook of your neck to nip at your shoulder as his hips began to tremble from the exerted effort to keep his pace controlled. Not yet, not until he heard you say it.

"Michael," you gasped with your eyes wide open, though between the lack of oxygen and the intensity of pleasure, all you saw was white, "I'm yours, all yours. I'm yours."

Your whispered promises never stopped, they fell from your lips like little prayers and they had him spiraling. His ragged breath and the way each of his hands gripped you tighter and tighter should have broken you, but you clung to what little air he allowed for more of him. He'd long abandoned that slow, meticulous pace to chase his own high with a vengeance. His hand left your wrist and he wrapped his arm around you, pulling you flush against him when he found release. He bent forward, panting underneath his mask as he pressed you against the marble countertop.

"Yours," he heard you continue whispering and he loosened his grip on your neck.

He stayed like that for awhile, still buried deep within you and baffled by the entire ordeal, but you were so warm. No part of him wanted to separate from you or leave those little whispers behind. You felt his thumb absentmindedly brushing circles over your jaw and you supposed that must have been what brought you back to total consciousness, but you stayed still, afraid that if you moved he'd leave. His sudden softness was unexpected given the brutality he'd just displayed, but you found yourself melting into it. Between the exhaustion that had settled into your bones and the delirium that filled your head, those rough, calloused hands of his were exactly what you needed to bring you back down to earth with grace. He too was warm and you couldn't help but press your cheek into his palm, which caused his brow to furrow behind his mask. When his head withdrew from the crook of your neck, you let out a weak moan in protest, but he continued his departure from you in silence.

"Michael," he heard you mutter softly as he struggled through his own haze to gather himself.

He paused to observe your wrecked state. You still hadn't moved a muscle and he wasn't entirely sure you could even if you wanted to. He'd annihilated you, had you for his own and he should leave now. Right?

"Please don't leave me," you whispered.

You didn't expect him to oblige your simple request, you knew he'd already far surpassed his limits. You were killing him, he thought to himself and in such a strange way. It was instinct you'd stolen along with something else he supposed he did have after all, because as he watched you try and fail to push yourself up, it skipped a beat. He was aware he could blame it on age or his usual pent up fury, but he knew that would be a lie. It was you. You were both a curse and a cure to the quietus that possessed him, a plague upon the heart he once thought had lost it's rhythm to violence. It was mercy you'd infected him with when you touched him, when you healed him and mercy was something so foreign to Michael, but for you, he supposed he could try to give you his own version. You hadn't the energy to even feel surprise when he took you into his arms, but you had just enough left to smile as you rested your cheek against his chest. Perhaps he'd be gone when you woke or maybe he'd stay. Either way, you were Michael's. Or was it the other way around?

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