#michael myers fanfic
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Slashers! First meeting their S/O
Slashers! x gn!reader
Includes Michael Myers, Jason Voorhees, Thomas Hewitt, Vincent Sinclair
Requested? Yes
Warnings: beefy murder boyfriends, fluffy shit, pre-relationship stuff, love at first sight, mentions of murder/gore/malicious intentions, violence
Michael Myers
It was Halloween night, dark eyes through holes in a white, cast of a mask staring through the second story window of an old, decrepit house
A young boy skipping by as in a blue, capped superhero, an older couple strolling on the opposite street, arm in arm minding their own in the breezy night
Eyes cast downward as the sharp ring of a doorbell shot through the old bones of the house, glint of a butchers knife tight in the grasp of the man know silently making his way through the upper hall
“Are we even supposed to be going in here?”
“Who cares, it’s tradition to check out the Myers mansion, relax”
“I don’t know, this feels wrong..”
Listening to what seemed to be two young adult, the shrill voice of one of them almost instantly striking the silent man with a headache
Michael watched from the shadows as the pair came into view, the louder of the two wearing her hair in tight pigtails, a cheerleader outfit splattered with what was obviously fake blood, a bad attempt at a murder victim
Ready to lumber from the darkness and strike down on the intruders, the man was struck to the spot he stood as you came into view, wearing another poorly, and clearly last minute, thrown on pirate costume
You were what he imagined when the perfect kill was dreamt, your face burned into his as your pictured screams of fear and pain died as did your fighting spirit, the knife once again tightened in his grip, knuckles turning a pale white, veins pulsing beneath taut skin
He wanted, no, needed to kill you
Even the thought alone send a bold chill of excitement through the otherwise lifeless body of his
“You know what would be so funny-“
The girl in pigtails spoke as she flipped around the corner, the voice shrinking in her throat quickly morphing in a scream of terror as she bumped into the large, awaiting body of the infamous Michael Myers
Although her scream was also short lived as a rough hand was immediately around her throat, lifting her from her feet and slamming her back into the adjacent wall breath knocked from her body at the impact
His other hand rose, moonlight catching the long, silver blade as it was plunged deep into her stomach, twisting, turning as her throat gave up on its scream, another shriek caused the killers head to twist like an owl
There you stood, frozen in place with hands partly covering your mouth, eyes wide, not shaking, not running, just watching as the man before you brutalized your friend
But as your eyes caught each others in the dimly lit hallway, Michaels grasp on the now corpse released, body hitting the floor with a dull thud he didnt bother to pull the knife from its placed nestled between dead flesh, not even glancing down at it
Your hands slowly fell from your face, still not shaking, but clearly stressed with sweat as you wiped your hands on the fabric covering your thighs
“I’m, sorry for breaking in”
Your voice was soft, careful but not disingenuous, Michael didn’t know how to react, unable to look away or even move
His head tilted to the left, mask bunching at the bottom, he turned on his heel and made his exit through the rickety wooden door leading to the backyard, leaving the body, knife, and you alone in the corridor
As his walk through the brisk night air flooded under the neck of his mask, the killer could feel his normally emotionless face scrunch with confusion
If hearing you scream in fear wasn’t what he thought he wanted from you, then what did he want from you?
He would have to investigate this sudden curiosity closely
Jason Voorhees
Jason was tirelessly indulging the day by sitting on the end of his cabins patio, watching the slow turn of various wild animals go by
There weren’t any campers to keep him busy, nor screams and boisterous laughter of teens trying to get their rocks off on the property, just the hum of June bugs and trees swaying beneath the gentle breeze of warm weather
That was until a shrill yelp drilled into Jason’s eardrums, bothered by the distraction from his day of calm, the man stood with shoulders squared, grabbing the awaiting machete perched against one of the patios wooden posts
Marching through the dense woods, his boots crushed leaves as he made he way to the noise from minutes earlier, hoping whoever it was was far gone
“Oh my god”
Of course they weren’t though, of course whoever this was decided to stupidly wander onto private property, clearly posted in writing on multiple trees and wire fences
Although Jason hesitated when he heard something he’d never had the pleasure of catching
“You poor thing, here I am breaking the law because of you”
Peeking from behind the thick trunk of a large oak, Jason was surprised to see a stranger kneeling in the dirt, fingers and palms cut up with minor wounds as they attempted to unwind a helpless rabbit that seemed to have gotten itself rolled in loose barbed wire
Not minding to worry about yourself, you winced as another barb caught your finger, slicing the thin flesh there as the rabbit was freed, trotting away without a care in the world
“Okay, now which way did I come in from?”
You wondered aloud, turning on your heel to go back the direction you think you came from, hoping in get back on the hiking trail you’d left behind
Jason merely watched with confusion, no malice or really any thought behind his eyes other than the urge to, protect you, from what he wasn’t sure
But he knew for certain, you weren’t someone he’d be able to forget
Thomas Hewitt
Let’s get one thing straight, Thomas doesn’t enjoy killing, him and his family was forced into it by Hoyt and his insatiable urge to feed and “care” for everyone
Most victims were easy to kill, treating him like a monster, screaming in his face curses and insults as they went out
Others he had a harder time with, the ones that just cry, plead with him for their life, promise they won’t tell the police if he lets them go
That being said, he’s never failed to kill, not once since he’s begun
That is until one summer day, when a knock at the door caught Luda Mae by surprise, wiping her wet hands on a dish towel and headed to the front door
Eyes narrowed, the older woman opened the door to reveal a young adult, you, standing there with a shy smile gracing your features, you held a pair of car keys in one hand, the other free to reach up and rub nervously at the back of your neck
“I’m sorry to bother you and, whoever else is home, but my car broke down a mile out, and I’m unable to reach anyone on my cell”
Luda Maes confusion turned to soft pity, a reserved grin taking over her lips as she moved to the left, a hand beckoning you in
“Well dear, there’s a phone in the kitchen, if you’d like I can call the towns auto shop while you wait in the living room”
Although still shaken from being practically dropped in the middle of nowhere Texas, you made your way graciously inside, thanking the woman with kind praise as you did so
Taking a seat on one of the two sofas available, your ankles crossed as you stared down at one of the keychains dangling from your car keys
You could hear the woman in the kitchen shuffling around, although you weren’t sure if you could hear anyone speaking to anyone on the phone
Curious, you slowly stood, palms sweaty as you now took a few steps from the living room, now able to hear Luda Mae speaking on the low to someone, then the sound of a corded phone clicking into its place on the wall
Heart slowing as you realized you were just being paranoid, you quickly turned on your heel to find your way back to the couch, although your trip was cut short by your feet crossing over one another, about to fall on your face when a two large hands steadied your shoulder
Gazing up, your breath caught in your throat at the absolute behemoth of a man now standing before you, a leather mask covering the bottom half of his face, thick brows furrowing as you simply continued to stare with wonder up at him
“Thank you”
Was all you could manage, voice catching as you realized your body was practically pressed up against his
“There you are dear, oh look I see you’ve met my youngest boy Tommy”
Luda Mae spoke as she entered the room, knowing look on her face as she coyly added fuel to the current fire
Pulling yourself up right and out of Thomas’ grasp, your hot face was focused on the older woman in hopes the man wouldn’t notice your sudden fluster
“Unfortunately our only truck is out with my other son, so I was thinking my boy here could be so kind as to walk you to the auto shop, you’ll be safe with him, promise”
You didn’t notice the way Thomas’ eyes followed you, too focused on thinking about being alone with a man as attractive as the one quietly standing beside you
“You’re not worried are you?”
Luda seemed to test you, but it went right over your head as you shook your head no
“He seems very reliable”
You smiled up at Thomas, unable to catch the skip in his chest as you did so
Luda Mae could only grin at the sight, ready to call up Hoyt and tell him to leave this stranger alone, as she could see a future blooming before her eyes
Vincent Sinclair
Vincent wasn’t one to leave his studio unless absolutely necessary, and even in those cases he didn’t, it wasn’t pleasant for the man
Until Bo brought home a guest, someone shaking and blindfolded as he manhandled the poor soul, although the stranger wasn’t screaming nor fighting, it was as if they’d completely given up, or knew it wouldn’t help
Vincent watched silently as his brother forced you to the ground, your knees surely hurting as they made contact with the hard, concrete floor
“Do you know what happens to people that wander where they don’t belong?”
Bo questioned menacingly, although he had a playful glint in his eye Vincent had never seen before
Silently creeping up behind his twin, the long haired man narrowed his eyes as he scanned what he could see in the dim, candle lit room of your face
The obvious old, dried tears that had found their way down your cheeks were still shining, creating lines over your soft skin
You looked to be carved of marble, painted with delicate strokes and framed with care, you were a work of art, and he hadn’t even seen your eyes yet
Placing a deft hand on Bo’s shoulder, the two exchanged looks, the shorter haired twin groaning in annoyance, although that look from before was still in his eye
Right as he was turning to take his leave, he leaned closer to Vincent, whispering to him as he passed
“I took one glance and knew you’d like them, guess I was right”
Then he was gone, foot steps disappearing as he left up the basement stairway
Vincent cautiously walked closer to you, noticing how you flinched back a bit when he made a move to pull your blindfold up, doing it slowly as to not startle you
Your watery eyes fell on his masked face, brows furrowing slightly as you glanced around the room
Vincent’s mouth soured at the idea that you were looking for Bo, of course you would be, what new comer in town wasn’t, until
“Is that man from before gone?”
You’d whispered, and if your sweet voice didn’t send Vincent into a flutter of strange emotions, your next words at the nod of, “yes”, Vincent gave you did
“Good, he scares me”
He merely nodded, unsure of how to act
“Is he going to come back?”
Vincent shrugged
Your shifted so you were sitting, wincing at the ache in your legs, eyes nervous but no longer afraid, you looked to the silent man before you
“Will you, stay here if he comes back?”
Vincent had never been so quick to nod a, “yes”
Sorry I’ve been gone for so long, but I’m back now! I’m working on what is currently in my requests but feel free to send in more!
^ me returning after being inactive for 6 months
#slasher#thomas hewitt#vincent sinclair#michael myers#slasher x reader#jason voorhees#slashers x reader insert#slashers x gn reader#slashers x reader#thomas hewitt fanfic#thomas hewitt x reader#jason voorhees x reader#Jason Voorhees fanfic#michael myers x reader#Michael Myers fanfic#vincent sinclair x reader#vincent sinclair fanfic
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A Night To Dismember
Pairing: Michael Myers x Fem!Reader
TW: Detailed Gore, Mentions of Murder, Mentions of Sexual Assault [Not by Michael], Slightly Possessive Michael, Protective Michael, Mature Audience only!
A/N: Requested by my bestie @prettywhenibleed! I really hope you enjoy this and it was an absolute pleasure to write this for you!! Love you, my favorite slasher whore! ❤️ This isn't my best work, I'm afraid, forgive me.
The Smith's Grove Sanitarium operated according to a schedule that was consistently set in motion without interruption. No authorized doctor employed by the sanitarium, however, would have foreseen this. Medical specialists thought they were completely familiar with Michael Myers' behavior. He was docile and kept to himself, despite being the most dangerous and threatening patient in the hospital.
But if you left him alone, there was a chance he would treat you in a similar fashion. The sole exception would be if touching his masks or otherwise bothered him. Even being among other patients was something he never enjoyed.
You were a new patient, recently exiled from society and your family because of your dreadful infatuation with fire and burning objects of interest. Your arrival left the building in absolute shock. On your first day, you were assigned to the recreation room. When you entered the room, your initial instinct was to walk over to the largest and most dangerous man within the sanatorium while grinning brightly. You only watched him work on a paper mache mask while standing over his hunched figure in the corner of the room, his hospital-approved supplies scattered along the table.
You thought the colors were stunning, which you happily expressed.
As a precaution against Michael harming you, guards stood by the recreation room's entrance wielding batons. Michael, on the other hand, did the exact opposite, giving you a cursory glance before grunting and slackly pointing for you to sit next to him.
It was like you and Michael had your own timetable inside the sanitarium, and this went on for the next few months without fail. As directed by his psychiatrist, Michael was permitted to create his masks in the recreation area in the mornings. You would follow not far behind and take your normal seat beside him at a table chosen at random, apart from the other patients. You would merely watch him create his masks and ramble about whatever was on your mind. Michael never responded to the conversation, but that didn't stop you from talking to him because he had his own style of doing so without words. You have grown accustomed to deciphering his thoughts from his basic grunts and gestures.
"Hey, Mikey." You said with a smile, taking a seat at your usual spot next to Michael's side, placing your tray of food onto the table.
Michael was in the middle of placing wet paper mache on the face mold for his mask, his fingers caked in colors of paint and residue from the paper mache. He paused for a moment, giving you a small grunt as acknowledgement before returning to his activity.
You smiled more, chuckling at his usual ways of communicating as you watched him craft. You've always been interested in his masks and the variety of patterns he would use for each one. Many of his masks had their own unique qualities. However, you knew to only look, not touch.
"I see you're adding bright colors this time; are those happy pills finally working?" You teased him, nudging him softly with your body.
Michael huffed through his nose, which you learned was his way of chuckling as he shook his head at you. In the past, It took a while, but you had a better understanding of Michael's gestures and emotions than the doctors.
Simply because you treated him like a person, not an experiment.
"Maybe next time then." You replied, turning towards your tray before glancing at his project once more. "You're really good at that, Mikey. You're really talented."
Once again, Michael paused his movements, his stained fingers holding the paper mache while his eyes remained downcast. His fingers twitched before he resumed, and you almost thought you said something wrong.
"I didn't mean-"
You were cut off as Michael grabbed another mold from the table, pushing it in your direction. Your eyes widened slightly as you pushed your tray out of the way as Michael's slow movements brought other materials in your direction.
Still in slight awe, you watched him turn towards you, and your eyes connected through his favorite orange mask. You couldn't help the way your heart skipped a beat at the way his eyes stared into your own, seemingly piercing into your own soul.
The doctors were wrong; his eyes weren't soulless, nor were they black, resembling a massive void of nothingness. They were blue, similar to a clear sky or the glimmering waves of the ocean.
He huffed before pointing a finger at the materials and then towards you. He wanted you to mold with him.
"Thank you, Mikey." You said softly, a bright smile on your face.
When your eyes met Michael's, he was unable to comprehend the sensation in his chest. Usually, when his sight fell on their figures, individuals would tremble or turn away. He wasn't concerned by their fear of the facility's most dangerous patient. He actually benefited from the fear he instilled in the hearts of many who came to the sanitarium.
Yet you didn't...and he liked that.
He liked that you weren't scared of him, speaking to him, or even touching him like you've been these past few months. The thought of you being scared of him made him feel...hollow.
When you started working on your own mask using the materials that were laid out on the table, Michael couldn't help but covertly place a palm on his chest to feel how his heart was refusing to settle down. He almost wanted to groan in annoyance, hating the way he liked being around you and having your attention.
He had been content with his solitude for a long time, He preferred being alone and had been for many years. However, the notion of you leaving him made the murderous itch inside him threaten to resurface.
He decided that he would keep you with him, protect you with everything he has, and extinguish anyone who threatened to ruin that. With darkened eyes, he returned to working on his mask.
On that day, you and Michael became closer.
You weren't born yesterday and you certainly weren't born stupid. Trouble was afoot in the institution and it was either happening under the doctors' noses or they simply didn't care enough to investigate. Over the past week, you would hear feminine screams down the hallway in the women's section of the institution during the late hours of the night. Last night, the screams could be heard two doors down from your room.
The screams and cries began when a new guard was appointed to the institution, supposedly replacing a well-known guard who was at the age of retirement. Due to your paranoia, you would sit on the edge of your bed, watching the door in the chance of someone entering your room when they weren't supposed to.
During the days, you would spend all you could with Michael, hoping that your association with him would make you seem off limits to mess with, or you hoped. Yet, Michael couldn't protect you when the sun went down and the men and women would return to their respective cells on opposite sides of the institution.
Tonight, you were following the same routine, sitting on the edge of your bed and watching the door. Your mind was in shambles, trying to come up with a plan in that chance, that horrid chance of the new guard coming for you. You hoped it wasn't what you were thinking, and for once, you prayed.
God never heard your prayers, and he certainly didn't now, especially when the jingling of keys were heading down the hallway, towards your room.
Michael couldn't sleep and when he couldn't sleep, he would simply pass the time by creating more masks or painting designs onto them. He was sitting at his desk, the surface covered in paper mache, markers, paint, and crayons. He was in the middle of adding a touch of red when he heard the distant sound of screaming.
His annoyance was disguised under his mask as he sighed and tightened his grip on the crayon in his hand to the point that it almost broke in half. He puffed again at the commotion and went on, indifferent to the screams. Perhaps a patient was making a scene during the nightly check-ins.
In order to block out the noises, Michael withdrew within the walls of his mind. It was a way that allowed Michael to escape freely from the confinement of his cell. He would always imagine a life outside the institution, with you. He would imagine the way he would protect you and provide for you. The thought used to sicken himn, but now he enjoyed it, the possibility. The sound of keys jingling, seemingly opening his cage, caused him to pause, though. With a loud crash, the cell door swung open, and shouting could now be heard outside of his room.
"Want some, freak?" The guard asked him in an mocking manner while Michael remained at his desk, his back to the guard. Michael immediately understood what the guard was pulling when he heard the feminine screams and intended to ignore it.
He continued to ignore his surroundings, ignoring the rage building within his chest. The sound of his bed creaking didn't deter him from continuing on with his activity. However, it all changed when the victim screamed one word.
"Michael!"
You.
Your trapped figure on his bed, with your nightgown pushed up so that only your thighs were visible, caught Michael's attention as his head whirled around. Your eyes were filled to the brim with tears, which streamed down your cheeks as you sobbed and struggled. His eyes quickly shifted to the guard hovering over you, and he developed tunnel vision instinctively.
A ferocious roar erupts from Michael's mouth and takes hold of the guard by the neck and collar of his shirt, throwing him off balance. In the midst, you shakily brought yourself to a sitting position, fixing the bottom of your nightgown to cover yourself. Your eyes watched as Michael picked up the guard, pinning him to the wall with eerie silence. The man in his grasp was yelling in pain and fear as Michael kept him pinned, his legs dangling in the air.
"L-Let go! Let go, you fucking punk!" The guard cried out.
Michael did not like that, not at all. Without a second thought, Michael hurled him into his desk, his art supplies falling to the ground in a cluster of clangs while the man groaned in pain. Like a predator stalking his prey, Michael's towering form stalked over to the smaller male, his eyes black as night and void of any life or mercy within. His large hand reached out to grab the same red colored pencil,
Michael's next action seemed to be a blur, he body launching onto the guard and stabbing him with the colored pencil, his resiliant strength making the pencil tear through flesh and muscle.
You watched in a sickening twist of fascination and awe, watching as Michael stabbed the guard over and over, leaving no body part untouched, the man;s screams filling the room. Your heart felt warm, knowing that Michael was willing enough to kill someone for you.
Lastly, Michael stabbed him until his chest, stomach, and face was shrouded in punctures, cuts, and wounds. With one last jab, the colored pencil stabbed into his neck, making the man gurgle on his own blood.
"Michael..." You whispered, your eyes taking in his bloodied form as he slowly turned to you, heaving himself up and moving towards you. It was as if he was a trained dog hoping he made his master proud. However, you were nothing of the sort. When he was close enough, you wrapped your arms around him, pressing yourself into his strong form. "Thank you..."
Michael gave a small huff, hesitantly touching your head with his bloody palm, staining your strands with the bodily fluid. Without another word, Michael pushed you away and grabbed your hand, pulling you off the bed and heading towards the door.
"Where we are going?" You asked in confusion, following behind the behemoth of a man down the stark white hallway.
In response, Michael tugged on your hand and you decided to go along with whatever he had in his mind. He saved you after all; even when he didn't have to, he did. It made you feel safe and protected in his presence.
"Alright, Alright." You muttered, your figures turning a corner and out of sight.
Red and white.
Those were the colors you would never forget. The way the walls were coated in blood and bodily fluids of various nurses and guards that laid along the floor in mangled messes.
Michael was strong, very strong. You remembered the way he smashed a guard's skull in with his fingers alone. You shuddered at the thought, crossing your arms and staring at the wall in front of you as you waited for Michael to finish off his last victim. A nurse arriving at the right place at the wrong time as Michael ambushed her, his hands around her throat as he strangled her.
Michael walked over to you, his muffled huffing practically hovering over your ear as he showed you shoes and coat. You stared at the items with a blank expression, wondering what he wanted you to do with these.
He huffed before shaking the items in his hands, motioning the items towards you. You sighed before taking the items with a small smile, throwing on the shoes and coat. You felt the warmth of the fabric soothe your cold figure.
"Thank you..." You muttered softly, looking up at him as he stared down at you.
He couldn't help but think you looked...cute.
He offered you his bloodied hand, which you instantly took and followed him to the exit. You both were finally going to be free and it was all thanks to him.
After a few hours of walking, your feet were beginning to ache and the adrenaline from earlier was wearing off.
After your fifth yawn, Michael stopped in his tracks, turning towards you in the middle of the field. He simply stared at you as you bent forward to rest your hands on your knees.
Michael, I need to rest for a moment. Please my-" Your words were cut off when Michael stormed over to you, grabbing you roughly around the hips, hoisting you into his arms. His arm went around your waist, while the other held your back in a bridal style fashion.
Your eyes widened from his sudden roughness, however you couldn't complain as you basked in his warmth, nuzzling your face in the bloodied fabric of his robe.
"Thank you." You said, closing your eyes and allowing yourself to finally relax for the first time tonight. You didn't notice the way Michael was staring at you in his arms, his darkened eyes filled with something unknown, dangerous...maybe even a little bit of caring.
Silently, he turned and resumed walking through the field, making sure to keep you safe as you began to doze in his arms.
Finally, you were his.
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Hi dear,
I was wondering if you could write for creepy neighbor! Michael x fem! reader, where he finds her on social media and downloads her pics to jerk off to then gradually 2 months later he storms into her house at night and fucks her into the mattress, love your blog <3
a/n: i absolutely can write that! thank you so much for the request and i hope you like it <3
pairing: creepy neighbour!michael x fem!reader
warnings: stalking, home intrusion, unprotected sex, rough sex
word count: 1005
You were beautiful, that much Michael knew. Even as you were staggering up the front steps to your door, your coordination severely lacking, he thought you were the most beautiful person he'd seen in a while.
Something about you always made his cock twitch in his pants, a sensation he had long since forgotten, it had been so long.
He'd first noticed you a few months ago, stumbling up the front steps to your new house, with a heavy box in your arms. No one ever came near his house, so he was surprised to find that you had been the one to finally move in next door.
He thought he had finally gone mad, that the long stretches of silence he usually endured had finally corrupted his mind, destroyed his sanity.
But with each month that passed, it became apparent to him that you were in fact real, and you were living right next door.
As he watched you jam your keys into the door, he quickly unbuttoned his coveralls, wrapping his hand around his aching cock.
But unfortunately, your brief presence outside your door wasn't enough to satisfy him, so he found himself reaching for the phone he'd stolen, quickly bringing up the images he'd taken from your social media.
He found that he rather enjoyed the idea of being able to watch somebody by simply tapping a few buttons on a screen. It certainly saved him the energy of having to sneak around outside all the time. Now, he could just watch you from inside the walls of his own home.
He pulled up an image of you in a bikini, the sun warming your skin and your chest glistening. He imagined his hands on you, rough fingers slipping beneath the straps, pulling the material over your head.
He imagined your breasts. He imagined his hands, wandering over your body, dipping inside your panties, driving his cock into you...
He wanted to hear you scream. He wanted to feel your skin beneath his hands, his cock buried deep inside your pussy.
Once he came to the realisation that a simple image wouldn't be enough to satisfy him, he put the phone down, tucking his cock back into his pants and walking towards the door.
You were home alone tonight, he knew that, which meant he was free to pay you a visit, satiate his need for you.
He silently left his house, walking straight up the steps to your house, and he opened the door with ease, noting that you rarely remembered to lock your doors at night.
Luckily for you, Michael had no intention to actually harm you tonight. He only intended to finally live out his fantasy, to feel your skin against his as he fucked you.
You were halfway up the stairs when you suddenly heard something behind you, strong hands roughly gripping your hair, forcing you forwards.
"What the fuck?!" You screamed, struggling in his hold as he continued to shove you forwards, barely even flinching as you thrashed around. "Let me go!"
It only took mere minutes to reach your bedroom, and he released his hold on your hair, forcefully throwing you into your mattress. And that was when you saw his face, the signature white halloween mask that belonged to none other than Michael Myers.
You thought he was dead. Everyone did. Yet here he was, standing over you as you laid there helpless.
"Michael?" You breathed out, staring up at him in shock. "Is that really you?"
He offered you no response, simply standing there motionless, his muffled breathing filling the silence.
"Michael─"
Before you were able to say anything else, he was closing in on you, his hands quickly finding the waistband of your shorts, effortlessly tugging the material from your body.
You probably should've struggled, attempted to fight him off in some way, but you could only lay there as he pushed your shirt up your body, revealing your tits to him.
You weren't sure what you were expecting, but it certainly wasn't this. You also hadn't expected to be so turned on by it.
You gasped when you felt his hands on your tits, the heat growing between your legs becoming uncomfortable.
"Michael," you whined. "Please, fuck me."
That was all the encouragement he needed to finally take his cock out, wasting no time in pushing into you, a muffled groan falling from his lips when he heard you cry out.
His hands were still roughly gripping your tits as he thrusted into you at a bruising pace, revelling in the sounds that he was pulling from your throat, and the near violent slapping of skin that filled the small bedroom.
You let out something short of a scream as he fucked you into the bed, the pressure building in your stomach becoming almost too much to bear.
"Oh, fuck! Shit!" You hissed, desperately clawing at the bed sheets.
Michael didn't let up, curling his hands around your waist as he continued to thrust into you relentlessly.
He loved the way you were squirming beneath him, trying to get away, to relieve yourself of the pressure.
And it wasn't long until you felt the sting of tears in your eyes, your body aching as he continued to pound into you.
"Michael," you breathed. "Oh God!"
The fire that had been building inside you finally exploded, a shock of pleasure coursing through you as you continued to cry out, your vision becoming blurred.
Michael continued to fuck you through your orgasm, your body becoming limp as he slapped up against you. And it only took one last pathetic moan from you for his hips to stutter, pleasure crashing over his own body now as he spilled into you, a muffled groan pushing past his lips.
Once he was finished, he pulled out of you, leaving you to watch as he tucked himself away, quickly doing up his coveralls before turning and walking out of your door.
Michael would definitely be doing this again.
[Main Masterlist]
#michael myers#michael myers oneshot#michael myers smut#michael myers x reader#michael myers x fem!reader#michael myers imagine#michael myers fanfic#michael myers fanfiction#slashers#slasher#slasher x reader#slasher smut#slasher fanfic#slasher fics#slasher fanfiction#halloween#halloween franchise
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Halloween Delight
Pairing: Michael Myers x Female Reader
Summary: Obsessed with Myers, you buy his house and wait for his return...
Warnings: NSFW! SMUT! Tw: blood, Tw: violence.
Notes: If you're not into slashers, then don't read and leave your opinions to yourself.
It was the morning of Halloween. You woke up in the dawn, darkness still cloaking the room. It was once his room and you could still feel his presence, haunting every board in the house. Stretching your body, you sat up and gasped when you saw a tall shadow in the corner. Once your vision adjusted to the dark, you could see the scarred, white mask illuminate the darkness.
"Michael?" you said breathlessly, your face brightening with a smile. "It's really you. I knew you would come home one day. I've read everything about you. Bought this house so I could be here when you returned home."
Michael tilted his head, his breathing heavy behind his mask as he watched you silently. Then, he charged towards you and wrapped his hand around your throat, his grip tightening around your windpipe as he lifted you up from the bed like you weighed nothing. You choked beneath his hand but to his surprise, you smiled as you looked down at him. He tilted his head to the other side and watched you with that emotionless expression on his mask. It was the first time someone didn’t scream in terror at him, and he didn’t know what to do with that. Eventually, he let you down and you gasped for air as you looked up at his tall figure. You touched your throat with a smirk, knowing there would be a bruise there for days.
"You can live here if you want. You don't have to kill me. I can be useful for you, make you dinner, clean your clothes, service you in bed...you can do anything you want to me, Michael," you said, biting your lip as you glanced up at him, your stomach fluttering nervously as you lifted your t-shirt over your head and drop it on the floor. Bending down, you took off your panties and stood there naked in front of the most powerful killer in the world, and had no idea whether he would kill you or not. And that was part of the excitement, of the thrill that turned you on so much.
Michael stood there in what felt like forever, silently watching your naked body and to your delight, you could see the bulge press against his boiler suit. Then, he was on you, as quickly as a snake snapping his head. He pushed you down onto your stomach on the bed and you cried out when he grabbed your hair and yanked your head back as he pulled down the zipper on his overalls. He slammed inside you in one, swift thrust, held your head with both his hands, his fingers finding their way into your mouth and holding the inside of your lips as leverage as he started to pound into your cunt. You tasted the iron of old, dry blood on his fingers and you were shamelessly wet at his onslaught. Saliva drooled down your chin as he fucked you into a mindless, blubbering mess. He fucked you hard and rough, claimed what was his. His pleasure was your pleasure. He was breathing heavily above you, grunted silently as he spilled his seed inside your tight cunt. The sensation of his semen filling your womb took you over the edge, and you came, screaming his name in ecstasy as your orgasm rocked through your body.
Michael slid his cock out of your pussy, pulled up the zipper on his boiler suit, and left your used body on the bed.
You smiled exhaustedly as you heard him walk down the stairs and the front door closed, knowing he would be back for another round when he was done with another killing spree.
Taglist: @noodlecupcakes @skvatnavle
#michael myers x reader#michael myers x you#michael myers smut#michael myers fanfic#michael myers#halloween#halloween fanfiction#slasher x reader#slasher smut#slashers x reader#slashers x you
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Idk if this is nsfw, but could you write a Corey fic where he gets possessive and jealous? Kind of like in the movie, but more extreme?
Jealous Corey Cunningham Would Be Like This:
A/N: Nope, not nsfw; I've been getting a lot of requests for jealous Corey, so here you are 🙃 I've sort of been thinking about a sfw sleeping with Corey hc too... if you're interested?
🔪• Ah, Corey Cunningham, the young man that questions himself in wonder every day about just how he managed to make you his? And, in turn, questions everyone around you just how they'll attempt to undo his hard work and break your beautiful bond together.
🔪• This boy will do whatever it takes, whatever it takes, to keep you by his side. It could go from a dark glare to the person and a tighter grip on your hand, to blood sprayed on his clothes and adrenaline rushing through his veins. It doesn't matter to Corey. Just as long as you stay his, and your loving attention stays trained on his, he's relaxed and happy.
🔪• However. This all means that Corey will end up being a ridiculously overprotective and jealous boyfriend, especially if you're innocent to murdering and you aren't so easily acceptant to it as he is. He has to protect you. Who else will? This is his job, and he'll do it right. He couldn't defend himself before, let alone a lover, but now, he knows he can prove himself to you.
🔪• Whenever he gets jealous, Corey never gets annoyed with you. It's not your fault you're so angelic. They shouldn't have been looking for so long. They can't look with no eyes though, can they?
🔪• He'll often give you his jackets or sweaters to wear in and out. It shows people that you're taken, which makes him smile to himself when people realise, as well as heightens his possessiveness.
🔪• "Y-you're mine, aren't you, beautiful?" Just say yes
🔪• Corey can't function without you. You're his reason for practically everything he does in life, and he thrives off of your comforting touches and compassionate gazes. He's not had such sweet attention for years, and getting it from you is the best feeling he's ever had. He won't let it go.
🔪• Sometimes, you can realise how jealous he's been feeling when his embrace from behind you in bed is a little too tight, a leg slung over yours and his curls tickling your cheek as he buries his face in your neck. It's almost impossible to get out of his grips when he's feeling pouty. The best way to make him ease up? Just hug him back, give him a few kisses, and tell him to calm his ass down, because you're not leaving him for anyone.
🔪• "Corey, you know I only want you, right?" "...Do you really?"
🔪• His eyes light up in hopefulness whenever you confirm with him that yes, you love him too, and what he's feeling is okay, but he shouldn't be threatened. At the end of the day, he still is apprehensive with anyone that smiles a little too widely at you, or whose eyes linger for too long, but that's just him. Occasionally, some guy who was getting on with you amazingly a day ago has gone missing, or has been found dead in horrible circumstances.
🔪• "Did you kill him, Corey? Why?" "W-well, because, I needed to make him understand. You're meant for me, not him."
🔪• He can even get a bit funny with your friends if he doesn't know them well, his arm constantly around your waist or shoulder. PDA is actually bliss for Corey, since it displays how close you two are openly, and no one can do a thing about it.
🔪• Another thing: if he's marked you up on your neck the night before, or early in the morning, purposely leaving them open to see makes Corey melt and get all excited. Because, hey, look, there are perfect red-purple marks under your chin, and the person staring didn't do that, did they?
🔪• He's only jealous because he's never felt so hopelessly in love and desperate for anyone before in his life. With the right words and gentle touches, you can dissolve a sticky situation pretty easily, but it's all only because he cares. He cares so much, he could kill somebody.
#corey cunningham x reader#corey cunningham#halloween ends#michael myers x reader#halloween movie#halloween franchise#halloween kills#halloween#halloween 2022#halloween 1978#corey cunningham smut#corey cunningham imagine#corey cunningham x you#michael myers halloween#michael myers fanfic#michael myers headcanons#michael myers#slashers x reader#slasher x reader#slasher fanfiction#slasher headcanons#slasher hcs#slasher fic#yandere slashers#slasher imagines#micheal myers
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Halloween
Here a little rz Michael Myers x reader for Halloween !
Of course Y/N had heard of Michael Myers.
Not because she was a fan of sordid news stories, but because his had appeared in the middle of all the search results associated with that name when she had typed it online, after receiving the name of her soulmate.
Y/N had read the story. She had seen the photos of a young Michael, ten years old, who had killed his stepfather, his sister and her boyfriend.
But there were other Michael Myers in the world. It wasn't a very common name, but there were several.
So she considered it possible that he wasn't her Michael.
Why would fate have linked her to a killer ? According to his psychiatrist, he was evil. He had killed a nurse at the asylum, for no reason. He was very dangerous, he had no soul, no consideration for others, no love to give.
Y/N hadn’t read Doctor Loomis’ book. She had read enough, and she didn't want to think about this story anymore, moving on with her life and waiting to meet her soulmate.
The name of the asylum should have been familiar to her when her friend Daryl told her about it, but she wasn't really listening to that part. A childhood friend had suffered a violent breakdown, attacking his neighbors, and now he was locked up there.
"His family isn't going to see him from what I've heard. No one is going to see him. I thought… I thought it would be nice to visit him ? If you want to come ?"
She wasn't as close to Ben as she was to Daryl, but Y/N agreed, because it was indeed a charitable act, and if something similar happened to her, she hoped someone would do the same for her, not leaving her alone in such a place
.
Everything was going pretty normally. Ben was calm, helped by his treatment and visibly happy to see them. Sitting together in a sort of drab canteen, they were chatting, while other patients were outside, tied to pedestals in the middle of a courtyard.
Y/N didn’t pay attention to them at first. Then a doctor rushed into the room, going towards the windows until he reached the one next to their table. He then turned towards them, then back towards the window, before settling his gaze on Y/N.
"It's you."
"… What ?"
“It’s you he’s looking at.” the doctor murmured as if fascinated.
Not understanding what he was talking about, Y/N looked at him for a long time, then at the window. No one seemed as agitated as the doctor. Everything seemed normal.
There was only this giant man, with long dirty blonde hair and an orange mask, who was turned in her direction. He actually seemed to be looking at her, but Y/N didn’t see why. She wasn't even sure if he could really see her from where he was.
The doctor had started talking again as she looked at the huge patient, but she wasn't listening. She only came back into the room when he placed a hand on her shoulder, which made her jump. Very slightly, almost imperceptibly, this also seemed to irritate the patient on the other side of the window.
"I know he's very impressive, don't look at him. Look at me. What's your name ?"
“Uh… Y/N, but I…”
"Y/N ? Y/N Y/L/N ?"
"Yes, why ?"
The doctor seemed crazy. As crazy as the patients. He looked at her like she was one of them, while Ben and Daryl were completely lost.
Not Y/N. She didn't need to read the doctor's name to understand his reaction, nor to guess how he knew hers. Even if he had never given it in his interviews or in his book, Doctor Loomis must have known the name of his favorite patient's soulmate.
The patient was still in the courtyard, watching them intently, his fists clenched.
But that didn't make sense, because he had no way of knowing who she was. They had never seen each other before, and she hadn't given her name at the door, just following Daryl. It was unlikely that Ben would have talked about her.
"He knows a lot of things. Would you like to talk to him ?" asked the doctor.
Y/N decided in that moment that he was really crazy. He could have reassured her, apologized, given her explanations, but his first instinct was to want to organize a meeting, to study Michael's reactions. Nothing else mattered.
She wanted to refuse. This didn't seem like a good idea. She could still leave and pretend she didn't understand what was happening and run away from here, never to return. But even without looking at him, she felt the eyes hidden behind the orange mask on her.
She had the feeling that his eyes would follow her everywhere from now on.
It was after she had given her consent that Doctor Loomis seemed to consider that he should promise her that she would not risk anything. Michael hadn't had an accident in years, he would be tied up, and several guards would be in the room, he wouldn't hurt her.
Very reassuring.
Michael Myers was already chained to a chair when she entered. The doctor invited her to sit opposite him.
It was hard to watch him. Not because he was huge, and scary, and weird with his mask. No, it was hard to think that her soulmate was right there, and that this would be the only interaction they would ever have, her tetanized on one side of the table, and him tied up on the other.
“Michael, do you know who this person is ?” the doctor began with a soft voice, too soft, as if he were speaking to a child.
"He knows." Y/N answered for him, still feeling his eyes on her.
She didn't turn to Loomis when he looked at her in surprise, wanting to know why she said that, how she could know. It was hard to escape those eyes.
"Good. So Michael, we often talked about Y/N when you were a kid. You couldn't wait to meet her. How do you feel today ?"
The scene was as sad as it was painful. It was obvious that Michael wouldn't speak. He hadn't spoken in years. But the doctor insisted, again and again, asking him lots of questions, making stupid remarks.
Then he wanted Y/N to speak. She didn't know what to say. She had often imagined this moment, but the meeting never happened like this. What could she say to Michael ?
"I'm sorry." was the only thing that came to her mind.
Michael didn't move, but she thought she saw something in his eyes. Loomis was not pleased, putting a hand on her shoulder to shake her and force her to say more.
As soon as his fingers touched her, Michael was on his feet, his chair falling behind him and his chains making a dangerous noise, indicating that they could break at any moment if he pulled on them a little more. The guards pointed their weapons at him, but the doctor ordered them not to move, immediately withdrawing his hand.
"Sorry, Michael. I didn't mean to make you angry. But it's very good. You reacted, it's very good. We'll do it again another day."
Y/N had no intention of doing it again another day. She didn't tell the doctor even though he asked her to leave the room.
As she passed him, Michael grabbed her hand. The guards were tense again, and the doctor became a bit more panicked, asking his patient to remain calm and not do anything stupid.
He could have hurt her badly. Y/N knew it, and that was why she had the intelligence to b afraid. But he didn't squeeze hard, just holding her hand so she would stay a bit longer, breathing hard and movingas close as possible to her despite his chains.
"… I'm sorry." she repeated, freeing herself and leaving quickly.
She hadn't given Loomis her number or address. Ben had understood that she did not want to be contacted by the doctor, promising not to give any information about her. He didn't like the doctor anyway.
He had no way of finding her.
There was only one thing Y/N had forgotten. If the doctor couldn't, Michael could. He knew a lot of things, even though it seemed impossible.
He had known right away who she was, and now that his eyes had landed on her, he wouldn't leave her.
As she could not be contacted, no one called to tell her he had escaped. The media had not yet been alerted, so that the population would not panic for nothing.
Maybe Y/N could have had a doubt, noting that it was Halloween. Michael Myers was killing on Halloween night.
However, she wasn't as surprised as she might have been when she found a man in her living room. Huge, with a white mask and a mechanic's outfit. Staying in a dark corner, breathing hard and staring at her.
It was harder to see his eyes with this mask, but she could feel them.
It had been over a month since they met, but she hadn't forgotten that feeling. She had often dreamed of him, waking up with a start, because these dreams often turned into nightmares.
Y/N had no idea if that would be the case now.
"… Good evening Michael." she said slowly, staying near the door.
He didn't answer. She didn't expect him to answer, so she didn't ask questions, even though she wanted to know what he wanted, if he was going to hurt her, kill her, or worse.
He didn't have a knife. It didn't mean anything, his huge hands were like weapons.
A sob escaped her without her realizing it, and Michael tilted his head to the side, watching the tear that ran down her cheek.
Then he approached with a slow step, a deceptive step, because Y/N knew very well that she couldn't escape him and that if she tried to flee, he would catch her without difficulty.
Trembling, she watched him stand in front of her, his hand touching her face to wipe away the tear. The gesture was almost gentle, like when he had stopped her in the asylum.
Maybe Loomis wasn't entirely wrong, maybe he wouldn't hurt her.
The only person in the world he didn't want to hurt.
“Sorry…” she said again stupidly, continuing to tremble.
In response, he gently patted her head in a reassuring gesture, indicating that he was not angry. He must have known the effect he had on people.
He then put his hand in the pocket of his suit and took out something which he handed to her. A candy. Michael only seemed satisfied when she accepted it and put it in her mouth.
Then he left through the back door, without a word.
It was Halloween night. He had things to do.
Then maybe he would come back for her.
Y/N didn’t know. She didn't know whether to call the asylum or the police. He was a killer, a dangerous madman, the devil, the boogeyman you couldn't escape, but also her soulmate. The one she had waited for her whole life.
So she remained motionless in the living room, crying until she was exhausted, and heard the sound of the door opening again.
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Love (Michael Myers x reader )
Michael Myers may be a vicious serial killer but when he gets home he gets very clingy, possessive and loving towards you you may ask why we'll because your the only person who loves him for him and not a monster that everybody sees him as you see him as a person Like everyone else which is why he will always love that about you.
Michael was just coming home from a kill he had knife cuts around his arm from one of this victims who had a weapon and stab/cut him but, it didn't really bother him he was use to it so when he got home he got a good scolding from you
“Michael you have to be careful i worry about you you know you always come home with new cuts or even maybe a bullet wound and it makes me worry that your not being careful” Y/n said and started to tear up
“what if something was to happen I-I wouldn't know cause you don't say anything” Y/n said
Michael then pulls you in a hug to stop you from crying now Michael doesn't really do emotions or affection but when it comes to you he's all for it he's a big softy when it comes to you, after you calm down you went and told him
“ Michael please be careful next time promise me okay.” Y/n said to Michael , Michael grunted which means okay or sure thanks
“ now stay here so I can at least patch you up so you won't get an infection” Y/n said as you then went to the cabinet and got the first aid kit and started patching him up while your doing that Michael take the chance to look at you patching him up thinking how he loves you and how much he loves when your worried about him nobody's ever been this nice to him.
he's always been treated horribly when growing up so how did he get such a nice pretty girlfriend/wife right here in front of him but he's not complaining what surprised you was when Michael suddenly wrapped his big strong arms around your waist and laid his head on you
“ are you okay Michael?” Y/n asks
“ mmh” he said
“ is this your way of showing that you love me?” Y/n asked Michael then squeeze your waist as saying yes
you then respond back saying “I love you to but next time be careful okay” Y/n said
“mmh” he said
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Can you do a small fic with rz Michael? Just a comfort fic, helping Michael cope with trauma bc the poor baby needs it.
Tried my best to write what you asked! You didn’t specify gender so this will be gender neutral.
𝐌𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐞𝐥 𝐌𝐲𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐗 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 | ❀
𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞:𝐅𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟 | ❀
You and Michael hadn’t been dating for long, and not in the way you expected. While most relationships start from a school crush, or your parents setting you up, yours started after smith oaks decided to interview you. You took the offer of course, you wanted a well paying job, and you were smart enough for it, so why not, how bad could it be?
And although being with Michael wasn’t the worst thing to happen to you, you wished it could be easier sometimes. You knew what his childhood was like, and you tried being understanding, but no matter how hard you tried, or how patient you were, he was always closed off. You didn’t even sleep in the same house, he only slept in the Myers home, he didn’t even trust you enough to eat your food. You decided that if you wanted this relationship to work, you would need to talk to him.
-“Michael, can we talk?”
You asked him, heading downstairs once you heard him enter, through the back door like usual.
He peered up at you, clearly nervous, although he barely heard those words put together, he could tell it wasn’t good, but he agreed nonetheless.
-“You’ve been so closed off since we started dating, you won’t sleep in my bed, or eat my food. Is their something going on”
Michael didn’t know how to respond, were you angry? Concerned? Insulted? He didn’t know. He couldn’t tell by your voice, you always spoke to him in a soft voice, almost like his mother, but your voice seemed almost like that of doctors at the hospital. He finally broke down, he never cried in front of you but at this point, he was too emotional to stop himself. Even though you couldn’t see with his mask, you could hear it. You grabbed his hand, leading him to the couch, sitting down, and leading his head onto your lap, removing his mask and gently scratching his head.
-“I’m not mad at you Mikey, I’m just worried that our relationship won’t end well if you’re not open with me”
You said, using your soft, motherly voice once again.
-“We’ll be okay”
He stated, the first time he talked in 15 years
#slashers#rz michael myers#michael myers fanfic#michael myers x reader#michael myers#rz myers x reader#halloween#rob zombie#tyler mane#horror#fluff
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Michael makes them watch
1.3k Words, Fem!Reader x Michael x Male Bystander
You're the only one of your friends to escape, and Michael is not giving up on you. He follows you down the rural dirt road, and you bang on the first house you find, screaming for help. A stranger lets you in and locks the door behind you, but before he can call for help, Michael kicks in the door. He strips the stranger and ties him up. Michael has his way with you on the floor and makes the guy watch. You survive but Michael takes you with him.
NSFW 18+ Noncon, pursuit, Variety of dark depravity, choosing not to warn in further detail (haven't read it in a year), but it's dark. Read at your own risk.
You bang on the door of the only house around, screaming for help. It’s a farm, and you pray to god someone is home. You know Michael is following you. You were the only one to escape and you ran out without your jacket. The cold is catching up with you now that you stopped running. You keep knocking and a stranger, a hot farmer to be exact, lets you in and locks the door behind you. It's warm inside. The stranger goes to call 911.
Before you know it, Michael kicks the door in with his huge boot. You hide in a closet while Michael destroys the stranger's phone, strips him down to his briefs, duct tapes his mouth shut, and ties him to a chair in the dimly lit living room.
Seconds later, Michael's large arm bursts into the closet, followed by his shoulder and broad chest and his jumpsuit’s tall, erect collar framing his mask. He grabs you by the hair, then lifts you to your feet. Michael throws you over his shoulder, carries you to the living room, and dumps you on the floor. The stranger tries to protest, but his cries are muffled by the duct tape.
You start to crawl away and Michael's huge, calloused hands jerk you back against him and you feel the Shape's hard bulge through his jumpsuit where your legs meet your ass. To your horror, you feel a warm flutter between your legs.
Michael's forearm on your back holds you down as he yanks your pants and underwear down. You try to wriggle free and his arm digs further into you. Feeling the Shape's giant hands on your bare hips, you're turned on. You're wet and whimper in confusion. Michael unzips himself and frees his giant, raging hard-on.
The stranger closes his eyes and cries through the duct tape and tries to move the chair and it topples over with the stranger still attached. Michael, still on his knees, turns and hooks his boots over your ankles, holding you down while he sets the stranger and chair back upright. He scoots then holds his knife to the stranger's throat. He forces the stranger's eyes open and manhandles his jaw to face your direction, making it very clear the stranger must watch.
Michael turns back toward you and straddles your legs. Then, you feel his hard length drag against your slit, and a moan escapes your mouth, startling you. Michael tilts his head at how slick you are. He brings two huge fingers to your seam and drags them forward to your clit and back a few times and then thrusts them inside and you gasp.
The Shape takes out his fingers and spreads your wetness on the stranger's cock. Then, Michael picks up his knife and slices the rope off the stranger's hands. You watch Michael force the stranger's cock into his own hand. The Shape's hands wrap around the stranger's hand and cock and jerk him briefly. The stranger is hard. Michael is going to force him to jerk off while he fucks you in front of him.
Michael's large hands around your hips pull your ass back against his enormous, veiny, rock-hard length. He drags his rough fingers against your seam again, which is somehow even wetter now. The swollen head of his cock follows, and you feel it pressing at your entrance. The stranger isn't stroking himself until Michael shoots him a look, then he hesitantly, dutifully begins to pump himself, still tied to the chair.
The Shape leans into you and pushes just the tip of his cock inside. You gasp. It's already a stretch. He forces you further back against him. The stretch hurts so good as he pulls you back on his monster cock. You can't take the whole shaft, but he buries as much as he can inside you.
An uncalled for, pleasureful knot grows in your lower abdomen as the Shape begins to pound into you. With each thrust, the feeling builds in your gut. Michael turns his head to ensure the stranger's obedience. The stranger is crying, but fully erect, and his strokes have become far less hesitant. Michael continues to pummel you, and your poor little cunt grips around his shaft every time it pulls back, begging him further into you again.
Without pulling out, Michael looks at the stranger and rotates his wrist as though to look at an imaginary watch. Suddenly you realize if the stranger finishes before Michael, he might survive. Maybe you'll survive, too.
Michael continues to ram himself into you, using your hips to pull your ass against his groin, and you give into the pleasure, angling your hips where it feels best. You work with him, not against him. You fuck him and allow your body to feel every bit of the twisted bliss. Being impaled by the Shape feels otherworldly. The knot is tightening in your core and your whole body has butterflies.
Michael firmly grabs your ass cheeks in his huge hands then smacks one of them with a force that's sure to leave a mark. Your breath hitches and the handprint tingles with cold heat. The next time he thrusts, you see stars. You clench around him, pulsing on his cock with each wave of your orgasm. A pleasant release floods your body and your eyelids get heavy. Michael's large hands run over your ass almost affectionately.
Michael checks on the stranger and continues to plunge his length into you. Michael huffs and you sense he's going to come soon. You don't know how you know, but you're certain the stranger's throat will be slit if he doesn't come first.
Michael smacks your ass again and you feel his monster cock twitch inside you. The tension is building rapidly in your core again. The hot stranger pumps himself furiously. He's crying with tears running down his face. Michael lets out a muffled grunt and his head faces the ceiling. The stranger vocalizes into the tape, and you look over just in time to see the hot farmer's thick, white spend shoot into his abs then gurgle into his fist and he sighs in relief.
Michael's huge, rough hands firmly grip your sides as his hips pound into you at a brutal pace. You’re on the edge of bliss again and you whimper with the need for release. The Shape audibly grunts, and at the sound of his muffled pleasure, you begin to uncoil. As your cunt flutters around his cock, he erupts inside you. You involuntarily contract around him harder and harder, milking an unfathomable load of hot cum into yourself. You feel a rush of life that drowns out any shame.
He doesn't only fill you with his cock or his cum - he fills you with a warm, thick, swirling dark energy that fills every nook and cranny of your being. It makes you feel whole. You feel connected to something. Michael withdraws and his seed trickles down your thigh. You feel a new emptiness without him inside you. You wonder if you'll feel empty forever. You've never felt anything like it.
Michael breathes heavily in his mask, then rips the duct tape off the stranger and lets you get dressed. The stranger is sobbing. "What the fuck what the fuck that was so fucked up oh my god." Michael holds his knife to his throat and the stranger swears he's never going to tell a soul. Michael holds up the stranger's car keys and the stranger says "Yes, yes, take the Bronco, I don't need it, take whatever you want I'll never tell a soul i promise." Michael nods once. The stranger looks down at the mess in his lap and adds "I swear I'll never tell. I could never." He sobs in shame, apologizes to you, and keeps asking if you're okay. When he won't shut up, the duct tape comes back.
As you finish dressing yourself, your body is still humming with pleasure but you're also confused and tired and scared. You can't forget your friends are dead. Michael pockets the car keys and grabs some other stuff from the house including a cowboy hat off the wall and a sherpa lined jean jacket, which he hands to you - Wow, Michael Myers noticed you didn't have a coat? He leaves the stranger tied up and forces you to your feet. You ask where you're going. He doesn't have the patience for your questions.
The Shape manhandles you into the old Bronco and takes you with him.
#michael myers smut#halloween 1978#michael myers x you#michael myers x reader#michael myers fanfic#bisexual!michael myers#toxicanonymity ☠️#love2cuck
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i love your work!!!!!! i was wondering if i could request a Michael Myers x reader where the reader is just completely burned out and tired with everything, if youre to busy you can completely ignore this <3
Tired
Michael Myers x reader
Tagslist: @dootys @callmemeelah @fluffy-little-demon @mehidktbh @slash3rl0v3r @beanbagbitch @mrs-heelshire @smenny @alexxavicry @thatoneweirdgirlspage @l0sercat @starlight--darling @naxxsstuff @beel-mcburger @emychan @sadskies @charliedawn @bunnysenpai31 @slasherscrybaby
The rain poured over the windshield of your car as you pulled up into your driveway, you rested your head against the wheel before turning the car off completely. You stayed in the car for a few minutes, grabbing the umbrella to cover yourself from the pouring rain. You opened the front door to be met with nothing but the darkness of your own home, Michael must still be out on his killing spree, and you took your shoes off against the door. Already feeling a headache starting from just remembering what happened earlier at work. Your boss kept giving you more work by the minute even though other people could've done it.
You knew your house like the back of your hand, so there we no need to turn on the nights, if you did, it would blind your eyes since it was already pitch black outside. Setting your keys aside, you took off your jacket and hung it up in a closet. The light turned on, which made you squint your eyes to see who did it. Michael was standing by the light switch with a bloody kitchen knife in his hand. It was yours, even though he had his knife, Michael liked to use your knife since it was better than the one he has. There was nothing but blood on his knife, somehow, it didn't get on his clothes which was a relief since you didn't have to wash them again for the fifth time this week.
"Oh, Hi Michael," You said in a tired voice.
Usually, you'd make Michael food when he comes back but you were too tired to do anything, all you wanted to do was lie down in your bed and sink into your blankets. Hoping that by the time you wake up, it was a new day. "Sorry, I don't feel like making dinner tonight Mike," You rubbed your tired eyes, "But there's leftover spaghetti in the fridge if you want some..." Even though you love to cook for Michael, you just didn't have the energy to. All that work you did drained most of your energy to where you don't want to do anything else besides lay down in your bed. You were just tired of everything. But still pushed through your limits.
You didn't even realize that Michael got close to you, the bloody knife no longer in his hand as he put a hand on your shoulder, his grip was firm but it didn't hurt. You looked up at him, not like you could see his eyes anyway, the dark circles in his mask stared back at you. Who knows what he was thinking at this moment. He tilted his head, wondering why you were not as energetic as you usually were. "Just had a long day Michael, it'll pass..." You took his hand and patted the back of his hand. "If you need me... I'll be upstairs."
All you heard was your slow footsteps approaching the top of the stairs, feeling Michael stare at you from the bottom of the stairs. Turning on your bedroom light, you changed into more comfortable clothes before turning it back off and slipping into the covers. You felt more tired once your back hit the bed. Your eyes began to droop, they were wide open when you felt Michael staring at you. You turned around to see Michaels's figure sitting on the bed. "Michael, have mercy." You groaned, throwing the covers over your head, and turning around so that your back was facing him. It was silent. You still felt his glare at you. He pulled the covers off of you, making you gasp at the sudden coldness in the room.
"Michael!" You tried to get the covers back but he was too strong, you didn't even try to put up a fight, turning over with a huff. He gripped your shoulder again, making you sit up. You had no other choice, "Yes Michael?" You didn't want to sound irritated but Michael wouldn't leave you alone. The hand on your shoulder slowly tugged forward. He was hesitant with what he was doing, you follows his movements until it felt like your head was in his lap. You could tell he was trying since he isn't the one to give affection. It was the thought that counts, smiling at the thought of Michael trying to comfort you since your day was rough. His hand was placed on your arm, it was warm, his thumb would occasionally rub against your arm giving you goosebumps.
Your eyes began to droop again, but you felt more comfortable than being under the covers, Michaels's breathing was the only thing that was heard, it was a comforting sound to hear, you mumbled something that Michael managed to hear before you drifted off to sleep again. "Thank you, Michael."
#Michael myers#michael myers x reader#michael myers x you#michael myers x s/o#michael myers fluff#michael myers imagine#michael myers fanfic#slashers x reader#slashers#slasher#slasher fluff#slasher imagines#slasher x you#slasher x reader#slasher x y/n
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Pov: you slap Michaels ass (💀)
It was your average day, not too hot, not too cold, just average. Average clouds, winds, sun. Michael had just came home from doing god forbid who knows what, so you greeted him like usual:
"Hi Michael! Welcome back" to which he nodded in reply. Why did you get this idea? Who knows. Maybe it was the way his ass was just screaming your name. Michael walked past you and then suddenly..
SMACK
Michaels head turned around so quick, it almost snapped off his neck.
Did you...
Did you just slap the BOOGYMAN'S ass?
You looked stunned as well, hand now burning red from how hard you slapped his butt. Michael stared at you for a short while, contemplating on what his next moves should be. Should he kill you? Why did you do that? Wasn't it supposed to be the other way around?-
SMACK
YOU DID IT AGAIN!!
Michael doesn't know what to do, but he's not about to just get ASSAULTED like this. He grabbed your arm, spun you around and then-
SMACK
Now it's YOUR turn to be surprised. Did Michael just slap your ass?? "Michael that kind of hur-"
SMACK, SMACK, SMACK
At this point he's spanking you as if you just did something utterly horrible and needed to get punished. To be honest, you kind of did. With every moment his hand make contact with your ass, a not so loud high pitch scream erupted from your throat.
Oh..
Michael doesn't know how to feel about this..- suddenly you manage to wiggle away and escape. You dash off with Michael chasing you down like a wild dog. You were going to pay for slapping his ass like that. 💀
#slasher community#michael myers x reader#michael myers#slasher x reader#slasher imagines#slasher fic#slasher fanfiction#slasher x you#michael myers fanfic#michael myers imagine#slasher fandom#slasher headcanons
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Omfg I love your work! I was wondering if you can do slashers (any slashers) headcanon x a fem!reader who Isn’t like regular victims who run away screaming, but is actually willing to stand there and fight them and being all badass 🤭
Slashers... Save me..
Slashers
Save me slashers
Slashers and Fem!Reader who tries to swing on them
Includes: Michael Myers, Jason Voorhees, and Bubba Sawyer
A/n: YEAH! GET HIS ASS 🗣️🗣️🗣️ Requests are open (see pinned post for info)
Michael Myers:
Oh yeah, you could beat his ancient ass in a fight
It's not the first time he's had someone fight back, but it's still suprsing
You can definitely slow him down, but there's no way you're knocking him out
Your best bet is throwing shit at him and then running
Don't think you're getting too far, though. He'll catch you. Even if it takes years.
Jason Voorhees:
He finds you in the middle of the woods and starts stalking toward you, and instead of running, you hurl your flashlight at his head
He's so thrown off guard. Having a random girl fight against the 6'5 beast of a man that he is, is suprsing, to say the least.
He falls back when the flashlight hits his head, and at this point you either run, or continue to fight him
Either way, after the fight you put up against him, he decides he'll probably let you go.
Bubba Sawyer:
Honestly, if you really manage to beat his ass, he'd probably cry
You had been unfortunate enough to wander into his family's house. He's about to grab you from behind when you turn around and just punch him square in the nose.
He'll try to fight back, but if you get in enough punches, he'll either run away or curl up in a ball and wait for you to stop
You can successfully make a run for it. He'd probably be scared to go after you.
#x reader#fanfiction#michael myers x reader#michael myers fanfic#jason voorhees x reader#jason voorhees fanfic#bubba sawyer x reader#Bubba sawyer fanfic#slashers fanfiction#slashers x reader
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Michael Myers x reader: Sunday roast
Title: Sunday roast
Summary: Michael had expectations of the world, what it would be like when he was free again - but the reality was a little less bright. One evening his hunger drives him closer to a warm house, drives him to you.
Warnings: can be read for any version of Michael. Deals with his thoughts and situation after his escape. Sfw. Not that shippy but perhaps that will come later :)) Happy early Halloween!!
Wordcount: 934
Link to my masterlist
Divider by @/firefly-graphics
A month. That’s how long had passed since he escaped the sanatorium. He thought being out would change him, but it hadn’t. His mind was as busy and annoying as ever – and his dreams were worse. His old childhood home was still home, but it had little of the comforts it used to have. Food didn’t magically appear in the cabinets, no one concerned themselves with him in there, the only thing it held was a filthy mattress and mice in the walls. He liked the mice, though, they weren’t the problem.
.
And so the days filled themselves. Stealing food, seeking shelter, trying anything to get to a stable mental space. It lasted him a week, during which it rained those bone chilling October rains. He went out, hood over his head, mask on, knife in the pocket of his stained coveralls. Few houses still had the lights on at this hour. The rain was a light drizzle, but the biting wind made it cold. There was a smell in the air, beside that of wet pavement, something warm and familiar. Food. It came from a house with the lights on in the kitchen. Michael came closer to the house, closer than he normally dared at this stage of his hunt, close enough to hear the clatter of the spatula as you dropped it on the counter. The oven beeped, a waft of heat made you recoil, before hands in oven mitts carried the tray to the table. Roast potatoes… How long had it been since he had those? His mouth watered. A twitch in his hand made him realise his hunger out won his bloodlust, at least tonight. And those potatoes are best when they’re still hot.
.
You didn’t notice him when he slipped in the house, nor the kitchen. He rapped his knuckles against the wood, and you turned around startled. You jumped as you saw him, his white rubber mask, spatula still in hand, onions sizzling away in the pan. Before you could act or speak, he pointed to the tray of roast potatoes on the table in between the two of you.
Eyebrows knitting together in either confusion or fear. “Food? You are hungry?”
Instead of an answer, Michael shoved a chair back and sat down. He watched as the thoughts crossed your face, from alarm to confusion to a final resolute decision.
“That’s quite a familiar mask,” you said, as you reached for a plate from the cabinet and put it in front of the stranger. The spatula too, Michael took it from your hand impatiently and helped himself to a generous serving.
“It must’ve been tough, finally getting out and then this cursed rain never stops,” you say, mindless, as you turn your back to him to grab a second spatula from the drawer and stir the onions. Then halted your movements, and got a fork and let it clatter down on the table, for Michael to grab and use.
Even the smell of burnt onions were a delight. He rolled up the bottom of his mask to allow himself to eat, peeking to ensure you weren’t looking. When you turned around at the second scrape of the fork on the plate, you quickly averted your eyes. Breathed deep, hands gripping the counter, before you resolutely gripped the pan handle and carried it to the table. Without asking, you scooped a good amount of mushrooms, onions and carrots in gravy on Michael’s plate.
Not knowing what else to do, you sat down, dejected, across from him and ate small bites. As he watched you like a hawk, it truly seemed you weren’t reaching for to phone on the wall by the kitchen window, or to do anything shady with the knife that’s still on the cutting board. He devoured the first serving, determined to get as much food in, before things would inevitably go south. A second serving; smaller but still sizable. He was a large, famished man. His hunger was satiated by then, but the homely taste of potatoes in butter and onion gravy made it difficult to stop himself from enjoying a little more.
When he shoved the plate away from him and stood up, it was as if the world returned into razor sharp focus. You hadn’t eaten nearly as much as him, too nervous, but were wide eyed with innocence beyond those nerves. Following his movements, you too stood, but immediately pulled open the fridge.
“Dessert?”
He breathed out, this was truly like a feast. His birthdays, he’d remember his momma with the same tone, asking if he wanted pudding, or candy when they’d watch a movie on tv that went on until later than his bedtime. He nodded, flexing his hand, trying to ground himself. What was this feeling? Good food. That was all. Good food nourished him, satisfied him. And now there’s dessert.
There was just one case of pudding, and you stuck two spoons into the large cup. It was a family portion, no doubt. You ate with him then, although he was quicker, and was the one to finish it all.
“Sweet tooth?” you asked, eyebrow raised, after the spoon clattered against his plate. He leant back, smoothing over his coveralls. You stood and gathered all the dishes to wash, a process during which he slipped out as unnoticed as he came. A mercy unlike any before. Sighing and taking survey of the amount of dishes to be done, you called out from over your shoulder, jokingly: “The cook is relieved of dish duty?” only to be met with silence.
#michael myers#halloween#slasher community#slashers#rz michael myers#michael myers x reader#slasher fandom#michael myers fanfiction#michael myers x you#rz michael myers x reader#rz myers x reader#halloween 1978#rob zombies halloween#rz halloween#michael myers fanfic#halloween franchise#slasher movies#halloween movie#michael audrey myers#trying my hand at sfw writings to avoid the new warning system of tumblr :))#smith's grove sanatorium#halloween kills#halloween 2018
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Legit ANYTHING Corey related- im head over hEELS for that man rn
Im also a sucker for fluff ;)
Dating Corey Cunningham Would Be Like This:
A/N: Might as well start with the dating hcs 🙃 requests are open if you want more for this guy. Please keep in mind that I'm not comfortable writing smut yet though; I've noted that on my inbox page and pinned post, but I've been getting quite a few smutty asks 😅
🔪• Corey's been through a lot, and to find a person willing to give him a chance and treat him like a person who matters... I absolutely believe he'd turn into a soft yandere. He's head over heels in love, protective to the point of killing anyone who tries to hurt you or take you away from him, and obsessively infatuated. He lives for you, and he'd die for you, period.
🔪• You probably meet him when he's being pushed around by a group of bullies somewhere in Haddonfield, and manage to get them off his back for a while, with a string of hateful comments. The boy's stunned that someone's standing up for him, and when you help him get his glasses back on after they were slapped off his face, he's stunned all over again. It takes Corey a good minute to stop stuttering and staring at you with wide, dopey eyes and form an actual sentence to introduce himself.
🔪• When you take him back to yours to patch him up, you can't help but notice his breath hitch at your soft touches, such a contrast from the rough shoves and harsh words he gets day after day outside. Heart eyes to the extreme as you concentrate on stopping any blood, and apologise when it stings. Corey barely notices it, and when you pull away as you finish, he chases your hand for a second before he blinks back into reality, heat rushing to his cheeks as he looks down at his feet and thanks you.
🔪• He has no idea why you're so nice to him, but from that day on, he's hooked. You're gonna start seeing him randomly pop up wherever you are, and at first, you assume it's because Corey wants to have you around so it discourages people from picking on him. Nope. He wouldn't mind if he was kicked around, if you could lean in close and clean him up so caringly again. He's fallen hard and very quickly, especially when you reassure him that you know he didn't kill that boy on purpose. You believe him? He almost cries, and looks up at you in wonder, with a hopeful "really?"
🔪• Corey Cunningham has found someone that sees him as a person instead of a monster, and he adores that the person is you. It doesn't take him long to ask him out; it is hard for him to get the courage to, since he's worried that he might be going too fast and certainly aiming too high with you. Saying yes to him will just fully unleash Corey being the clingiest, doting, protective boyfriend you'll ever know. He won't let you go now that he's found you. If he can't have you, no one can.
🔪• He's pretty goofy with how he acts and what he says, but you've told him it's cute, so he won't try to change. Being with you, he wants to keep you happy all the time, and keeps you to himself as much as possible, just in case you start listening to what others have got to say about him. Whatever you tell him though, he'll try to remember as much as possible, so he can how he's been listening by bringing it up again or giving you a little gift related to it.
🔪• To be honest, Corey's a really sweet, doting lover, and he looks at you like you're an angel whenever you're close together, or just working around the house. He'll follow you around like a lost puppy, and has puppy eyes to match, constantly clinging to you and wanting to help with whatever he can. It could get a little annoying if you don't want a shadow around you all the time, but he wants you as happy as possible, so if you tell him your boundaries, he'll eagerly follow them.
🔪• Corey's obsessiveness grows the closer you get, to the point where he goes as far as to kill for you. After he runs into Michael Myers, he takes both of your hands and looks you straight in the eyes excitedly as he tells you that he's not afraid of people anymore, and that he loves that you're always there to protect him. But now, he wants to be the one to protect you. He loves you to death, and he wants to prove it. It's up to you to decide whether or not to let him deal with anyone that upsets you with his violent methods, but he can and will if you say the word.
🔪• If you happen to meet Michael Myers, he won't kill you, but he won't be all soft with you either. His idea of being nice is not killing you, and that's that. Gradually, gradually, he'll decide to protect you, even opting to lurk around in the shadows and check on you and Corey every now and then, like a twisted kind of father figure or friend. So, if you're ever in trouble, you've got Haddonfield's boogeymen behind you when you need them.
🔪• It's scary to see the level of protectiveness and unhidden anger in Corey's eyes when someone's rude to you in front of him, a dark glare in his usually kind eyes. Suddenly, they've gone missing, or they've died in suspicious circumstances, Corey not paying any attention to the news report as he hugs you from where you're curled up on his lap with a small frown on your face. If you ask him for the truth, if he did it for you, he'll shrug and nod, "Well... yeah, I- I did it for you. I love you..." and that's all the explanation there really is.
🔪• He likes taking you for rides on his motorcycle in the evening, just to feel your arms embrace him tightly and a proud grin on his face when he knows you're enjoying it. Corey tries carrying you back upstairs afterwards, which ends up with you both collapsing in a heap on the bed, and him engulfing you with a tight hug with kisses planted on every inch of skin he can find.
🔪• Speaking of affection, Corey can be pretty smothering with it. He's shy and awkward at first, but after hugging you for the first time, and having your first kiss, he can't get enough of your attention and affection. He'll drink it up with a lovesick smile and lean into all of your touches. He can show how needy he is by whining in protest whenever you break a kiss for air, and latches back on in a second.
🔪• The pet names he gives you can be the basic 'baby' and 'sweetheart,' but Corey calls you stronger, more meaningful names at intimate moments too. 'Angel' is a very common one that he coos when he wakes you up gently in the mornings, burying his face in your neck, or whenever you're cleaning him up after a fight or a kill.
🔪• The times when he's most vulnerable, when you've got him wrapped around your finger playing with his curls, he'll whisper to you how all of him belongs to you, that he'll do anything for you, die for you. He's being absolutely honest, and it's nice to hear, but sometimes, when your eyes meet his desperate, loving gaze, you have to tell him that you don't want him to do anything too extreme for you, that you love him just the way he is.
🔪• You can never just kiss Corey briefly before you leave the house to work or anything. He'll draw out any affection you give him for as long as he can, so it's a hard task to prise his hands off your waist with a promise that you'll be done with work soon. It often ends up with him trailing after you, holding your hand tightly and stroking the back of it absentmindedly with his thumb.
🔪• Being in a relationship with Corey Cunningham is full of loving attention, obsessively so, and to know that he'd go as far to basically go on a killing spree for you is nice in a weird kind of way? There's no hope of getting out of it though, because he's happily devoted to you now, and that's just the way he likes it. God forbid anyone who tries messing with it.
#corey cunningham x reader#corey cunningham#halloween ends#michael myers x reader#halloween movie#halloween franchise#halloween kills#halloween#halloween 2022#halloween 1978#slasher x reader#slashers x reader#slashers#slasher headcanons#slasher fanfiction#slasher hcs#slasher imagines#michael myers fanfic#michael myers headcanons#michael myers halloween#michael myers#micheal myers#the shape#laurie strode#yandere slashers#slashers headcanons
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Wow! My first real smut fic! We’ll pretend I haven’t been mortified about sharing it for a whole week. MINORS DNI.
Spoils of War
Halloween night, 2021. The people of Haddonfield are dead set on killing the Boogeyman. You, not so much. When the dust settles, you are the only one left, wearing handcuffs and a short skirt. Whatever will he do with you? Takes place smack in the middle of the third act of Halloween Kills.
Rating: Explicit/NSFW
Length: 1.9k
CW: dubcon, fingering, vaginal sex, blood kink, marking, light bondage, mild gore, murder, someone (you lol) gets arrested
AFAB!Reader POV
Halloween in Haddonfield brought out the worst of mob mentality every year, but this night had been unprecedented.
You were swept along in the crowd that rushed to Field Street, armed with baseball bats and delusions of grandeur. You didn’t have a weapon. Someone tried to hand you a tire iron, which you accepted and then dropped as inconspicuously as possible. Awash in the panic, you watch the townsfolk set up a sort of perimeter with their cars and their chaos.
“Everyone watch for Karen!” someone calls. “Watch for Karen, she’ll lead him here!”
This is madness. There are uniformed officers in the crowd, guns drawn. Everyone you know – the librarian, the grocery store clerk, the high school biology teacher – is eyeball-deep in bloodlust.
“This isn’t right,” you say, almost to yourself. “This is wrong, he’s just a man.”
“Just a man?” scoffs the crossing guard next to you, holding a two by four instead of a stop sign. “He’s a monster.”
“You don’t have to be here,” says a police officer. “Go hide in your house if you don’t want to be a part of it.”
“Here she comes!” someone yells.
The crowd grows instantly, eerily silent.
Karen Nelson sprints out of an alleyway, holding Michael’s mask in her fist. How the hell did she get a hold of that? “He’s coming,” she says breathlessly, “he’s right behind me.” She drops the mask in the middle of the street and veers off to the left.
Three heartbeats later, there he is, looming out of the shadows like he’s made from them. He is huge, a hulking shape of a man. The headlights of the cars around you burn to life and he stops, taking in the scene. You can’t tear your eyes from his face, caked in blood, half the flesh raw and pink with fresh burns, his dead eye gleaming like a pearl in the yellow light. He is grizzled, his visage marked by scars and the trauma of a long, brutal life. He is striking. He is an apex predator in his element. He regards the vigilantes of Haddonfield without fear or surprise. The knot in your stomach tightens. Something terrible is going to happen.
“Hey Michael, it’s Halloween,” Officer Brackett says, his thick finger heavy on the trigger of his service revolver. “Everyone’s entitled to one good scare.”
“Stop!” You find your voice and almost immediately lose it again as everyone looks at you, including the Boogeyman. “Stop. We can’t do this. He’s a person – we’re all just people – we can’t do this!”
Someone grabs your arm. You hear the snick of handcuffs and feel cold steel around your wrist. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” you say, meeting the eyes of the police officer taking hold of your other arm and cuffing it behind your back. “What are you doing?”
“You’re disturbing the peace,” he says as he pulls you to the squad car a few feet away. “Cool off in here, you’ll be safe.”
“This is fucking ridiculous!” you shout. He pushes you into the backseat. “You can’t do this! We’re not animals!” The crowd returns their attention to Michael as the car door swings shut in your face. But Michael’s attention is focused on you. His stare is scalding. A thrill shoots all the way down your center. Those eyes….
Haddonfield’s heroes square up, adjusting their grips on pitchforks and home appliances. One woman is holding a clothes iron. At last, Michael resigns himself to the task at hand. He stoops and picks up the mask, pulls it on like a second skin. The neighborhood closes in. He is wary, knife in hand, anticipating an attack from any angle, every angle. You know it has been a long night for everyone. You imagine he must be exhausted.
You don’t see who takes the first swing, but from one moment to the next, all hell breaks loose. Improvised weapons whistle through the air, missing, making contact with sickening thuds. Someone fires a gun and misses their target entirely. They try again and aim true and you watch the Shape jerk as he takes two, three, four, five bullets to the chest before toppling to the ground. Everyone is horribly silent until they get their turn to bludgeon him, at which point they grunt like beasts with the exertion of a full-strength swing. You, however, are screaming.
When a final strike from Tommy Doyle ceases Michael’s attempts to rise, the crowd pauses, waiting. You cannot hear the exchange, but you see Karen step forward, pick the knife up out of Michael’s trembling reach, and then plunge it into his spine. You cringe. He slumps. You realize there are tears on your face. You cannot name the emotion that has caused them.
Dimly, you are aware of the edges of the crowd dispersing. Many of them linger, waiting, thirst for violence not quite sated. Brackett waddles forward, gun in hand, aims it at Death’s head. You brace yourself for the crack of powder and skull.
And then, so quickly you all but miss it, the knife is back in his hand, and then it is in Brackett’s jugular, and then the predator is back on his feet. In seconds, a pack of wolves becomes a flock of sheep and he butchers his way through them all, one by one. Their fight is limited, their rage a temporary state of being, their violence unfamiliar.
He is violence incarnate.
Tommy is the last to fall. Michael stabs him in the chest to the hilt, and when he crumbles to the ground, he breaks the bat on his skull and buries the broken shard in his gut. Your scream and the light in Tommy’s eyes die at the same time. Michael surveys the carnage before turning to you.
It is Halloween night, and you are alone.
You look frantically around the backseat. There are no goddamn handles on the doors. There is nothing to grab, nothing to use, no way out. When you look back out the window, he has disappeared. The sound of your breathing is deafening.
The far door opens and you scream again. He is there, and then he is in the car, sliding into the seat beside you. You smash yourself against the door as far away from him as possible. This close, you feel his stare like the point of a knife to your throat. There are no words to describe the power that radiates from him. He is a force of nature distilled into the shape of a man. Your skin tingles, heart pounding. For a long while, he just looks at you.
When his hand reaches towards you, you choke on your breath. When it settles on the bare skin of your knee, a high-pitched whine sneaks out of you. When he slides his hand up your leg, pushing your skirt higher, something inside you clenches.
He grips the inside of your exposed thigh and pulls you towards him, opening your legs. You cannot keep air in your lungs. His fingertips trail up to your groin, leaving streaks of blood on your skin. He touches you through your panties and a moan slips through your teeth. He rubs you firmly and you can feel yourself throbbing.
“M-Michael….”
His fingers hook around the waistband of your underwear and he tugs one side down. You lift your hips to let them slide off easier, your skirt slipping almost all the way up, and he pulls your lacey thong down just to the middle of your thighs, the rolled fabric tight against your skin, keeping you from falling completely open for him. The heel of his hand pushes against your pubis and he slides one rough finger between your lips and across your clit. The sound you make is unholy.
Your head is tossed back against the headrest, hands cuffed and pinned behind your back. He strokes you slowly, insistently, back and forth and then in circles. You are so wet, hips bucking against his palm. You cry out when he pushes a finger into you, then two. He is utterly unhurried, savoring every whimper, the way you squirm in such a tight space. You sneak a look at him and blush at the intensity with which he is watching you through the mask.
He curls his fingers on your sweet spot, rubbing up against your clit with his palm, and you forget where you are and whose fingers are fucking you so methodically and your abdomen clenches mightily before you cum under his hand. Your whole body rocks against the worn leather seat as you bite back a full-throated moan.
Suddenly his hand is gone, and the absence leaves you gasping. Disoriented, you readjust yourself on the bench and look over, afraid he will have disappeared and you’ll be left wondering if he was ever even there.
Oh, but he is still there.
He unzips his coveralls and pulls himself loose from his boxers. He is clearly pleased with your performance. He grabs for your knee again but you are already in motion, clambering across the bench, closing the space, writhing out of your underwear, scrunching your head down away from the low ceiling as you straddle him. His hands, one of them heavily bandaged, are under your skirt and on your ass, pulling you greedily onto his cock.
The way he slides into you is full and perfect. You work your hips desperately, almost frantically, and he digs in his nails, pushes back, forces you to slow down. Your wrists strain against the cuffs. Your forehead presses to his shoulder as the hyperstimulation sends near-painful pulses of ecstasy through your body. You are powerless, completely in his control as he fucks you slowly, thrusting into you and moving you back and forth at the same time.
He brings you to the edge and leads you along it, keeping you right there, and it is blissful and frustrating and he has you panting into his neck by the time he shifts the angle just right and you roll into empty space, sinking your teeth into his shoulder to keep from shouting his name. He grunts softly in your ear as he finishes, his grip on your flesh painful, intentional; you’ll have bruises in the shape of his fingers.
He keeps you in his lap for almost a minute more, long enough for your head to clear, long enough for you to realize your dress, your legs, are smeared with the blood of your neighborhood. They had been ready to kill him.
“I couldn’t let them,” you whisper.
He squeezes your ass one more time before pushing you off of him. He zips the coveralls back up and opens the door. You are suddenly apprehensive as he slides out of the backseat, standing, stretching.
“Michael, wait,” you say, scooting towards the open door, hoping he will not meet you with a knife. “Will you let me…can I get out?”
With one hand braced against the doorframe, he ducks his head back in, regards you for a moment, then reaches towards you. You freeze, but he reaches past you, picks up your underwear, and tucks it into his pocket before slamming the door shut and imprisoning you once again in the back of the squad car.
“Michael!” you yell.
He does not turn.
“Michael Myers!”
He disappears into the night, leaving you to be discovered in your disheveled state by whatever authorities remain.
#my writing#michael myers x reader#michael myers x you#michael myers x y/n#michael myers fanfiction#michael myers fanfic#slasher fucker#slasher smut#peepaw myers#peepaw myers smut#michael myers smut#minors dni
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Michael x Reader
𝔸 𝕡𝕝𝕒𝕔𝕖 𝕥𝕠 𝕝𝕚𝕧𝕖 | 𝕤𝕙𝕠𝕣𝕥 𝕊𝕥𝕠𝕣𝕪
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Y/n was waking up to see Michael Myers standing over her as y/n screams getting startled
“Michael what are you doing here shouldn’t you be umm i don’t know killing teenagers?”
Michael just grunted and laid on top of you and put all his weight on you
“Michael get off your heavy, your crushing me” y/n says as you push him off of you as Michael rolls on the other side of the bed as you say up gasping for air you then look at Michael as he stares back at you with his mask off with a straight off
“That was very rude Michael.” Y/n says as you look at Michael, Michael then sticks his middle finger at you and tackles you on the bed and tickles you as you both laugh before laying next to each other staring at each other.
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