itsabritestorm-fn47

[itsabritestorm-fn47]

The Shape being the bestest

SMUT, Michael Myers X Fem!reader, Breeding kink, p I v, sum cute fluff, Mikey opening up more, sweet Michael, (they both want eachother) SLIGHT hair pulling if you squint, size difference, basically smut and some cute shit. kinda proof read???

After a long day of being at home, missing Michael the entire time, you finally hear the door knob wiggle open. You’d missed him all day. You knew he wasn’t super physically affectionate sometimes, but recently he had been.

You hear him taking his shoes off by the front door, so you wait upstairs in you shared room and lie on the bed. You’re wearing one of his giant white t-shirts, black socks, and a pair of his boxers that were also way too big on you. You hear his weight on the old floor boards as he walks up the stairs, feeling ecstatic to greet him with a giant hug. Michaels hugs were always the best.

He was quite bulky and definitely huge compared to you. He creeps in the doorway, still wearing his mask and coveralls. He silently walks over to you, placing his warm hands on you, cupping your face. He lets out a sigh of relief, any noises he made would make you happy.

He never talked much at all, he could go days without talking. He only talked if he was demanding something or if he really needed your attention. But at most, it would be one or two words. He never minded you talking, knowing that was how you communicated.

He walks closer until he’s inches away from you. He makes you close your eyes by placing his hands over your eyes and gently pulling your lids down. Initially, you were confused by this, he never wanted your eyes off of him. “Michael, what’re you doing?” You ask curiously with a gently smirk. “Shhh” he whispers back. You immediately stay quiet, obeying him.

You hear his coveralls unzip and some rattling of the closet doors. What’s he doing?! You feel confused but you just let whatever’s happening to happen. After this rattling is over, you feel him tap at your shoulder, knowing that he wanted you to open your eyes now. As you flutter your eyes open, you see him in all of his glory. His pretty face, unmasked, his messy curly hair framing his face, and he’s wearing loose grey sweatpants with a wife beater.

You can tell that he’s nervous to be so vulnerable in front of you like this. Not having any of his protection to hide himself. “You’re so handsome.” You say, keeping eye contact with a soft gaze. He smirks gently and leans in to kiss you on your forehead, but he can’t help himself from indulging in a kiss with you. You both could never pass it up. He pulls away from the kiss, and tucks your hair behind your ear, making you blush and smile. You twist his curls around your finger. he’s still trying to understand how you love him even though he is such a bad person.

He picks you up, gently throwing you over his shoulder. You just accept it, because you know it isn’t going to be bad.

He takes you to his room where he works on his masks and lets you sit down on his lap as he works on them. He put down whatever tool that he was working with, to see that you fell asleep on his lap, your head resting in then crook of his neck, and your arms wrapped around his neck.

He pets your hair and hums to you as he slowly gets up in his best attempt to not wake you. When you wake up, you’re in the same position that you fell asleep in, on his lap, just now on your guys couch. You grunt as you stretch your arms out.

Michael pulls you back, gently holding a fistful of your hair, he looks at your deep in your eyes, sending chills down your spine, also making you blush. “I am yours, and you are mine.” you say, nuzzling up to him. Michael points to himself and tilts his head to the left, his soft gaze locked on you. “That’s right.” You spoke, kissing him on the cheek. “Y’know I love you Mikey?” You look at him with your puppy eyes, realizing that this is the most communicative he’s ever been with you. You hear him grunt a bit, not knowing if you pushed him too much. He nods and kisses your forehead.

You just hug him back since you’re so proud of him. He brings his lips down to you and presses kisses into your neck.

He knows that you love when he talks, he doesn’t know why, but he feels compelled to do it today.

When you first met Michael, he would never speak a word, but since you’ve known him for years now, he’s just now starting to try to form words. You know not to push him though.

He presses his lips against yours to continue the kiss. He isn’t the best at kissing, but he really does try, he loves how it feels when your soft lips touch his. You didn’t expect him to kiss you as hard as he was right now. You moan into the kiss, noticing his growing bulge beneath you.

“Mmm,” you mew into his ear. “Can feel you getting hard for me.” You continue. He lets out an almost silent “mhm”.

You lightly grind into his growing erection, hearing all the quiet whimpers he’s making. You make eye contact with each other, knowing that you both want it.

You crawl off of his lap and get down on your knees as he manspreads for you on the edge of the couch. You look up at him, eyebrows turnt upwards. He nods, letting you know that you can do what you want. You look down to see his length and girth through his grey sweatpants. (He’s 8’ long and 3 1/2’ wide) You gently tug on his waistband, slipping your fingers on the inside. You get ahold both the waistband of his sweats and boxers. As you pull down, you watch as his cock aggressively springs out of his boxers, twitching and leaking pre-cum. You gently grab his full balls out of his boxers, revealing everything.

You looked up at him and could tell that he was a little embarrassed, even though you two had done this before. You shake it off as you take your small hand and slowly pump his cock. You watch his face as he goes down and reaches for your hair. He grabs ahold of your locks and basically uses you as his personal fleshlight.

Obscene noises come out of him as you gag on his cock. You make the most lewd noises as you take him down your throat.

He slowly lets you get up from having his dick all the way in the back of your throat. He pats his lap, inviting you to sit on him. You slide off your his pre-soaked boxers and toss them aside. You crawl back onto his lap and line yourself up with his throbbing tip, already wet from your saliva.

“Ready for me?” You ask, your slick practicality dripping onto his cock at this point. He nods and places his hands firmly onto your hips, forcing you to take his girth and length in his one push.

You scream and moan but he doesn’t budge. He hums in your ear, kissing your neck while he lets you get adjusted to his size. You place your small hands on his wide shoulders and slowly rise up from his length. He grunts as he feels your slick going down his cock, dripping onto his balls.

He throws his neck back, showing you how vulnerable he allows himself to be around you. He grunts and says your name so quietly that it’s basically him mouthing it.

“Michael-,” your whimpers are cut off by him smashing his lips against yours. Both of you are moaning into each others mouths at this point.

Michael notices that your legs are starting to give out and shake, so he signals you to wrap them around him and he doesn’t have to ask you twice. Once you’re wrapped around him, he thrusts into you at an inhuman pace, bruising your cervix.

“Mikey,” you rush out. “M’ close!” Your words slur from the pure pleasure you’re getting from him.

He looks at you, staring deep into your eyes. His mouth open ever-so slightly, showing the slightest bit of emotion. Times like these make you remember how much he trusts you for him to be this vulnerable around you.

He nods his head, letting you know that he isn’t far behind you.

The room is filled with moans from you and Michael. You, screaming his name and whining as you cum all over his length. Him, grunting loudly with his raspy low voice. He shoots his hot thick cum into your cunt, filling you up as much as he physically can. He always loved the thought of breeding you.

He holds you while you’re still in his lap, his open hand goes to hold your head as you rest it against his collarbone. His other hand, already on the small of your back. He pets your hair gently as both of you bring your breathing back to its normal pace. He lifts you high enough to be able to slip his cock out of you and put it back into his sweats that are now stained because of you.

After you two come down from the adrenaline, he just lays there and holds you. He knows how tired you get after he fucks you like that. He used to just rail you and then walk out. That was when he wouldn’t take his mask off, wear anything different than his coveralls, or communicate. It took him years to be able to do any of that. But, now, he’s holding you as you fall asleep on him as you both lay down on your bed.

He carried you all the way from the couch to the bed because you couldn’t walk and he knew he needed to take care of his girl.

He presses gentle kisses onto your head every couple minutes, and eventually you stopped reacting to them. Now, knowing that you’re asleep, Michael gives you one more kiss and whispers, “I love you.” Just before falling asleep to the sound of your breathing.

[itsabritestorm-fn47]

Every Breath You Take

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

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

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

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

Word count: 6.4k

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

Consider buying me a coffee :)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You just couldn't figure it out.

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

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

But things changed one evening.

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

He was injured.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Sit on the couch."

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

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

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

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

"What's hurt?"

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

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

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

Why were you still asking questions?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And he did.

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

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

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

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

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

That set your nerves alight.

So you turned your nights into a staring contest.

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

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

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

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

He was tempted.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Oh."

He was hard.

"Oh."

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

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

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

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

"Michael..."

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

But he had other ideas.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

How could something so simple feel so good?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Oh."

He was hard.

Very hard.

"You want me to-"

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

He was smothering.

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

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

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

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

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

Unlikely.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Great, another one ruined.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Maybe he really was clueless.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But it was worth it for this.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[itsabritestorm-fn47]

Angemon from digimon in D4? Please? 🥺

everytime I draw Angemon it goes wrong lol

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He showed his knife

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@peachym000 and i made a silly goof on stream while back ago and gamergirl Michael Myers (DBD) was responsible for the love attack i recieved on the bird app- so of course i'll share here too.

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Could I request some 2007 + 1978 más Michael's please? I love them both so much(also your Brahms stuff is hella fine👌👀)

hi, thank youu so much for liking my stuff! 🧡

I know you asked for both OG and RZ Michael, but I just finished this and I had so many feels while drawing after a convo with my dear @slasherholic about Michael and freedom and peace and hhhhh soft I am

thank you so much for your request and your kind words!

[1978 Autumn] [2007 Spring]

[itsabritestorm-fn47]

Heyo! I hope you don't mind me jumping aboard the requests train here, I just couldn't help myself, your art has captured my heart and soul. I'd absolutely LOVE to see your take on maskless Michael, (any version of him that you'd prefer!) perhaps looking very disheveled and sleepy? This boy is 100% running on twelve minutes of sleep akdfakfskj

IT’S A HONOR TO HAVE A REQUEST FROM YOU

AND I COULDN’T CHOOSE WHO TO DRAW FOR YOU

SO I DREW ALL OF THEM

cause in The Act of Being I’m writing for 2018 Michael, old man Myers gets a coffee I’m a biased lil shit djskfkds

it took me the whole day but I’m very happy with the results and I hope you like them too!!! thank you for being such an angel and blessing us with amazing writings and also supporting me so much < 333

thank you for your request!!!!

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Mikey’s face

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Mask off.

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tired

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Hiiii!! I hope you have a great Halloween🎃🎃!! I still have to have the chance to celebrate it here but in spirit I am partying :3c!! Going to rewatch Halloween later and maybe even play a bit dbd in hopes to see a Mookle :D!! Hope you get lots of sweets and treats 🥰🫶🫶

heyyyy :DDD keeping the spirit alive despite everything WOOO 🎃🎃🎃if you play dbd I manifest many fun tombstone myers for you ♥♥♥♥

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happy michael day to all who celebrate!

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experimental animation of mikey

pov hes on top of you & you’re making his heart race

this was fun & now I’ve got ideas for other things I can animate 👁👄👁

[itsabritestorm-fn47]

experimental animation of mikey

pov hes on top of you & you’re making his heart race

this was fun & now I’ve got ideas for other things I can animate 👁👄👁

[itsabritestorm-fn47]

🔞 Halloween Smutfic and Doodle: Michael Myers x Reader Part 2 🔞

WARNINGS/TAGS: Dark fic, rape/noncon elements, extremely dubious consent, explicit content, heavy NSFW, Michael has a Big Dick, restraints, dry humping, dacryphilia, breastplay, rough sex, unprotected sex, forced orgasm, overstimulation, tummy bulge, creampie, squirting, size difference.

⚠️ READ THE TAGS: Please be aware this work contains content that the reader may feel uncomfortable with or otherwise triggered by. DO NOT READ if bothered by tags (especially if you're a minor). ⚠️

Note: Sorry for the delay, guys. Life's been busy but here ya go. Imagine whichever version of Michael in this story.

The blindfold was tugged upward, your red-rimmed eyes glassy and wide as you tried to make sense of your surroundings. Your vision was fuzzy for a moment, barely making out the broad male above you in the dark. You let out a gasp, squinting your eyes as you tried to make sense at who you were looking at.

"W-who are you?"

Rather than answer you, Michael laid his hands below your chest, keeping you in place as he pulled his hips back. With his freed erection out of his suit, he could finally feel your bare skin against his. Your spread legs quivered under his grip, the heat emitting from between your thighs driving him insane. His cock throbbed angrily, the feeling so foreign to him that he didn't know how to proceed at first. All he knew was that the feeling alleviated slightly when he rubbed against you. The underside of his cock was soon soaked with your slick, your arousal coating him and making him slide easier against your slit.

The movement caught you off guard, a hitch in your throat when you felt him, hard and thick, slide across your sensitive vulva. Shutting your eyes at the pleasurable feeling, you let him rock against you, stimulating your clit with every graze of his cock. You grit your teeth and turned your flushed face away, refusing to give in even as your nipples perked up with interest at his actions.

This was so wrong. You shouldn't want this...yet it felt so good. Your clit pulsed with every brush of his cock, your cunt clenching around nothing as it desired something to fill it. Tears built up in the corner of your eyes, your mind at war with your body over the pleasurable sensations running through you.

When he pressed the blunt tip of his cock against your entrance, you gasped turning your gaze to the apex of your thighs. Nothing could have prepared you for the sheer size the male sported. "W-wait wait wait wait!" You raised your hips, panic flooding you as you began to thrash again. It didn't matter how wet you were, he was not going to fit. "No!"

Your protests made Michael narrow his eyes, making him reach behind his back for his butcher knife. When you caught sight of it, your blood ran cold, your body stilling in fear.

The knife's edge slithered up your body, threatening to break skin if you so much as moved. You could only stare at him petrified. He stopped at your throat, the sharp edge of the blade pressing hard enough that you felt a drop of blood trail down to the nape of your neck. All he had to do was plunge it into your jugular and you would be no more. "Please, no... I'm sorry."

You couldn't stop the tears streaming down your face even if you wanted to. You weren't above begging at this point. You had no desire to die.

~

'I'm scared," your trembling frame more than proved it to him, "You're bigger than me. We can't do this, please. You're going to hurt me."

Michael tilted his head, your words giving him pause. He perused your body, taking note of how tiny you were compared to him. You were a small thing, easy to manhandle and subdue. There was no doubt that penetrating you was going to be a challenge.

But his curiosity had to be sated.

A shriek left you when he stabbed his knife on the bedding next to your head. He left it there as a reminder for you to behave and remain submissive for him. Opening the gap of his suit wider, he rolled up his undershirt to reveal the hardened muscles of his stomach. He hardly took notice of your shocked reaction, hands shaking in anticipation as he focused on your glistening slit.

Laying your legs over his hips, Michael reached down to grip himself, his organ twitching underneath his calloused palm. Lining himself to your entrance, Michael brought his hips forward to begin entering you.

Your body resisted the broad tip, his girth too much for your hole to allow it passage inside. "It's not going to fit." Sweat coated your body, your heart beating fast when he still pressed on. "Listen to me please, it's not-!"

A garbled noise left you when the head of his cock popped inside you, Michael not missing a beat as he shoved his shaft deeper into you. Your entrance pulled taut around him, the sheer circumference of him making you pale when he continued ignoring your pleads.

''You're going to tear me in two! Go slowly, please!" Your begging was for naught, Michael forcing your tiny pussy to stretch around his immense girth. He fed more of himself into your tight walls, ignoring your keening cries as he fisted the bedding above your head, knuckles white at the feeling of you clamping down on him. A pained grunt left him, eyes narrowing when he saw that you hadn't even taken half of him. You're body was wound too tightly, the tenseness of your frame making it harder for him to continue.

Michael took a glance at your face, noting the distressed way you crunched up your face and the hiccupping cries leaving your trembling lips. When your teary eyes met his, supplication clear in your gaze, Michael felt something in him snap.

Wrapping his arms around you, he held on tight to your shoulders. Confusion decorated your face when he buried his face into your neck. Just as you opened your mouth to question him, he snapped his hips forward. Your eyes went impossibly wide, a shrill scream leaving you as he tore through you.

~

The pain.

It was excruciating.

You shook your head at the icy pain, legs flailing on either side of him as you wailed horribly beneath him. "Take it out! Take it out!"

Fucking God, it hurt so much.

Heart-wrenching sobs left you, unable to focus on anything else but the burning strain of taking him. Daring to take a glance down, you choked on your saliva when you saw the raised bump on your tummy. It stopped just below your belly button, the shape of his cock creating an indecent bulge in your lower abdomen.

Your eyes lit with horror, afraid that he had torn you in two. When he shifted his weight, you let out a pained cry at the movement.

"Please, p-pull it out," you begged one last time, "You're going to kill me."

As you lay there, body in absolute agony, Michael was burning inside to hold himself back.

~

If there was such a thing as heaven, Michael finally knew it, buried balls deep inside you.

A shudder left him, his whole body shivering as he clenched his teeth at the feeling of your pulsating walls strangling him. When he tried to pull away, your insides held on tight, the vice-like grip on his cock nearly making him collapse.

Michael was apathetic to your sobs, too drunk off the tightness of your pussy. He'd never experienced anything like this. It felt like you were sucking him in, your gummy walls massaging his girth firmly and hotly.

Michael lowered his head to focus on where you were joined.

It was certainly a tight fit. His cock was completely inside you, your lips stretched taut around his shaft. He could even see where he filled you to bursting, the swell in your lower stomach startling him slightly. The sight made a hot rush of pleasure run through him. His cock twitched, your inner muscles squeezing him in response. Giving you time to adjust to him, he set about exploring your naked body in the meantime.

Lifting off you, Michael's hands traveled to your ribcage. His eyes locked on to your bountiful chest, the heaving mounds quivering enticingly beneath him. Michael squeezed your ample chest, his fingers digging into the pliant flesh eliciting a groan from you. He fondled them quite roughly seemingly drunk on how easily your flesh yielded to his grip. When he felt the hard peak of your nipples underneath his palm, his mouth went dry. Licking his lips, Michael pinched your nipples, pulling and rubbing them harshly. It elicited tiny gasps from you, your voice causing his heart to race in his chest. Bending his body forward, he let his warm breath tease one of your naked breast before engulfing your nipple into his hungry mouth.

The heat of his mouth was almost scorching. Michael suckled hard, his tongue swirling around your nipple as he tugged on the other with his hand. When he bit the hardened nub, he was surprised to hear you moan. It seemed that you enjoyed having your breasts played with, a red flush on your face as you looked at him abusing the little nub in his mouth. He was inadvertently distracting you from the pain between your legs.

Not taking his eyes off you, Michael pressed both of your breasts together making your nipples nearly touch each other. Opening his mouth wide, he licked them in one broad stripe before teasing the area around them with the tip of his tongue. Your chest was heaving heavily at this point, your clit pulsing with every touch on your nipples. After awhile of his curious lapping, he took both of your peaks inside his mouth and sucked harshly. Hearing your moan of delight pleased him, the sound traveling to his throbbing cock trapped inside you. He felt your body jolt in reaction, your walls soaking him with your juices as you tilted your chest up to offer more of yourself.

Unable to resist, he removed his mouth from your wet nipples, pulling away with a pop before choosing to bite the underside of your boob. It was fascinating to him how soft you were, how easily he could tear you with his teeth if he wanted to. He was almost tempted, if only to hear your anguished cries, but he found he enjoyed the kittenish responses he coaxed out of you more. He littered hickeys all over your chest, something inside him calling him to mark you possessively.

When he felt your hips grind hesitantly on his, Michael took it as cue that you were ready.

What remained of your dress was collared around your waist, Michael bunching the material in his hands as he straightened his back and braced his knees on the bedding. He used it as leverage, slowly pulling away from your pussy until only the tip was inside you. It was an anticipatory moment, his cock twitching with excitement at the prospect of impaling you again. Just remembering the feel of your sweet pussy was doing things to him. You had barely taken a breath when he slammed violently into your pussy, a resounding smack echoing in the room.

You cried out at his roughness, your body still not fully used to his size. "Slow! Please!"

Your words went over his head, Michael's mind engrossed on the delicious heat of your pussy as he tugged you back to his cock. He was hypnotized by the swell on your stomach when he pushed his member inside, his balls drawing tight as a tingling sensation spread to his spine. His body moved of its own accord, cock pulling away with strands of your slick before pumping back inside you. The pupils of his eyes widened, the lust overtaking him as he set a quick pace. You felt too damn good and it felt even better when he went faster. A feral growl left him, the beginnings of a blush starting on his cheeks. He was eventually covered in sweat from the energy he was exerting, but his limbs were far from tired.

~

The violent clashing of your hips nearly drowned out your cries. It felt like Michael's pelvis was trying to crush yours, your skin rippling with every solid thrust.

"Stop! AH! You're gonna-!" You're eyes crossed when the hairs of his groin tickled your nub, the stimulation making you wetter as you began to accommodate to his size. The size of his cock was hitting every sensitive spot inside you, driving your pleasure to a crescendo as you let out breathless moans.

It became hard to focus before long. With your body bobbing up and down haphazardly, you could only catch glimpses of him wrecking you. A fierce, almost angry expression crossed his face, gritting his teeth as the muscles of his body were tense and hard above you. It scared you, but it it excited your pussy. The sight of a big, dangerous male using you for his pleasure, reaching so deep inside you that you could almost feel him at your throat. At the mercy of someone primal was heightening your pleasure, body enamored with the bruising touches of a sinister male.

Oh, you were so fucked in the head.

Mere minutes passed before he succeeded in making you cum. It took a few hard bumps against your womb to make you reach your peak. Your back arched when you came, your eyes squeezing shut as you let out a scream. Your muscles contracted around him, clenching and clamping down hungrily as you soaked him with your release.

A low whine left you, the endorphins caused by your orgasm turning you putty below him. You felt so weightless and sated. You had never climaxed so quickly in your entire life and you were basking in the afterglow. You were about to drift off to sleep when you realized your body was still rocking erratically.

Oh, no.

He wasn't slowing down.

Noises you never thought yourself capable of left your lips, your walls strangling his shaft and sucking him in deeper with each penetration. You were far too sensitive, your raw insides protesting the friction as you tried to buck off him.

"No, no! Not anymore, I-I can't-!!"

He was a man possessed, not giving you any reprieve or slowing down his pace. You didn't know that when your walls contracted around him, he almost came. The way your pussy ate his rigid cock and drenched it nearly his undoing.

Then something happened that took you both by surprise. Jets of your slick spurted out of you, smearing a wet mess on your pelvises. Michael stopped his motions, titling his head at the liquid coating his abs and drenching his suit. You're whole body went red, mouth opening and closing in embarrassment at what your body just did.

You had just squirted.

Before you could try to curl in on yourself, he grabbed your waist hard enough to bruise and immediately set up the same relentless pace. Your body rippled once more with every thrust, your breasts bouncing lewdly as you cried out. The motion caused your body to slide up the bed before being pulled back harshly to meet his hips. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, feeling him battering your cervix with every thrust.

"S-sto-Ah!-p! You're going to-!" The veins along his cock rubbed something inside you, making you see white for a second. It drove you to clamp down harder on him and release another desperate scream.

~

Michael's ears picked up on it quickly, immediately setting out to find the same spot as he adjusted his angle.

Breathless cries and his growls were accompanied by the continuous slamming of the headboard on the wall. The bed shook horribly, the old wood creaking in protest as Michael took you in an animalistic fashion. Your back arched as you let out a final cry, limps quaking as he pulled another powerful orgasm out of you.

The pulses were getting stronger, driving Michael mad as he fucked you through your orgasm. He could feel the build up welling inside him, ready to burst with every push inside you. His hips were a blur as he increased the tempo, forcing a scream form you at his vicious pace. He thrust once, twice, before exploding inside you, tainting you with rope after rope of his hot cum. He bit his lip hard enough to bleed, shoving so deeply inside you that he threatened to penetrate your womb with his cock.

When the last of his spend jetted out of him, Michael nearly collapsed on top you, bringing his elbows forward to prevent himself from crushing you. He had to take a couple of deep breaths to get his bearings before shoving off of you. His cock dragged along your walls with the motion, your pussy clinging to him as he removed himself.

With his member lying limp, Michael took the chance to look at you. Your body was a shuddering mess, spasms running through you every few seconds. Your inner thighs were a mess of fluids, your slit puffy and shiny as your pussy dribbled out a mix of your cum and his.

As you lay there dazed and pussy full of cum, he swore you were his.

~

Your body twitched with every gasping breath you took.

Your head was high off the orgasms you've just experienced, body an oversensitive mess on the bed. Your slick channel clenched around nothing as cum trailed out of your raw insides.

He came inside...me...

So much cum inside...

You didn't have time to ponder the consequences when your eyelashes began to flutter. Shutting your eyes in exhaustion, you barely felt the binds on your wrists loosening, your hands falling limply beside you.

The last thing you remember before sleep took you was a hand scooping up the cum between your legs and pressing it back inside you.

(Yaaa, so... I want to get rawed by Michael 👉👈

For those curious of the art that accompanies this...well, you can check out my Twitter or AO3 account)

[itsabritestorm-fn47]

Can you please do another for OG Michael Myers? I loved your first one, the fluff slayed me! Maybe reader works at Smith's Grove and takes an interest in Michael, what that would be like, etc.? Anyway, whatever you want!

Being Michael Myers' Psychiatrist Would Be Like This:

A/N: Glad you enjoyed the last one. I'll be doing some for the older Michael Myers at some point soon too 🙃

🔪• Michael's been locked up for basically fifteen years, so he's pretty familiar with how things work and has his own way of dealing with things. You were probably referred to Michael Myers after her scared away most of his old therapists, and since you're a similar age, Loomis thought that maybe you'd get more out of him than the others do.

🔪• He probably won't respond to anything you do or say while Loomis is around, looking in warily at the window. But if you're patient and gentle by the way you talk about things, as if you're just talking to a friend rather than stepping on eggshells with a crazy, psychotic killer, you'll see little changes over time.

🔪• He's used to the routine of you coming in to chat with him, even when he doesn't say a word. Michael does hear and listens to every word you say, even when you can't tell. And you usually can, because his dark, intense gaze follows you everywhere, silently observant. He's a big starer, so whether he sees you near the office spaces when he's taken outside or back to his cell, or giving another person therapy, you'll always get a strong glance before he moves on slowly.

🔪• Michael doesn't really know what draws him to you; maybe it's because you're just too frustratingly nice and understanding to him and everyone, the first person not to have looked at him like he was a monster. Maybe you're just different. The reason doesn't matter much to him once he decides that you're interesting, and confusingly pleasant to be around.

🔪• He likes any time you spend with him. Michael isn't friendly to anyone at Smith's Grove, and most of them are loud and crazed and obnoxious. It's nice when you're simply talking to him about your day, or reading a book in silence, while he stares curiously. It takes a bit of getting used to, him basically watching you for what could be hours, but it's not aggressive or predatory. He's just there, existing with you.

🔪• It's odd for someone in a place like that to be interested in him for reasons other than checking if he's really as horrifying as Loomis thinks, and then frowning because, well, he looks pretty normal? Michael feels a lot more exposed without a mask, and he doesn't have it on most of the time while he's in the asylum. He hates being vulnerable with anyone - even you at first until he gradually starts relaxing and trusting you.

🔪• I don't mean he's gonna start talking and opening up. Michael stays selectively mute all through your therapy sessions, but you've sort of learned how to read his eyes and expressions. He's often stoic, unfeeling, and indifferent, but every so often, when certain people or things are mentioned, there's a flicker of emotion that rips through the dark glare before it's pushed back down again. Or when you're not feeling a hundred percent one day when you're supposed to be having a session, you'll see Michael frown ever so slightly, his eyes scanning your face in search of injury, then your own stare to try to read what's wrong with you.

🔪• He's very protective, and it's one of the main ways he shows he cares. Any other insane prisoner that's been overwhelming you have mysteriously gone quiet or died in their sleep. Michael doesn't admit or deny doing it when you ask him, but if you look closely enough, you can see the vague amusement in his eyes when you cover your face with your hands in exasperation.

🔪• Myers still plans on escaping when he gets the chance, and you'll either be in the car that he gets in to drive off with, or he'll start showing up wherever you are at home in his stalker way. And him as a boyfriend... I've sort of covered most of that in my main dating headcanon. He's quite a bit more calmer than he was while in Smith Grove, now he has his freedom and free reign of his strength. He's not as hesitant to show affection when it's just you and him at home too, instead of trying to comfort each other awkwardly in a prison cell without guards snooping.

🔪• At the end of the day, you probably know more about Michael Myers than anyone does, and he'll most likely understand you more than you understand yourself. It works perfectly for him, and he wouldn't change the way things are. He's never really been comfortable with people before, so with you there to ease him through a warped kind of love, it settles the dark, clawing urges in his head, giving him a lot more clearness than he had before. And you've got a protector for life.