#peepaw myers

[osirisisv]

Here.

What you always wanted. 🍬💕

Michael is too shy to kiss you yet, he hopes this is enough <3

HAPPY VALENTINES DAY!!

From our beloved boy mickey 🥰❤️💕

[spidergutz-writes]

Time to get slutty, bestie..

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

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

YOUR FR BLESSING ME WITH IDEAS 😩😩😩

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[spookychick78]

Wanna Be Yours

Peepaw Myers X GN!Reader

Word Count: 6,558

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Who are you?" You whispered.

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

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

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

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

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

"Michael," you whispered up at him.

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

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

"Why are you here?"

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

"Are you going to kill me?"

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

"Wait," you demanded.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Mine," he growled, low and harshly.

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

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

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

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

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

"Say it," he repeated with malice.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[avocadoraisin]

the sequel bros taste alcohol for the first time in their lives

then they ordered pina coladas instead

[likopinina]

when you wanna chill (get reclaimed by mold) in the retirement home (sewer) but ppl just won't leave you alone

[konigsmissedbeltloop]

i love og mikey, i love rz mikey, i love peepaw mikey live laugh love mr myers like omg <333

[melanincholysworld]

Got bored last night and made some memes

[slasherhoe87]

Morning darling🥺

I hope you're doing well honey, if you don't mind could you please do a short fic of Michael Myers where the reader comforts him and makes him feel like he's someone who's deserving of love and appreciation, that man needs love so bad😩

Thank you :3 xx

Sad Michael Gets the Love and Assurance He Deserves

Peepaw Myers

Fluff / Angst

Soft Michael

You watched helplessly from the doorway as Michael stood motionless, staring off into the distance in front of his old bedroom's window of the Myers house.

You looked at his knife, tossed haphazardly onto the nightstand beside the bed. Never before would his beloved knives be so carelessy thrown about.

But Michael had been "off" for days now. You weren't sure what had pulled him into this melancholic frame of mind.

To anyone else, they would see no difference in his regular 'emotionless', stoic demeanor. But you have been with Michael long enough to that he was anything but emotionless. The man had a well of emotions so deep one would be hypnotized and fall down into its inky abyss if they had but to peek inside. And something was wrong. Very, very wrong.

He ate less than usual. His bags of beloved candy remained sealed and untouched. He withdrew into himself and away from your touch - which hurt, but you wanted to give him his space to work through whatever he was going through. But most concerning of all, he had not gone out hunting all week. This is not Michael. This is not your Michael.

"Michael?" You call softly from the doorway.

Michael ever so slightly tilted his masked head in your direction, aknowledging your presence.

You stepped into his childhood bedroom and tentatively stepped towards the rickety, old single bed and sat down.

Michael continued to stare out of the window, into the night sky, not aknwowledging your presence any longer.

You stared out into the clear, moonlit sky for a moment collecting your thoughts. You took in a deep breath and began.

"Michael, baby, please tell me what's troubling you? You have not been yourself for a while now. Please talk to me"

You waited and made yourself a little more comfortable on the edge of the bed, knowing you would be in for a wait for an answer... if he decided to answer you at all.

Two minutes passed, then five, then ten. The room was filled with nothing but silence. Sighing, you decide to get up and leave Michael be but he stops you with his voice.

"Don't go" two single words left his lips. They were rough, shaky, soft. Spoken by a voice that was often unused.

Since the two of you started a relationship Michael had been speaking more. You would never be having a full blown conversation with the man, but he'll give you short sentences or a word here and there for your own benefit of understanding him.

You look up at the tall man before you, moonlight casting a sinister glow on his weathered old mask.

He takes a few slow strides towards you and sits stiffly down next you on the bed. It creaks, groans and sinks in at his weight. He sits ruler straight, as always.

You place your hand on his thigh and rub small circles on it with your thumb.

"Tell me what's wrong Michael. I can't help you if you don't let me in"

Silence falls between the two of you again for a short while before you finally hear the soft, raspy words you've been waiting to hear for a while now.

"Failure. Old and useless. Didn't get them"

"What? Michael what are you talking about?"

You scrunch your brows together and try to decipher what he meant when it hit you all at once. You remember now... that night Michael came home which was the last time he hunted, he had come home with intact and relatively clean overalls and no blood on his knife.

Oh. Oh.

"Michael. Are.. you feeling like a failure because you didn't manage to kill your potential victims last time?"

Michael never let anyone get away from him. Ever. Except for Laurie but that was a whole other fucking shitstorm. At his age, and him not being successful in his kills... yes. You could easily see how hard a predator like Michael would take such fails. His very life, being and existence was defined by him being a serial killer.

You scoot over towards him and climb into his lap. He brings his arms around your frame and holds on - tight.

You wait and wait for confirmation to your question and eventually lay your head against his shoulder and close your eyes.

"Yes" is the soft, raspy reply you finally receive.

"You are not a failure Michael. So you had an off night.. everyone has off days when things just don't go their way" you tell him, eyes still closed, comy in his protective embrace.

"Not. me."

With a soft huff you reposition yourself to straddle his lap and face him. "I'm going to take your mask off, ok?" You begin to slowly peel it off him but still for a moment in case of protest. Upon receiving none you lift the old mask up and off Michael's head and toss it onto the bed.

You smile at seeing his weathered and handsome face. Grey stubble, a lovely grey eye and grey curls which he had decided to grow out like in his youth - the only difference compared to his youth was the thinning of his hair on the top. But nothing detracted from his beauty. Not his textured skin, not his scars, not his thinning hair.

You cup his face and he raises his melancholic gaze at you.

"Yes. You. You're only human Michael - ok that's a tad debatable but my statement still stands. There is a first time for everything Michael.. and this was your first time. It might happen again or it might very well not. Please don't beat yourself up about it"

You begin to give him little kisses all over his face while reassuring him. "It was an off day for you Michael, nothing more nothing less. From here you emphasized all your praises with a kiss on the lips.

"You are capable. Intelligent. Strong. Determined. Have an indomitable will. Patient. Handsome. Resourceful. Deadly. Sexy" you giggle and beam when you notice a soft hint of a smile at the corners of Michael's mouth. You continue. "A good listener. Fast learner. Great with your hands. An exceptional lover" at this, Michael squeezes your hips.

You're not left to wonder if Michael had taken to heart any of what you said when he leaned in for a comforting, chaste kiss on your lips, his hands firm on your hips. The kiss deepens and Michael swipes his tongue on your bottom lip, asking for entrance. You oblige and the kiss growe fervent and needy. Your hands fist into his soft curls and the both of you sigh when the kiss ends.

You stare into his good eye and smile, panting and happy. "Do you feel better Mikey?"

Michael stares at you for a long moment before giving you a small nod. He reaches for his mask once more and places it over his head.

"Good. Your favourite dessert is sitting in the kitchen."

At hearing this, Micahel unceremoniously dumps you onto the bed, swiftly stands and walks briskly out the door.

"My pleasure? I guess?" You shake your head and smile before following after him.

@megangovier20

Hope this is to your liking.

I know you asked for a short fic but you should know by now short an I do not exist in the same universe.

[kazarka]

Just having fun with old Michael

Two my drawings and two versions - with and without reference:

...he's not very happy about it. Don't worry, I'll give him sweets.

Original expression meme by capochiino :

[brandnewhuman]

I had another cursed thought: so you know my last request about putting your face on the slasher’s badonkadonks? What about that… but in reverse…….. like now the slasher has THIER face in the readers chest? 👀👀👀👀 *sweats in I need to go to church*

SLASHERS FACEPLANTING

IN YOUR CHEST

☆STARRING☆

Brahms Heelshire ☆ aka horny wall gremlin

Michael Myers☆ aka THE bastard

Bo Sinclair ☆ aka greasy horny boy

CONTENT:

Tw: canon violence, NSFW, mature language, Michael, mentions of voyeurism, smut (?) Idk man I DON'T EVEN KNOW HOW TO WRITE SMUT IN ENGLISH

A/N: every single one of have been making me fight for my spot in heaven lately. You're turning me into a whore with all these SINFUL REQUEST. but I love it and I'll do it anyways, but keep in mind that i do not have a single clue on how to write smut and this is going to be just messy and cringy probably so DON'T COME AT ME IF THE SMUT PARTS END UP SUCKING ASS . I'll compensate later with some good ol soul crushing angst👹

___________________________________________________

BRAHMS HEELSHIRE:

I mean, are we really that surprised? No I think not

He was being uncharacteristically nice that day

Helping you out with chores and keeping the tantrums at their minimum if not even having them at all. 

Little did you know that all those long stares at you meant only one thing

Y/n you couldn't really blame him, you were being just downright cruel to him lately 

Admittedly you have been to busy lately so cuddles and other…activities with brahms had been rare these days

You were surprise he hasn't give you a headache about not getting enough attention 

Oh pretty y/n, he is a long game kind of guy. You don't even know what the FUCK IS COMING FOR YOU

He planned everything; he took a bath, he shaved ecc.. long story short he was doing really great and you didn't have to tell him twice to do something you needed him to do

You should've known that all that kindness came with a price

"Pretty y/n, can I hug you??? I deserve it, don't i? I've been really good to you" 

The way he said it, how he brushed his fingertips up and down the skin of your arms, his real voice raspy but still gentle and how he looked at you made it really hard to think straight. 

What harm could a hug do right? 

WRONG. YOU SHOULD STOP TAKING DECISIONS WHEN YOU'RE HAVING THE HOTS FOR YOUR MANWHORE BOYFRIEND 

he slowly wrapped his arms around your waist, holding you tight to his chest but still being careful to not hurt you

His scent was so intoxicating and he was so warm that while you reciprocated the hug you didn't noticed how he was slowly lifting you

You just thought he was trying to hold you closer but then you watched him taking off his masks

"Brahms are you okay?? What are yo- "

THE DISRESPECT. THE AUDACITY. 

his beard free soft face was now hiding in your chest, his head shaking no to snuggle even more in you

You were at loss for words. Your face was going through all the 5 stages of grief in one second 

"I'm sorry pretty y/n…you've been so busy lately, I've missed you" he said with his whiney natural tone of voice 

No he was not sorry. He was living the moment of his life and if it wasn't for the deep chuckle rumbling deep inside his chest you would've almost believe all that play dumb fuckery

You mentally cursed yourself for not seeing this coming. You felt you could drop dead from the embarrassment right there

His hands started to slip under your shirt while he placed his chin on top of your chest to look up at you

"You're not mad are you darling? I know that you've missed it too.." his voice was now like honey melting right inside your ears making your skin prickle up while feeling your cheeks and inside of your pants getting warm

He kept  lightly tracing the skin under your shirt and caressing every inch of it with his long and surprisingly soft fingers. 

safe to say that he has put at use all those peepholes on the walls of your room, so believe him when he says he knows. 

I'M GOING FERAL OVER MY OWN HORNY SHIT I-

He felt you trembling and grinned at you mischievously 

He hasn't even touched you as much as he wanted and you were already getting so worked up. 

He placed you on the bed, then proceeded to cage you under his frame. Placing one hand at each side of your head and watching you directly into your eyes

His knee was brushing between your legs and you felt everything down there twitch slightly at his every single movement 

"Maybe I should stop pretty y/n?" That shit with the fact that he was literally breathing the words against your neck while brushing the tip of his nose right on your most sensitive spot was too much

YOU BOTH ENDED UP MAKING UP FOR ALL THE BUSY DAYS. 

so much that both you and brahms almost slept a whole day after that. You freaky bastards 

Now the problem is that brahms knows too much on how to get you all horny:

Knows that plating his face like that on your chest is going to get you feral

That spending so many days without touching each other ends up being worthy 

And that if he's horny you're even worse 

MICHAEL MYERS;

Weirdly enough the whole thing happen by accident 

One night he came back from his usual night routine of killing looking really down 

You woke up as soon as you heard his heavy footsteps approaching your room. 

You couldn't wait to snuggle against him in bed so you can finally fall asleep more easily

Your smile dropped as soon as you saw his gloomy mood

It was surprising seeing Michael so upset after killing. Normally he always feels better after snatching the life out of someone

He just sitted on the edge of the bed, looking at his hands fidgeting with his knife. 

You were getting worried because he rarely acted like this and you knew that something serious would happen if he was in this state. 

You got up and stood in front of him

"Do you want to talk about it??" You couldn't even say another word that he was already pulling you in for a hug.

You would never say no cause these occasions where Michael gets clingy are rare. You just stood there, hugging his masked head close to your chest. 

He slowly took off the mask and just hid his face in your chest. 

You could feel how he let go a deep sigh of relief after inhaling deeply your scent. Only you could make him feel this calm and relaxed

Every part of your skin was reacting involuntarily to his warmth and the feeling of his hair tickling your neck lightly 

He lifted his face from your chest only when he needed to breathe but placed his forehead on it again, closing his eyes and trying to think what he needed to do to feel better. 

You didn't even dared to move or talk, you just let him be and do what he needed

So when he just got up, lifting you by placing his hands under your butt so you could wrapped your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist, you left a gasp of surprise

He didn't lost anymore time and just captured your lips with his own while making his way towards the wall

You felt your back hit hard against it, making you groan inside Michael's mouth 

Once he was sure you were balanced and wouldn't fall if he moved his arms, he proceeded to just rip your clothes off effortlessly 

He roughly bite, sucked and kissed every inch of exposed skin he could reach in your chest 

Imagine him doing this and you're like rolling your eyes back to oblivion while running your hands through his hair hard enough to make him let a low groan from deep inside his chest I- YOU ALL ARE MAKING A WHORE OUT OF ME 

Since we're here, you returned the favour and rip open his coverall 

You could feel the huge bones pushing against your belly

You made it easier for him so while he was still violently assaulting your chest, littering your skin with equal parts kisses and marks, you just tried to lift yourself enough using your back (idk if it makes sense I DON'T KNOW HOW ANY OF THIS WORKS. I'M JUST TRYING TO DELIVER HORNY CONTENT) while pulling down your pants enough to guide him inside you

YES I KNOW YOU ALL FUCKERS ARE GOING TO COME FOR ME NOW BECAUSE OF WHAT I SAID ABOUT THE BREEDING KINK. 

anyway you're getting fucking railed against the wall, I'm talking about the most brutal and orgasmatic fuck of your life right?

Michel has a hand placed against the wall next to your head for balanced, your basically  latching onto him and scratching his back while he has HIS FACE GLUED TO YOUR CHEST, PANTING HEAVILY WHILE HOLDING YOU CLOSER WITH HIS FREE HAND.

occasionally some moans of pain from the scratches and pleasure escapes his mouth. Their sound is so deep and rich that you could actually come by only listening to it. 

Moral of the story; when  Michael is sad he  likes to suffocate himself on your chest while fucking you against the wall. 

I HOPE YOU ALL ARE HAPPY NOW THAT I HAVE WRITE SINFUL STUFF LIKE THIS 

BO SINCLAIR:

It was one of those rare days where neither you or Bo had any chores to do

The heat was killing you, it was so hot you genuinely started to think you were going to get crazy 

Bo wasn't in a better situation. He laid flat on his back in the bed staring at ceiling 

He was shirtless and was wearing only his boxers

With how handsy Bo is one would expect him to try to spend the day doing mischievous things with you but the heat was unbearable even for his constant horny mind

You couldn't take it anymore so you just decided to take your shirt off in hope that would help with the heat

You could feel his stare from a mile away 

"I could give you a picture if you want to stare like that" 

"Oh don't ya worry darling…you already gave me one remember?" This man shouldn't have the right to speak sometimes honestly 

You could feel your cheeks getting their usual red tinted all over them. You tried to ignore him and just laid back on the bed while closing your eyes to get some relax

He couldn't resist the urge to gently trace with tips of his fingers a line from the top of your chest down to your stomach. It was such a gentle and light touch that your skin reacted almost instantly and you had to shut your eyes open

His fingers felt rough and calloused from hard work against your soft and warm skin

He was now laying on his side facing you, his head resting on his free hand while the other one kept touching you.

His stare was what sent shivers down your whole body. His blue intense eyes were darkened by desire as he eyed your body

He wasn't staring at you like you were some kind of object, it was almost like he could see your soul and was hungry for a taste of it. It was a mixture of love and lust that was driving you crazy, you couldn't even move as if you were under some sort of spell 

"You always had the most soft and beautiful skin I've ever seen… I never know if I want to take a bite or just kiss it…or maybe even both, what you say doll? What should I do with you?.." his voice was raspy and rumbled from deep inside his chest almost as he had just woken up. It made you hold your breath with anticipation 

He smirked at your reaction and with a swift move, he positioned you on top of him. Putting your whole phat ass in a strategic place; not too far away but close enough for you to feel a certain…something 

You had to place your hands on his chest to keep you still 

That reminded him of what you did the other day when he was getting ready

"You know… I've never understood your passion for planting that pretty face of yours in my chest. Maybe I should try to do it too, shouldn't i?" He leisurely caressed up and down your thighs that were on each of his side while looking you right in the eye. The heat was long forgotten, now you were the only thing Bo could think about

The heat and Bo's words were decorating your forehead with small pearls of sweats, you found yourself nodding without even think about the meaning of Bo's words 

He pulled himself up, always keeping you on his lap close enough to feel his ever growing boner under your ass, his palms placed flat against your back to keep you close, your hands gripping on his shoulders as if your life depended on it. 

Ever so slowly he started to get his face closer and closer to your chest, you could feel his breath crashing onto your skin making you shiver as you held on your own breaths trying to prevent your heart from beating faster and faster.

You just closed your eyes, waiting for the feeling of Bo's skin against yours

He knew you were waiting and just to tease you he blown a soft exhale of air on your skin (picture it as the way he blown on Carly's lips to get the glue to dry)

You couldn't hold back the sigh of frustration and pleasure that broke free from your lips

"We're getting impatient aren't we??" God he's such a FUCKING TEASE 

Bro kept teasing you and slightly moving your hips to make your ass rub on his dick until you didn't beg him to just take you right here and then 

And take you he did

Since we're talking about Bo you the drill, save a horse ecc

The whole time he kept planting soft and wet kisses on your chest, burying his face onto it to muffle the moans and occasionally biting onto your skin slightly because he couldn't say no to that. 

10/10 would recommend Bo wanting to plant his face on your chest

And now we know what he likes  to do when you're too hot because of the weather 

[osirisisv]

Local Boogeyman too old to commit war crimes! 👴🏻🎃🔪

Peepaw my beloved <3

[spidergutz-writes]

HCS ABOUT PEEPAW GOING TO PLACES WITH READER. it can be anything. like say he’s really clingy the day reader has so much to do and he’s like nahh imma go with you if you won’t stay here. im just a sucker for him being all silent and moody while his s/o does things with friends or whatever idk

hUFUFUUFUFUFUF-

Your just blessing me with all these FABULOUS ideas!!!!

Peepaw Myers x reader

BROODING 1000%

he’s gonna be glaring at EVERYONE, and everyone else is gonna be steering clear of his deadly gaze.

stands behind you and just looking over your shoulder at whoever your talking to with like 👁️👁️. He’s just gonna be heavily breathing while staring them down.

Occasionally he’ll put a hand on your shoulder to try and get your attention, wether it be so he can silently whisper something in your ear, or if he just wants to see you look at him.

he is most certainly more laid back than OG Mikey, so he won’t kill everyone you talk to, but he will glower at others.

Although he is scowling at everyone and huffing every now and then, he is pretty content with you doing all the socializing, cause like. It’s not like he’s gonna do it.

he’s very fond of watching you doing anything tbh, so seeing you interact with others does allow his cold, dead, and unforgiving heart to warm a little (a lot. He’s a sucker for you)

if your out and about and he’s not wanting to be seen, he’s gonna be sitting in the bushes sulking and brooking but like, times 1000.

how dare you be so far away from him! Your practically declaring how much you hate him /j 😤😤

your friends will ask why your constantly looking over your shoulder and waving at that alleyway near the cafe Yall are chillin at and you have to just be like “oh, i was just saying hi to my boyfriend. Yeah he stops by every now and then” and you’ll just have to live with the weird stares you get.

will get sad if you don’t look back at him enough :((((

but that’s all okay, because when you have to excuse yourself to go to the bathroom or something, micheal will be right there to snatch you up and have a…heated session with you, before your allowed to go back to your friends :3

[spookychick78]

OG Michael Myers One Shot

Warnings: Sexual harassment

Jotted this down after some asshole pulled something similar based on my outfit. Unfortunately, Michael did not show up, but fortunately I scared him off. Anyway, back to fiction.

Word Count: 1330

The cool air was biting at your skin as you quickened your pace through the poorly lit parking garage of your apartment complex. It wasn't unusual for you to feel somewhat uneasy when walking in that area, especially when it was so late. Unsettling characters had a tendency to flock to that particular building to seek shelter for the night or to do things that can only be done in the cover of darkness. However, that night the unease seemed more overwhelming than usual. You felt as though you were being watched. You'd had that feeling a lot lately.

Your phone began to ring, practically sending a beacon into the darkness as to exactly where you could be found. You kept your quick pace as you dug through your purse to find it and saw it was a collect call.

"Of course," you muttered to yourself, but ultimately decided to answer it. At least if any one was tempted to bother you it might provide some sort of deterrent to know someone on the other end was listening.

"Hello?" You said quietly as you made your way towards the elevator.

Sure enough, it was nonsense. You listened to the voice of a woman drone on about the benefits of attending the esteemed college she was paid to promote as you pressed the button on the wall over and over again. It was always so slow.

"No sorry, I'm not interested," you said, but trailed off when the elevator next to you opened to reveal a man, maybe just a few years older than you stumbling out.

He looked to be in a haze, his eyes half lidded and his feet unstable as he steadied himself on the wall beside him. Until he saw you. His glassy looking eyes widened and a smile that made your stomach churn crept its way across his face.

"You look so pretty," he slurred as he pushed himself off the brick, "so pretty."

“Thank you,” you said shortly with a forced smile as you continued pressing that damn button.

He drew nearer to you and for each step he took forward, you took one back.

"Can I have a kiss?" He said as he reached a finger towards your face.

"No," you said in a voice you had hoped would be less shaky.

He shook his head, either in response to your answer or to rid himself of whatever fog was in his head, you weren't sure. He kept moving closer and your heart sunk when you felt your back press against the wall behind you, there was nowhere else to go.

"Just one kiss, come on," he said as he closed his eyes and began to lean in towards you.

You quickly turned your face away and pressed your cheek to the wall, but he closed you in. With a hand on either side of you, you felt his lips meet the skin of your cheek. The smell of his breath was nauseating. You squeezed your eyes shut and felt your phone slip out of your hand to fall to the ground. You lifted your arms and pushed him back. That smile he had before quickly left and those wide eyes turned a frightening black. He barred his teeth at you and let out an agitated sound before he reached his hands out. He grabbed your face and yanked you forward, his mouth struggling to meet yours again. Your voice broke as you cried out for help and clawed at the back of his hands. He started to laugh and just before he finally got that kiss he was so desperate for he was pulled back. It startled you, but the wave of relief that followed was so welcome. When you opened your eyes you saw him with another set of hands holding his face.

"What the hell?" He choked out as he looked up at the man in a pale white mask who quickly wrapped one of his hands around his neck.

You watched the masked figure push him against the brick with such force cracks could be heard. You weren't sure if it was bone or brick that had broken, but based on the scream that ripped out of the man's throat you assumed it was the latter. With one hand holding the man in place he took his other and reached two fingers out towards his eyes. The man tried to fight back, but it proved useless. The masked man overpowered with ease and pushed his fingers into each of those wide eyes that had been undressing you moments before. Blood splattered over the white of his mask as the man let out another gruesome scream. His body shook as he began to sink into the man's grip around his throat, but the masked man lifted him up forcefully to continue his assault. He ripped his fingers out of the man's eyes and took his hand off his throat to place each of them on either side of his face. His head slowly tilted to one side as though he was admiring his handy work before he swiftly turned the man's head. That time you were certain it was the cracking of bone that echoed through the parking garage.

Your heart was racing so fast you were frightened it would escape your chest as you watched the now limp individual fall to the floor. After studying his body for a moment, the man slowly turned to face you. You pressed yourself harder against the wall as he took a step in your direction.

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

You wanted to close your eyes, you weren't entirely sure if he was going to kill you or not. He had, in a way, saved you from one horrific situation, but the brutality you had just witnessed made you question his intentions. He stopped in front of you and you could hear his quiet and steady breath through his mask as he tilted his head at you now. You looked through the holes to see a pair of dark, expressionless eyes staring back at you. After what felt like a lifetime under his gaze, he turned his attention to the floor. You kept your focus fixed on him as he bent down. When he stood back up his eyes went straight for yours again. You glanced down to see he was holding your phone in his hand. His arm slowly extended as he offered it back to you and you looked back up at him questioningly. He stayed inhumanly still as he waited for you to take it, which after a moment you did.

"Thank you," you breathed shakily.

He tilted his head once more as he silently stared down at you. Your pulse steadily returned to a normal pace as you came to the realization you weren't going to meet your end that night. His hand lifted again and he let the back of it brush your cheek, collecting the tears you hadn't even realized had spilled on his rough skin. His eyes glanced down to study the small puddle of liquid before he let his arm fall back at his side. Without any further interaction, he turned and calmly began to walk back into night.

"Wait," you said quickly, somewhat doubting your own sanity as soon as the word left your mouth.

He paused, but stayed facing away from you, "You saved me. Won't you at least tell me your name?"

Michael smiled behind his mask. You would know soon enough, he thought to himself, you were his after all whether you were aware of that or not. He had made that decision long before that night. Perhaps the next time he followed you home he would allow you to know him. He continued his slow, calculated pace, leaving you with only the man's body on the ground to remind you he did indeed exist, whoever he was.

[yaxfei]

This is just part 1.

Btw sorry for my bad english🥲

[casmortis]

Peepaw do a big stretch!

[ultrainstinctslasher]

Can you do a peepaw Myers ? He keeps killing everyone around you but not you and you don't know why but watching him kill turns you on and finally after he kills someone he ends up showing you some affection or just full blown out fucks you

Idk if you write smuts or not though just brainstorming thank you so much !!!

Old Man Myers x GN!Reader (OLD AF)

Warnings: Sexual assault, violence, death, reference to smut, ambiguous ending

Notes: Of course! SO sorry it took me so long, but here it is! And sorry, I'm not too comfortable with full on smut, but maybe soon. Hope you like it! Also, I sort of went a whole other direction from where I began, so I hope you don't mind.

A/N: Guys, hate to say this, but I HATE this, but I'm keeping it. Idk. Bye.

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It was killing you, the things that were happening.

At first, you hadn't really taken notice of it. After all, everyone was aware with the fact that the infamous Michael Myers has escaped Smith's grove, and the missing reports surrounding your not-so-close coworker were no surprise.

You two hadn't been close, but it wasn't unusual for you two to be together. You were quite friendly with each other, and you were pretty sure he fancied you, not that you reciprocated the feelings.

When he suddenly disappeared from work, you were actually a bit relieved. He had been getting annoying with all the conversations he would try to strike up. You had hoped that he left the city in fear of the Boogeyman, but when it was revealed that he was missing, and not long after that that he was dead, you couldn't say you weren't guilty.

The convict was, in fact, Michael Myers. Who else would it be? In a small town like this, no one would dare kill each other, very well aware how easy it would be to get tracked down. The only one not afraid was the Shape himself, and he was on the loose.

It was gruesome, they said. Never seen anything like it. Even Michael's past victims weren't brutalized like your coworker was. His face smashed until unidentifiable, organs spilt around the room, limbs twisted in all directions. No one could figure out why The Shape of Haddonfield would target the poor fellow, having no connection to him. But no one could question him, and even if they could, I doubt they would get a response.

While it was odd, and terrifying, knowing that your coworker was murdered, you very quickly got over it. He wasn't close to you, so why dwell on him?

But then, it was your friend. Someone who had actually meant something to you. While they were in no way your best friend, you two had been very close, and had gotten along amazingly throughout the years.

You had mourned them, their death much more painful than that of your coworker. They hadn't allowed anyone to see their corps, and you hadn't known why until you read the news.

They had been found in the same state as your coworker, if not worse. Papers said her hands were cut off completely, as well as gouged out eyes and a cut off tongue. None of those organs and limbs were found.

At least, not by the police.

But by you.

You had found them, in a box, neatly present in front of your door

Not your front door, your bedroom door

Michael Myers was in your house while you were asleep

It wasn't the first time he's done it

And it wouldn't be the last time

You were terrified. The paper and news never covered Michael Myers ever doing something like this. He had never showed any hints of interest at anyone, whether a victim or not, except for a glimpse at the corner of one's eye, which were always reported right away

And you started getting those too

Every once in a while, you would feel someone staring at you from some secluded area, and once you turn around, nothing but a shadow of what used to be there greeted you

You knew better than to expect to see him, he only showed himself when he wanted to

And when he did want to, you would catch a glimpse of a ghostly white mask, much more terrifying than the pictures online or on the news. The Shape was always too far away to see anything else, and that was exactly what he wanted

You knew going to the police was useless. There was nothing they can do about it

Things had gone quiet for a while, with no loses on your behalf, but Michael was still on his spree's, nonetheless.

That was until someone broke into your house

While you were aware Michael had been creeping into your home, as weird and horrifying as that is, you couldn't really do anything, and so you excepted it. You always knew when he broke in, as he would leave some sort of petrifying gift, like a severed finger or animal teeth, or something would go missing, such as your favorite pen, or a book you were reading, or it would be as simple as leaving your bedroom door open when you were sure you closed it.

But this was not Michael. Michael was not loud. And this person was.

Alarm bells sounded in your head, and the first thing you thought of is calling the police.

Reaching to your bedside table, your hand gripped at nothing. Your phone was downstairs

Cursing at yourself in your head, you slowly got out of bed and quietly creeped towards the bedroom door, trying to get a better idea of who broke in and what they were doing

As you leaned against the door, you heard heavy footfalls heading up the stairs.

Whoever broke in was not intending to steal anything. And somehow knew right where to go.

You, as quietly as possible, scrambled backwards until you reached the closet doors.

You hid inside, closing the door, and grasping onto the nearest object that can be used as a weapon. A hanger.

As you heard the footsteps get closer, you began to pray to an unknown force to save you, to wake you up.

The bedroom door creaked open eerily, forcing a shudder up your spine

It was ironic, really. How you felt safer with a mass murder than you did with what seemed to be an immature criminal. A man who wouldn't let his presence known was more comforting than a man who stomps his way upstairs. The figure that murdered and mutilated your friend was a better experience than some guy who probably never thought of the idea of murder. But you had an odd feeling he was thinking of something else.

The intruder walked around the room, clearly looking for something in particular. Someone in particular.

Suddenly, it seemed like all movement stopped. Everything became ominously silent, except for your somewhat raggedy breathing

Abruptly, the closet doors opened and a hand flew towards you

"Gotcha, Swee- agh!"

Using the hanger you armed yourself with, you stabbed the man in the eye and quickly made your way towards the door

You hadn't made it very far before a hand grabbed your ankle and dragged you back

"N-no! Let me go! Please!" You had yelled at the intruder, gaining nothing.

"And why would I do that? You weren't very nice to me. After all, you did hurt me, didn't ya princess?"

He laid you on your back and sat on your stomach, pinning you to the floor

The way he was looking at you made you want to vomit. A revolting predatory gaze swirled through his eyes. The way he was breathing made your body freeze.

Your muscles refused to respond as your assaulter began to move his hands on your body.

The feeling of his palms kneading you flesh was appalling, and made your bones feel hollow and cold

You shut your eyes as you felt tears well up in your eyes. They began to streak your face as your intruder was laughing at your reactions

"Awww. Are you scared? Is that why your face is red? Why you're crying? Is that why your heart is beating so fast? Because you're scared? How cute."

You began to pray for this to end in some way, whether it be waking up or being killed. Heck, part of you prayed for Michael to be here

Little do you know your prayers would get answered

Quicker than one can register, the man was pulled away from you with monstrous force

Just as your attacker had pinned you, your attacker was pinned just the same.

The sudden relief of the man on top of you was gratifying, and you began thanking whoever saved you in your head

Grunts of pain began to fill the room as the man who tried to rape you was suspended in midair by his neck. A large hand was wrapped tightly around the man's throat, applying enough pressure for pain, but not enough to kill him. Not yet.

You looked at the man who saved you, finding him already staring at you. The eyes of his mask served no purpose, as his true eyes were still not visible. The shadows covering him almost made him look inhumane, like a monster. Like the Boogeyman.

The larger of the two males never released his grasp on the man, yet solely placed his attention on you.

Neither of you moved, jus staring at each other. You were oh so very confused.

You have reached the point where you don't particularly fear Michael, knowing he won't kill you, but he still makes you feel uneasy, nonetheless. and his staring was making it any better.

You stayed like that, staring at each other with a few grunts of pain and help me's from the man filling the room, for a couple moments longer, and you trying to figure out what he wanted.

You were still in shock from what happened and couldn't find your voice to ask him, and so the silence pursued

But you didn't need it, you realized it yourself

The revelation of what Michael wanted was shocking, and you shamefully admit that it had aroused something in you

He wanted you to say it

He wanted you to tell him what to do

To tell him to kill him

And that made you feel things you shouldn't

Suddenly, Michaels heavy breathing was all you could hear. The thought of how strong Michael had to be to be able to strangle a grown man with one arm was the only thought on your mind. The smell of blood and death resonating from him was overwhelming your senses. The feeling of anger and anticipation burning around him like a flame was spreading towards you. The only thing registering to you was Michael.

He was patient, waiting for you as if he had all the worlds time. He refused to take his eyes of you as he watched you slowly come to realization of what he wanted, and watched you get tipsy with need

With time, you had found your voice, and muttered the words that sealed the man's fate

"Kill him, Michael"

And with that, Michael had begun his gruesome attack

The man had no time to scream as a knife was plunged into his stomach, ripping it open and revealing his insides.

Michael continued to have his way with the man as you watched with grotesque arousal

You were sure you were going insane. It must be Michael somehow rubbing of on you with his weird gifts and behavior. But you couldn't deny it. You couldn't deny the need you felt for Michael as you watched him demolish your attacker from existence

Michael stopped, seemingly to admire his work. He was crouched next to the now dead man, intently staring at him as if to reassure he was dead

Michael slowly got off from the ground and turned towards you. He made no effort to get closer to you but continued to stare at you the same way as before.

The room was much calmer now with the man gone. You maintained eye contact with Michael, fully knowing what he wanted now.

"Fuck me, Michael."

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