#Myers Well Pump

[marksbear2]

Daddyyy!! I have an idea, and Jason Voorhees & Michael Myers spilt roasting an bottom reader! Ik u dislike writing bottom reader so you could just write an small scenario.

JASON VOORHEES & MICHAEL MYERS X MALE READER

⚠️Warnings!! Could be G/N READER. Rough and hard sex, spilt roasting, mean Michael, blowjob, deep throat, pulling, 3some, same time. Pure smut!!⚠️

You lost track of time and how this all started, one moment you were running away from literally the two most slashers alive.

It started off with Michael seeing you fall and hurt your ankle. He stood up watching you scream in pain but also fear. Alongside with Michael, Jason approached looking down at you as well.

Then almost in sync they slowly look up form your body and they exchange an look before cornering you.

At first you resisted but as their large and rough gloved hands grabbed and touched your body you felt yourself getting more and more horny. Your body couldn’t hide the arousal you felt.

Now currently Heavy breathing could be heard above you. You were on all fours gagging around Michael’s cock while Jason was behind you thrusting his cock deep inside of you. Jason put one of his legs next to your thigh thrusting in and out of you in a deep and fast pace.

Which each thrust Jason thrusted your body up forcing your mouth to go down Michael’s cock.

As for Michael he thrusted his cock right back forcing his cock deep inside your throat.

They were toying with your body, treating you as if you were some fuck toy for them to share. You gagged and chocked around Michael’s cock while your moans and screams from pleasure were muffled.

Jason hands massaged your ass spreading them and gripping them. He was much more gentle then Michael that was gripping your hair down on his cock.

Jason thrust got faster and faster before abruptly pulling out and pulling your waist down to him pulling you off of Michael’s cock.

Jason flipped your body so you laid on your back. The two slashers switch spots now Michael is in between your legs. He held your legs apart and high putting your legs agaisnt his shoulders and once your legs were settled he put his hands on your hips before immediately thrusting his full cock inside of you showing no mercy or compassion.

The other slasher was watching slightly in Awww but mostly in arousal.

He noticed you were having a hard time keeping your legs on Michael’s shoulders so he reached over taking both of your ankles and holding your legs apart and high for Michael.

Jason looked down at you before swaying his large much thicker cock above your face. Eventually you wrap your lips around his cock. Jason was much more patient then Michael letting you suck his cock at your own pace. Jason’s hands ran through your hair just petting you.

While Michael on the other hand was thrusting fast and deep inside your whole. He was fucking your walls as of you were nothing to him.

His large cock abusing your hole. Michael looked up from your face, since he was just staring watching you sick Jason’s cock. As Michael looked up him and Jason made eye contact. Michael slowly lowered himself on you pressing his body against yours with his full body weight. Eventually Jason let go of your legs, as you immediately wrap them around Michael’s waist.

Michael put his hand on the base of Jason’s cock guiding him out of your mouth, Michael used his free hand to lift up his mask a bit so his mouth and nose was only visible. Michael pumped Jason’s cock before wrapping his lips around his cock bobbing his head down on the full thick shaft. You look and watch in awe as your shock gets cut off short by Michael hips pulling away and slamming himself back inside your hole.

Maybe if you keep up with them for the rest of the night they’ll let you live, or not…

THE END

[gennibennii]

backshots. ♡ 🌷🦴

𝜗𝜚. masked! michael myers x fem! reader. ˚୨୧⋆｡˚

( warning ;; another straight-forward, word porn fic! im still very new to writing and i promise to switch my works up later on/add more plot when i get new ideas or requests from you guys! enjoy it, lovelies! )

There's no feeling in the world that can compare to being pounded from behind by a six-foot-seven meathead of a man, his hand wrapped firmly in your hair as he rams his cock in and out of your pussy. Luckily for you, that's what's happening right now-- One of Michael's hands pulling your soft locks and another gripping your plump asscheek. You jolt forward with each thrust, face inches away from being shoved in a pillow, but his grip on your hair doesn't allow you to, your neck craned to the point where all you can see is the bedframe in front of you and the occasional glimpse of Michael's mask.

He hammers his dick into you over and over again, a rough calloused hand occasionally slapping your ass and you wince every time. It feels damn near close to a paddle with how much force he puts into every hit, a big red handprint forming on your bruised behind. It's evident Michael isn't exactly considerate about your pleasure when you two fuck. That's just who he is. You kind of predicted that when you willingly decided to get into a close relationship with a psychopathic serial-murderer, but the dick is good and you're a braindead slut when it comes to him, so no objections have come from you yet.

You can quite literally feel his mushroom tip continuously punch your cervix and your eyes water each time. It feels amazing, but it hurts like hell. He's completely aware his cock is absolutely gigantic and he still jams it as far as he can. Bottoming out is a must for him and it's one of the only times he'll actually audibly moan out loud. He doesn't make a peep when he gets injured by a victim, whether it be a gunshot or a stab wound, and no offense, but good pussy won't change the fact that he's a crazy, silent bastard. And trust me, you have very good pussy, so it has to be a Michael thing.

Michael's thrusts seem to quicken out of no where and wails seem to pour out of your mouth quicker than that, you being completely unaware of how well your cunt lips are gripping his cock, your folds holding onto the sides of his shaft with all it's might, as if it would shrivel up and die if a dick wasn't inside it. White cream builds up around your messy hole, streaks of nut juice coloring Michael's pale cock even paler and you can feel it spray on your skin and the linen bedsheets beneath you when he slams his hips against your cute little bum.

Feeling his orgasm approach, he tenses up and his hold on your hair tightens, a squeak escaping your lips when he suddenly plunges deep inside your womb, pumping your belly full of sperm. He pants heavily, unsheathing his dick from inside you and tapping the tip against your ass, wiping off the leftover cum onto your skin and climbing off the bed, leaving you there. The lack of aftercare bothered you at first, but at this point, you can't even gather the energy to overthink it. You already know he'll come back hard and ready to go after a few minutes, so why care?

The end!

[almostgenerallyalways]

mamas (don’t let your babies grow up to be cowboys)

Pairing: Jake Seresin x fem!reader Category: angst / fluff / run-on sentences Word count: 3,1k CW: language, I’ve been to Texas once okay forgive me, divorce Author’s note: this was supposed to be a holiday fic but I got stuck on it and almost abandoned it, but here it is rescued from my drafts, shoutout to all the amazing tgm fic writers your writing truly astounds me

Summary: Every year around the holidays, you hear from your ex. This year when you don’t respond, he decides to show up at your door. 

2022

Jake UT  [November 23, 2022 at 10:24 PM]

Hey stranger

Visiting my mom for Thanksgiving

How’ve you been?

You ignore the message. How you’ve been in the last twelve months is not something you feel up to discussing with him.

You spend the next weeks dealing with crisis after crisis at work, leaning into the chaos like you have been all year. Your personal life? Garbage fire. Reconfiguring your entire pump setup two weeks before going to production, because the DoC slapped an import ban on one of your key suppliers in China? You’re on top of it.

But then, the week before Christmas, another message comes in:

Jake UT  [December 17th, 2022 at 3:47 PM]

Hey

In town for the holidays

Would love to see you if you’re free

Brett welcome too, of course

A pang in your chest, but curiosity gets the better of you, so you text back:

Thanksgiving and Christmas? Judy must be thrilled.

You’ve met Jake’s mom all of one time, ten years ago, but she made a lasting impression. Fiercely protective of her only son, she’d been wary of you at first (you were, in order of importance: Too non-Texan, too vegetarian, and too focused on trying to rescue an almost-due group project for your sustainable water management class in which no one was pulling their weight).

And yet, over the Thanksgiving weekend you’d spent at Jake’s mother’s house in Colton, she’d slowly warmed up to you. You’d asked her endless questions about her job as a project manager at Austin-Bergstrom, and she’d poured you half glasses of wine (still exotic, to you, back then) at the kitchen island, shooing Jake back into the living room.

She’d even called you, after you guys broke up, to say she was sorry to hear it, and to tell you to call her up any time you needed someone to talk to. You’d tried your best to keep your voice even, not to break down in tears for the seventh time that day, and never called her again.

* * *

“Dude. Put your phone away for two minutes.”

Jake looks up apologetically at his friend, and pockets the device. “Sorry. Just expecting a text.”

Sandeep holds out his bottle of Lone Star, and Jake clinks it with his own. “It’s good to see you, man. Sorry I wasn’t around at Thanksgiving, we were visiting Jed’s family in NC. I didn’t expect you to be back so soon.”

Jake takes a swig of his beer, the cold liquid feeling like a balm to his throat. “Yeah, well. It’s been a big year, work-wise, so they owed me one. I wanted to spend some extra time with my mom.”

Bringing up his drink to toast again, Sandeep says: “Here’s to you, bud. And to getting that permanent assignment in California. At least we knew where to send our holiday card this year.”

Condensation drips down the neck of his bottle, and Jake spins it slowly in his hand, stopping himself from peeling off the label. He feels on edge, unmoored, despite this 6th Street dive bar being as familiar to him as the back of his own hand.

Sandeep’s got his number. “Seeing anyone else while you’re in town? I don’t know, Myers?”

Jake doesn’t look up, but feels his cheeks heat up fractionally.

His friend takes another swig of his beer. “I guess I should stop calling her Myers. You know, with the divorce and all.”

The bottle escapes Jake’s grip, and amber liquid sloshes across the table, into Sandeep’s lap. “Shit, Seresin! Grab some napkins, will you?”

* * *

 2012

 You’d always known there was an expiration date on this thing with Jake, which is why you’d been reluctant to meet his mom to begin with.

You wanted fundamentally different things. He, the Navy: Adventure, excitement, a chance to serve his country. You: Stability. A family. A place where you belonged.

Both of you: an opportunity to prove yourself.

It’s civil, as far as breakups go.

“You always knew I wanted to fly.” He says, over breakfast at Magnolia Café. There’s a hard set to his jaw that makes you soften in contrast, because of course you do, everyone who’s ever been near Jake Seresin for longer than ten minutes knows he’s always wanted to fly.

From your first date he told you about how Judy used to park him in her office at the airport when her summer childcare fell through; little Jake happily spending the day watching commercial jets taxiing and taking off in quick succession.

How her coworkers, the civilian engineers who’d stayed on after Bergstrom Air Force Base was decommissioned and commercialized, would regale him with stories about generations of F-4 Phantoms. Or the British Airways Concorde, one of only twenty of the ill-fated aircraft ever made, bringing the Queen to Austin in a little yellow hat. The Reconnaissance Air Meet bringing in the best fighter pilots from across all divisions of the military and abroad, to compete and show off their skills.

Jake would listen to them with stars in his eyes.

You pick at your migas, your appetite gone. “I know, Jake. I would never stop you.”

But you look at him, and you know your face mirrors his determination. “But I can’t come with you, Jake. I can’t start my career following you around from camp to base year to year. I’m forty-thousand dollars in debt getting this degree, and I need to follow my own plan.”

You haven’t moved in together, though Jake spends most of his nights at your tiny off-campus apartment, where you’ve made him countless cups of black coffee trying to fuel weekend study sessions. Where he would come in past midnight, back from the late shift at his part-time job at the H-E-B, and bury his face in your neck, waking you up even though you’d been asleep for hours. Where you would hold his sleeping head to your chest, his deep breathing somehow felt inside of you, and run your fingers up and down the bare skin of his back, trying to memorize him.

You’re twenty-two, you tell yourself. This is not the end of the world.

So you see him off at the front door, a box of his things clutched to his chest, and you force yourself to be strong. “You better be,” and you try to smile up at him, but you’re not sure you’re doing a convincing job, “You better be the best goddamn pilot the Navy has ever seen, Jake.”

For a second, he looks like he wants to say something, but then he just puts down the box, and pulls you into a last embrace. You sink into it, the fundamentally safe feeling of his arms around you, then make yourself pull away after a minute, pretending you don’t see the wet stains on his shirt.

Later you look at all the spaces in your apartment he is now conspicuously absent from (no dog-eared volume of Game of Thrones on the nightstand, no boots by the door), and it hits you then; the crevasse he’s left in your life. It may run deeper than you thought.

* * *

Jake had gone to Officer Candidate School in Rhode Island, then designator-specific training in Pensacola, Florida, and done his best not to think about you.

It helped that his days were intense and exhausting. It helped that, on liberty weekends, girls would flock to him and his friends in bars.

It helped to be several states away from you.

It helped to be living his dream.

* * *

There is a bit of a backslide, that first Thanksgiving after, where you both think it can’t hurt to see each other for one drink, for old time’s sake, which ends in him taking you up against the door in your new apartment, your legs wrapped around his waist because he does not have the willpower or presence of mind to figure out the way to your bedroom.

He knows it was a mistake, at about five AM the next day, when the blue light of morning starts streaming through a gap in the curtains, illuminating your tousled hair fanned out over the pillow, the steady rise and fall of your chest so familiar to him he could cry.

Untangling himself from you hurts, and he does perhaps the most cowardly thing he ever will: he sneaks out before you wake up. But next week he’s shipping out, and the thought of the same dead-end conversation over coffee made just the way he likes it is unbearable, so he makes himself walk away.

Somehow it’s worse, the second time around.

* * *

You’d met someone else, like he’d known you would. He sees the engagement announcement on Facebook, browsing on his phone between drills, and likes the post. It’s the third year he’s been away, and he’s at TOPGUN by then, so he has a lot on his mind. He has a girlfriend, even, a local: cute as a button, beats him savagely at pool.

It doesn’t fully hit him until the first time he sees you with your then-fiancé, at a little holiday reunion of college friends. He sees you with that ring on your finger, another man’s arm around your shoulders, and he gets an acute sense of the alternate reality that could’ve been his.

It feels a little like losing altitude too fast.

Your initial reception of him is understandably frosty, but you seem too genuinely happy to hold a grudge. By the third round, when he sidles up to you at the bar, you give him a quick hug, looking up at him with a smile that squeezes his heart: “I’m so proud of you, Jake.”

He nods, not quite trusting himself to speak, and pulls you back in, just for a moment, tucking your head under his chin. You smell like apple and magnolia, like nights spent with his nose pressed into your back.

You don’t invite him to the wedding, and he’s all too glad not to have to make up an excuse not to go.

* * *

Things settle, after that. Jake gets deployed and reassigned, breaks up with his girlfriend and eventually gets another. You get promoted to senior engineer, then project lead. You see each other, not every year but close enough, sometimes with your husband there, sometimes without.

He braces himself for the next Facebook post; that you’re pregnant, but it never comes. Over time, even that seems to lose some of its potential emotional impact on him.  

Until three weeks ago, when you don’t text him back.

* * *

 2022

 You kick your shoes off in the entryway, then head into the kitchen to pour a glass of water. Before you can reach the tap, the doorbell rings, and for a second you think somehow, some way, your terrible Bumble date has followed you home.

Grabbing the biggest kitchen knife you own off the magnet strip over the sink, just in case, you creep back to the door, barefoot, to press your face up to the peephole.

You don’t really expect to see the guy you just left, the ice in your glass not even melted before you were thinking up excuses to get out of there, but you sure as fuck don’t expect to see Jake either.

The door feels heavier than usual as you slowly slide it open, or maybe you’re just a little stunned. The night air hits your skin, and you can make out the sound of dogs barking in the distance.

For a long moment, Jake just looks at you, but then he says: “What were you planning on doing with that, sweetheart?”

You follow the jut of his chin down the line of your arm, and contemplate the knife for a second, Jake’s sudden appearance having made you forget all about it.

“I thought someone might have followed me here.”

“Ah.” He says, a spark in his eyes, clearly suppressing a smile. “If you were going to defend yourself in hand-to-hand combat, a knife is a terrible choice. I could give you some tips, though.”

Putting the damn thing down on your entryway console, you turn back to look at him. It’s not cold, exactly, in December in South Central Austin, but he looks underdressed: a long-sleeved light grey t-shirt, hands shoved in the pockets of a faded pair of jeans.

He looks good, you can’t deny it: he’s always had an immediate effect on you.

Jake, your somewhat gangly, sweet college boyfriend had it. Jake, ten years of military training later: older, filled out, fine crinkly lines starting to appear at the corners of his eyes (helped along by the California sun and God knows what far-off places), irrevocably still does.

You shake your head, trying to clear your thoughts. “What are you doing here, Jake?”

At that, his expression sobers, and he looks at you for a long moment before he says:

“You didn’t tell me.”

* * *

Fucking Sandeep, you think, rubbing the back of your hand across your eyes, because that fucker has not been subtle with the hints lately, tutting like a Victorian matron while you pass the time evaluating your Bumble matches with his husband during Monday night football’s ad breaks.

The granite of your kitchen countertop feels reassuringly cool beneath your thighs, and you take a deep breath, keeping your eyes on the tile below:

“I wasn’t ready.”

Jake huffs, or so you assume by the little sound that escapes him, as you determinedly face only his sneakers: “It’s been a year. You sure told everyone else we know.”

That makes your head snap up, emotion rising in your chest in a way you don’t like, have always had to tamp down when it comes to him, these last ten years. “Fuck off, Jake. You know it’s different when it comes to you.”

He leans back against the fridge, arms folded, just slightly lifting his right eyebrow at you in that irritating way of his: “I could’ve been there for you.”

Fuck it, you think, all cards on the table then. “I was heartbroken, and embarrassed, and trying to figure out how to exist on my own again after being married for five years to someone who didn’t turn out to be who I thought he was, Jake. Sorry my first impulse wasn’t to come cry on my hometown hero ex-boyfriend’s shoulder.”

His eyes soften, and he pushes off the fridge to come stand next to you, running his fingers over the edge of the countertop. “I’m sorry,” he says, voice quieter than a moment ago. “I’m being a dick. It’s just, you have to know, I would’ve been there for you.”

He pauses for a second, takes a deep breath: “It’s always been different when it comes to you too, sweetheart.”

You start to shake, a little, or maybe it’s your imagination. But your voice wavers as you say his name, everything about your tone a warning: “Jake.”

He closes his eyes, shakes his head: “Our timing sucked, and I don’t regret our decision from back then. I’m proud of who I’ve become in the last ten years, and I’m proud of you. You think I don’t keep up with what you’re doing? The articles you’ve published?”

This stuns you, momentarily. “No, Jake Seresin. If I’m completely honest, I didn’t think you gave a shit about the latest advances in Texas drought management.”

Just being near him, the familiar smell of him bringing up memories you’ve had years to unsuccessfully repress, is overpowering.

He makes it worse by turning to you, face so goddamn heartbreakingly earnest as he says: “I couldn’t give you what you deserved, ten years ago, but I always told myself, if I was ever in a position to…” He swallows. “I tried to forget about it when you got married, I tried to root for you and Brett, I swear.”

His hand settles next to your thigh, not quite touching, and your hand comes down on its own accord to cover his. He straightens almost imperceptibly, uses his other palm to wipe a tear that’s made its way down your cheek.

Cupping your face, he draws a deep breath. “I have a permanent assignment now, in San Diego. I know it’s…”

“Jake.” You interrupt, squeezing your eyes shut, grabbing the hem of his shirt. “I’m not remotely the same person I was back then.”

He moves to stand in front of you now, and you draw him in between your thighs. Suddenly it seems imperative that you feel him, that he holds you.

Dipping his head to yours, you can hear the smile in his voice, watery, tentative: “Then let me get to know you again. Get to know me again.” He leans one hand on the counter, the other tracing your cheekbone. “No pressure. I’m totally very cool about this. Whatever you want.”

You laugh, a little choked up through tears, but genuine. It feels liberating. “What if I say yes? How does this work?”

His smile broadens, eyes crinkling at the corners, and he’s so goddamn close, nudging your nose with his. “Come visit me, for a start. I’ll show you the sights.”

You draw him in a little closer still, legs wrapping around his waist, one hand finding its way into his close-cropped hair, and you could cry for how familiar he still feels after all these years.

But when you close the gap between your lips and his, it’s like coming home and yet not at all: he’s different and rougher and sharper and it floods you with emotion, something big and terrifying and old and new.

He leans into the kiss, grinning, cards his fingers through your hair before he moves to cover your chin, your brow, the space next to your ear with kisses, and you remember this with a jolt to your heart – how singularly intense it is to be the focus of Jake Seresin, like the strength of the sun is aimed at you, how he never does anything by halves.

You take his chin in your hand, kiss him again for good measure, before saying, into the stubble of his jaw: “One visit. No pressure.”

The grin he gives you in return could power half this city: “One visit. No pressure.”

He dips his head to yours again, kissing the skin behind your ear as he tells you: “Southern California has a lot of drought problems, you know. I’ve actually been reading some really scary articles about it.”

.

.

.

i hope you enjoyed :):) - if you liked this I hope you’ll check out some of my other work:

where the wild things are (rooster x reader)

cross my heart (hangman x reader) masterlist

[slashers-and-rats]

micheal myers x gn!reader | nsfw |

kintober day 4: con-noncon

rat chat: not all of the days are gonna be this long, as you’ve noticed. but i’ll try to make full fics when i can. i think this one is really good, so i hope you guys like it.

you could hear footsteps echoing your own as you walked through the windy neighbourhood. the street lamps did little to light your path, only seeming to add to the unease that had settled deep into your stomach.

your heartbeat had picked up drastically, and despite the chill in the air, your hands were sweaty. you were surprised at how quickly the fear had set in. right as the moon centred in the sky, and you began your little stroll through down your usual path, anxiety had crept in. something was about to happen, you could feel it. the anticipation came from paranoia, you knew that. but you couldn’t shake it.

you glanced at the houses around you, eyes darting over the darkened windows. people were already in bed, unaware of your presence completely. no one would know you were there.

you slipped your hands down into your pockets, patting around for your phone as a way to distract yourself. oh right, you had left it at home, it had been dead when you decided you wanted to go out.

you sighed through your teeth, cursing yourself quietly as you scanned the area again. this time you dared to look behind you.

there, a good few metres behind you, was a man. the figure was obscured by shadows, but some details broke through thanks to the flickering lights around you. he wore a jumpsuit, almost akin to something a mechanic might wear. his face seemed to hold no features, almost scarily pale, and messy hair draped over bits of his forehead. his hands were stark at his side, and he walked with such purpose.

when you saw him, you hesitated, stopping for a moment to study him. when you saw him stop too, the air escaped from your lungs. you sucked in a deep breath, taking a few steps backwards, and watching as he stayed in rhythm with you.

you turned back around, starting to hurry now back to your home. you were never much of a runner, but the adrenaline coursing through you allowed you to at least go faster than you had expected. you knew the neighbourhood well, you knew your path well. with luck, maybe you could get to your house. maybe you were misunderstanding this all, maybe he was just some man fucking with you, maybe, maybe-

his presence hit you first. it felt as though two mismatched magnets had met- the force hit your back and seemed to repel you forward. for a minute, despite knowing he was right there, right behind you, he didn’t act. it’s like he was teasing you. he knew you couldn’t run, he knew you couldn’t get away, and so he played with you. you could hear his breathing behind you, you his footsteps faltered as he tried to keep himself close but not right against you.

you examined the area again, this time not daring to catch the eye of the being behind you. you were a block away from your house. maybe he didn’t know that, maybe you could lead him there and get inside before he even realized you had made it to home base? you could call someone then, and this sick game would be over. maybe you could run for it, maybe you could make it, maybe you would win?

you rounded a corner, and it allowed you to see your destination. at the end of the road, you could see the warm glow of your living room through your curtained windows. there it was. you picked up your pace yet again, fuelled by the flight response pumping adrenaline into your bloodstream. much to your surprise, he didn’t pick up his own steps, allowing you to create distance.

maybe he was finished? maybe he was done with messing with you? maybe he just wanted to scare you? whatever it was, for a moment there was relief. you nearly jogged up to the fence of your house, looping around to the backdoor. the front had been dead bolted before you left, the only way in was from there.

you rounded the first corner of your house, and that’s when you heard it. sprinting. the heavy boots of the man from before was hitting the pavement hard, and out of the corner of your eye you saw his quick, deliberate strides. your eyes widened, and you finally began to run. he was nearly a block away, he couldn’t get there. he couldn’t, he couldn’t. you kept telling yourself this as you turned into your backyard, running up to your backdoor. you dug around in your jacket pockets for your keys, whipping them out right as the sound of pavement turned to the sound of lawn. your hands, slippery with sweat, struggled to find the right key. you pressed the wrong one into the lock, making you curse hard. you fumbled to finally find your saving grace, and when you did you sighed heavily.

just as you pressed it into the doorknob, he got you.

his chest pressed hard into your back, trapping you up against the door. all of your air escaped you, barely anything left was there to make the small squeal that came out of you. you squirmed against his body, pushing back against him, but his arms boxed in around you. you were trapped.

you could hear your pulse in your ears. you went to scream, but a free hand already came up to cover your mouth. it muffled your cry, and you squeezed your arm down to try and get at the key in the doorknob. it felt as though he allowed you to, letting you turn it and fall into the doorway of your kitchen.

you stumbled up to your feet, turning around to see the man stepping up into the room with you. he loomed over you, walking in enough that he could lazily kick the door behind him closed. this wasn’t thought through. now it was you and him, alone in the house, with nowhere to escape to.

you darted to one of the drawers in the kitchen, searching for something to defend yourself, but all you did was allow him to press his body up against yours once again. this time he didn’t have to cover your mouth, he didn’t have to trap you. you did it all yourself.

you turned around, pushing your hands against his chest. he grabbed your wrists, pinning them down by your sides while he leaned down and rubbed his face into your neck. it was a mask. through the holes in it, you saw his real eyes, peering up at you with a sharp, somewhat cold gaze. deep inside them, somewhere, there was also a burning. lust? you could see it. it sent a fire into your own core. you wiggled against him still as his hips slotted against yours, rubbing his bulge up and down your own warmth.

this must’ve excited him. the way he panted behind the plastic of his mask, the way he ground against you, the way he shoved himself as hard against you as possible. something about it was restrained, controlled, but the need he felt seeped through. maybe it was the chase? the feeling of catching his prey and taking his prize? you were his prize.

he let go of your wrists, deeming them little threat as his hands moved to your pants. they were loose things, a pair you didn’t care about. he ripped them with ease, revealing your lower half with little effort. you felt embarrassed, hands once again finding purchase against his broad chest. he pushed his fingers against his own clothes, finding a zipper at the top of his neck, and ripping it down his body. out fell his naked torso, defined and scarred. your eyes trailed down each and every line, looking at all the details. they trailed lower and lower, over his stomach and down his happy trail, resting on the cock that had fallen out of the front of his jumpsuit.

part of you was surprised he didn’t wear underwear, and the other part of you didn’t really care what he wore, because that wasn’t really the point right now.

your eyes widened, and he caught this, catching you when you turned away and began trying to run for the door again. he grabbed you easily, pinning your front down against the counter below you. your face pressed to the cool surface, and you whimpered at the sensation.

you felt him rut against your butt at that, enjoying the sounds of surprise you made every time his cock slid between your cheeks. you tried to wiggle your hips away, but it only added to his pleasure, the movements pressing you more into him. he was thick, pulsing against your behind. one of his hands held your hips, the other pressing flat against your back to keep you down.

suddenly, he stopped, pulling his cock away from your flesh. you breathed deep, anticipation wracking your brain. what was he doing? where did he go? his hands were still on you, but…

you listened to him huff, the hand from your hips being removed. you knew what he was doing when you felt his head pressing against your hole. you gasped, once again beginning to writhe, but he held you down. the second he was aligned, he pushed into you all the way.

the sudden intrusion pushed a sob from your chest. your mouth hung open, your hands moving back to meet the hips that were flush against yours. the sting of pain from the stretch you were feeling set you on fire. much to your dismay, it felt good. the flames licked at your insides, warming your core and filling you with pleasure. the sob that had escaped lowered into a small moan.

he sat for a moment, feeling you twitch. the second you had managed to relax against the counter, he seemed to take it as an invitation, and pulled himself back out to the head, before slamming back in. he began a steady rhythm, not too fast, while getting as deep as possible every time he moved. he filled you out so well, his cock pushing up against your g-spot with every movement without him even trying. it’s as if he knew your body perfectly, playing it like an instrument with ease. it was embarrassing. you were coming undone just from a few strokes inside of you. maybe it wasn’t just that? maybe it was all of it? the chase, the adrenaline, the anticipation, the excitement.

he felt it too. you could tell. he was groaning behind you, breathing heavy. his free hand found your hip again, gripping hard into your soft flesh, while the one on your back moved to the back of your neck. he squeezed his grip there, making you gasp, and you could feel him twitch inside you as response. he was desperate, you could feel it. he wasn’t here to play anymore. he wanted what he wanted, and it was only a bonus that you also felt good.

he pressed himself all the way inside of you, holding himself there in your walls for a moment. you relaxed against the counter, enjoying the way he filled you out. you weren’t supposed to be, but you couldn’t help it. it was a bit heavenly.

you could hear him gathering his senses, shifting his foot placement. both hands left your body, moving to grip at the counter on both sides of you. he then began moving, this time with more purpose. this wasn’t for you anymore, this time all thoughts of your pleasure had gone out the window. this time, he pumped into you hard and fast, hips barely pulling out before snapping back into you. despite the aggression in his movements, despite the way he seemed to forget you were even there, you moaned.

he was massaging your sweet spot, and with these shorter movements, he never let up on the area inside of you. it was constant stimulation. you felt overwhelmed, trying to push away, and escape this intense feeling, but you couldn’t. it only caused you to rock against him, shoving him deeper into your walls. he seemed to like the way you struggled, because he growled low underneath his breath, hips stuttering slightly, slowing for a moment, before hitting even harder into your fragile body. it made you thump against the counter with every movement.

a hand reached up, finding the back of your shirt, and pulling you into his body. you straightened, his chest pressed against your back, your elbows coming to rest against the counter to support the new position. his cock was barely moving inside you, barely thrusting, and yet you both were flooded with pleasure. you could feel him twitching inside you, which was just a response to your walls squeezing hard around him.

your orgasm was sudden. the build rushed up on you, having you scrambling to find stability. you were too late though, and it hit you like a truck, leaving you slack and trembling against the counter in front of you. you spasmed around his cock, your sounds sinful and slutty, all being poured out into the air of your kitchen.

it was enough for him. all of the sensations of the night had lead up to this, and within a few more strokes, he was coming hard inside of you. you could feel his cum flooding your insides, spilling out around his cock. behind you, he shook, his own moans near broken and choked. you both sat for a moment in the after, coming down from such intense climaxes.

“micheal…? micheal, you good back there…?” you rasped out after a moment. you felt your boyfriend shift, his arms coming to wrap around your torso as he laid his entire body over your own. you giggled, wiggling your butt against him, making him groan at the stimulation. “c’mon, get off… this counter isn’t really comfy, y’know.”

he grumbled something, before pushing himself up, and pulling himself out of you. you felt his cum spilling down your thigh, and he gathered some up on his finger, lazily pushing it back up against your hole. it made you sigh, and you straightened and turned around to face him. his arms immediately wrapped around your middle yet again, his face nuzzling into the crook of your neck.

“that was good. really good, actually, I’m surprised.” you stroked through his hair. “we should get cleaned up, though, I’m spent… i need sleep,” you whined the last part, before chuckling. he nodded, though didn’t move away from you. “you can take a shower with me?” he looked up out of your neck at this offer, and nodded, before beginning to pull you towards the bathroom.

you’d have to do this again, you thought. but maybe next time, you could be the big bad slasher. you wondered if micheal would even let you wear the suit and mask. you hoped.

either way, for now, you were content just taking a shower. you had won this little game, and this was your prize.

[sadhornyygirl]

Kinktober

Day 31: Halloween Party (michael myers)

For the children, Halloween was already over. And while the party for them ended, young people from all the neighborhoods left their homes and took to the streets; the celebration for them was just beginning. Boys with pockets full of cocaine and half-naked girls headed for the nearest nightclubs. For the new generation of young people in Illinois, Halloween had stopped being just "trick or treating" and became something more wild and liberal. Alcohol, unbridled sex and drugs were then the only bases that solidified the most anticipated night of the year.

And that's how you ended up on top of the handsome masked man, trying to save his life

"Please.' He murmurs in a tone of voice that is difficult to understand, 'I've never been...'

‘Never been fucked?’ You ask, already knowing the answer. ‘That’s obvious, my dear.’

The man is looking at you like you are a wonder, ‘How?’ hisses

‘All these years, and no one loved you like this? No one bothers to show you how you should be treated, how to deal with your own desires.’ You’re not saying this to be cruel, when a drop falls on your face and you look up. Michael’s eyes are fixed ahead, he monitors his breathing as you pull away from the hickey you left on him. You catch his tear and give him a gentle kiss. 'You are handsome.' You remind him: 'Breathtaking.' He gives you a shy smile at your compliment, 'You can have it,' you promise, and his hands hit the neckline of your purple dress. ‘If you tell me your name.’

He takes his time, with with your fingers roaming his body as he explores new territory. You can't understand how no one went out of their way to arrest and catch him sooner. Maybe he built his walls too well? What made him move away from everyone but you? Are you the only one bold enough to break it up? He seems to be weighing his options, wondering wondering whether it's worth giving in to his sexual desire to reveal something more about himself, something he can't take back. And then he whispers: ‘Michael’.

You step forward and pull him onto the nearest couch. Michael follows you obediently, and you make him sit down. Michael watches, completely placid, as you run your fingers over the bulge in his pants and his hips thrust into your palm. You check to see if he's dealing with his newfound feelings, if it's not too much, but Michael's waves you on. The sound of the zipper echoes in the silence as he begins to pant, the mere thought of what's to come mixed with his repression makes him melt under your touch. ‘Michael’, you repeat his name, palming him. ‘So sweet under all that power, all that facade.’

He's hard, leaking and panting for more when you run your finger over the tip of his cock, over the slit and gather the pre-cum there, 'Hurry.' He begs, but Michael is trying to maintain some of his dignity despite his hips rising up on the couch as his other hand begins to pump up and down his length. His eyes close and his mouth opens as Michael loses himself in the sensations you are providing him. It's the most exciting sexual experience you've ever had. Being the one who takes something so precious from him, the disposition.

His first orgasm crashes over him, boyish and spurting copious amounts of cum all over his hand, staining his pants, shirt and jacket. Michael shoves his fist in his mouth to mask his screams, his hips shaking with the intensity as you go faster, jerking him off until Michael can't form words, his orgasm a blinding collision of sensation and freedom. ‘Jesus, fucking Christ.’ He hisses, his his eyes falling on you as you watch him descend. You're dripping in your pants at the sight of him. He's never looked more stunning than when he's on the verge of orgasm, like a god with his sharp features and heaving chest.

'It was good?'

'Perfect.'

He is already starting to glow with sex. Michael is still hard when he starts to go down, much to your pleasure. He has stamina and reaches for you, holding your waist as you push your pants to the side and slide down on his cock. He's filthy and wet when you impale yourself on him. Michael’s moan is guttural; your hips are already lifted as you set a rhythm, keeping your hands on his chest for support. You lie down, enjoying every inch of him, determined to get as much pleasure out of taking his virginity, from ruining him. ‘That’s it.’ You encourage: ‘Just like that. Then, when you're ready, you'll cum inside me. I'm going to let go, I'm coming with you.

That's all he needs to hear, his grip and his long, thick length already pushing you over the edge as Michael bites down harder on your hand, his rings glistening in the darkness of the room, his face scrunched up in orgasm. It's the best feeling in the world, watching him come undone beneath you, watching his muscles contract and relax beneath your fingertips as you bend down to kiss wherever you can reach. He lasted longer than you expected, and it hurts when you pull away from him. He cries as his cum drips from his core, pulling on his chest, staining more of his black shirt. Michael is completely fucked, eyes open just enough to see the cum dripping onto his stomach and he reaches out to scoop up some, wondering as you slide your pants back into place.

— I believe you won't kill me now??

You smooth out his dress, the wetness and remnants of Michael's cum soaking your pants. Michael sits up, his eyes still wide, but he's more relaxed than you've ever seen him, 'How did this happen?'

You plant a kiss on his lips, and Michael kisses back: ‘Do I have a place in your life now, Michael?’

He nods, ‘If you do that again,’

You smile at his boldness and reward him with another kiss. You straighten up and head to his door, Michael watching you go. 'Tonight, when the others are asleep. My room this time.

[cherubdollyy]

NSFW ABC - Michael Myers

18+ MDNI - AN: reader is gender neutral/no pronouns. CW: really soft c n c - domination + BD SM - violence and gore - knife play - choking, slapping etc - slight voyeurism 

I reeeeealllllly enjoyed writing this one even though Michael isn't even my fave (sorry mm fans)

A = Aftercare (what they're like after sex) - A little cold and awkward at first but eventually he'll put an arm around you and just accept you cuddling up to him.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner's) - He's come to love his eyes. He always thought of his stare as cold and monstrous, another weapon for him to use, but the way you look straight into his soul and aren't scared away is something he adores. The same goes for you, he loves your eyes, how innocent they can be. Looking at the world with kindness and seeing beauty where he couldn't.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically) - He's kind of a neat freak so he doesn't like leaving a mess. He'll lick up every drop from you until you're ready to cum all over again. He loves forcing his load down the back of your throat so you have to swallow every last drop.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs) - He doesn't keep these things secret because he's ashamed, they're just things you haven't discovered yet. He'll watch you through your windows, he'll follow you to make sure you're okay. He'll take your underwear with him so it's like you're always there and after a killing he'll wrap them round his cock and and masturbate with them. He does have a fantasy of following you after work at night and grabbing you aside to have his way with you but he doesn't want to scare you off.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they're doing?) - He's seen people having sex but until now he's never done it himself. I feel like he's tried  to with victims but with all the screaming he just ends up shutting them up with a knife to the vocal chords and not bothering. Let's face it, he doesn't really have the social skills.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying) - Anything dominant. As boring as it sounds he really does love missionary and the way he grabs your wrists with one hand and your throat with the other, nothing could be hotter. 

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.) - He has his funny little moments but he's very deadpan (remember the sheet with the glasses, he's a goofy boy.)

H = Hair (how well-groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.) - He keeps things quite trim down there. Same goes for his nails, beard etc and he has a little shower routine 👉👈 Gets his soap and washcloth, his razor and his towel neatly folded ready for a bath after a night of killing. I like to imagine that he's interested in your face masks and you rope him into doing them every week. It's come to be something he secretly really enjoys. 

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect) - He's quite cold and domineering, pushing and pulling you into whatever position he wants you in. But occasionally  in these moments of lust he'll brush the hair out of your face or linger on your lips a little longer after you kiss him. It's these moments you know, that he's never shared with anyone else, that are him showing his love to you in a way so deep he can't express it verbally. 

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon) - We already know about the underwear situation but other than that he doesn't masturbate much. He has a mutual masturbation kink where he'll pretend to hide in the wardrobe and watch you walk over to your bed, pleasuring yourself and calling out his name gripping the sheets as you reach your climax. All the while he's tucked away amongst your clothes pumping furiously to your moans. 

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks) - Domination. BDSM. He loves to control you, have power over you and see you helplessly tied up waiting to receive whatever he's about to do to you. He loves knife play. Tracing his blade up and down, gently at first and then more and more, drawing blood from your soft supple skin. Hearing you whimper as he slices gently into you, knowing you can't see for the blindfold. Choking you, edging you, getting to the point of breaking you and that's when he'll untie you, free you of your bonds and give you your release. 

L = Location (favorite places to do the do) - Pretty much just in the house as he thinks of it as your territory, mainly in the bedroom but also the living room. He'll walk in covered in blood, knife dropping to the floor and stride over to where you're cosied up on the couch reading a book and you get butterflies knowing what's about to go down. 

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going) - After a kill can be a nerve wracking time for him because he has all this excess energy to get out and one way he knows to  is to have you. He tends to worry that he'll hurt you as he kind of blacks out during these periods but the touch of your hand on his face brings him back to reality and you always know just what to do to help him get his release. 

N = No (something they wouldn't do, turn-offs) - He is never letting the tables get turned on him. There's no way you're going to be tying him up and dominating him. Any time you try and tease him by pulling away from his cock and giving the head soft kisses, looking up at him with knowing eyes, he'll grab your hair and use you to finish himself off making you gag on his length as punishment. 

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.) - He tends to prefer getting head over giving it but that doesn't mean he doesn't enjoy going down on you too. He tends to prefer using his hands over his mouth so he can choke and slap you as you cum. 

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.) - Fast, hard and powerful. He knows how to use slow strokes to drive you insane, using his overwhelming strength to hold your hips in place so you can't take control. 

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.) - He comes across things in victims homes that he'll tell you about as a "What is this?" and "How do we use it?". If he likes the sound of it you'd order one of your own to play with and you notice on the days when you're waiting for it to arrive he's the one sprinting to the door when the post arrives. The disappointment on his still face is so obvious to you when it's just a bill in his hands, he shoves it over a little rougher than he meant. 

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.) - Michael is actually very careful with you. He's very methodical when setting up and he's aware of the human body. He's aware that he's much stronger than the average man, he knows how much is too much. Sometimes getting you tied up takes so long that's the part he loves. Slowly moving around the room while you're lying there helpless and blindfolded, not knowing when he's going to attack. Sometimes he never does and lets you lie there dripping. 

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?) - He has inhuman strength and regeneration powers so he could literally go forever. Honestly it's over when he's done. Sometimes it's quick and he's satisfied. Sometimes a victim gets away or he's interrupted and he needs the whole night to take out his frustrations on you. 

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?) - You might mention things to him, explain what you want to try out and he'd be more than happy to oblige. You soon realised he has a way with being dominant and favours having control over you. Whether it's through mental games or physical means. He particularly likes edging you with vibrators etc while you're tied up.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease) - He likes playing games with you. Not overtly sexual, telling you to stay put and wait for him until he gets back which turns out to be hours later. You're so grateful to finally see him and get your reward but he goes to the bathroom to clean up and you can't do anything but stand there, aching for him.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.) - He's fairly quiet but as he thrusts harder his breathing gets heavier, moaning briefly into your skin, growling even, like a low purr.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character) - He's very protective of you and he'll tail you when you're going to work etc. You won't notice him at first but after a little while you'll catch on but keep it to yourself because it makes him feel needed and you appreciate the gesture.

X = X-ray (let's see what's going on under those clothes) - He's fairly lean, very strong with a somewhat toned body. He's LONG, like even when he's soft he's packing!!

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?) - He's not a super cuddly and affectionate person but he is pretty needy when it comes to you. Once he starts exploring with you and knowing what you like he wants it a lot. It's a good outlet for him but he also loves to make you feel good. 

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterward) - He often stays awake for a while, lying there while you fall asleep on his chest. He's a bit on alert after being so vulnerable and he wants to protect you and your space so he stays up for a bit and maybe wanders around the house whilst being butt ass naked of course.

[everything-magic-sparkles]

Michael Myers Smut 18+

🔪 🩸 🎃 🍁 🍂 😷

Many might think Michael only tilts his head when his curiosity gets the best of him. Hohoho it’s not just that.

Michael is likely a sexually repressed virgin that can only find satisfaction through killing, as he likely doesn’t have any clue what sexual pleasure is. His heavy breathing gives it away. He loves slowly approaching his next victim- and if they’re oblivious to what’s going on at first, that gets him off even more.

Once they do know what’s happening, however, that’s when the real thrill for Michael sets in.

He loves to watch them stumble over their own feet and struggle to regain their balance, or when they jump out of their skin when he scares them.

Plunging his large butcher knife into their flesh and hearing them gargle on their own blood will do the trick, wrapping his large hand around their neck to feel their jugular vein go from pumping hard, to hissing as the blood empties from their body. In the middle of doing this, if it feels especially satisfactory, his head will tick to the side, eyes rolling back. He can’t help it, it just feels so good.

You made him do this the night you showed him what sex really was.

Being as kinky as you were, you understood how his messed up antics got him off. And how being sexually repressed can drive one to kill.

He stood there, watching from afar, and breathing heavily as you teased him by pulling up the ghost sheet you were wearing and exposing your cold, yet flushed ass to him. You had noticed him on your night out trick or treating, standing in the dark.

He had likely been stalking you all night.

You were too scared to speak, but horny enough to taunt the legendary killer that haunted Haddonfield Illinois. You’d been waiting for this moment ever since you heard about him.

His hand gripped the handle of his knife tightly, breath shaking as you spread your ass cheeks with your hands. He didn’t know why, but seeing those two round mounds of flesh with a couple of holes between them was making his cock stiff. Sweat practically poured down his neck and out his mask.

Looking around for a moment, you suddenly noticed he had disappeared. “Fuck…” you cursed under your breath before he appeared right in front of you.

You shut your eyes tightly, hearing him step in front of you.

…But he just stood there when you opened them?

“M-Michael?” Your heart was pounding in your throat.

As you both stood in front of each other, you noticed that he wasn’t trying to hurt you. His demeanor almost seemed like a cry for help. And your theory was proven right whilst your eyes were examining him. He had a gigantic frame. Standing at 6’3 and weighing in at 200lbs.

As your eyes danced around every part of his body, they landed on the large, off to the side bulge in his navy blue coveralls.

You swallowed, “o-oh.”

Hesitant as to what do to first, you approached him, reaching for his collar. He stepped back for a moment, but let you do what you wanted. Your heart was thumping in your ears, you couldn’t believe he was letting you undress him.

His breathing became heavier and heavier the closer you got to his bulge. Slowly, but surely, you took out his swollen, eight-inch cock. The girth was about as large as your forearm.

“Sh-shit…” you hissed. you had no clue how this was going to fit inside either of your holes.

Not caring in the slightest, you turned back around for him. “G-go on. Put it in, Michael.”

He simply looked at your ass. Eager to engage, but confused. He grabbed your soft flesh and stepped over to you, poking your asshole curiously with his large finger. You moaned as it slipped in, exploring its walls. Once he got this sensation, he couldn’t help but press his cock against your ass.

At first, you thought he was just teasing you. He was being rough and sensual, teasing you well, but then it escalated to him grunting and whimpering under his breath as he tried to push the head of his cock into your ass.

“Is… Is he a virgin?…” you thought, “How cute…” You reached your hand behind you, grabbing ahold of his cock, “L-let me help you.”

His panting turned into breathy moans as you guided his tip into your ass and he let out a deep yelp, his legs shaking, hands death-gripping your skin.

“Y-yes~ fuck, M-Michael~ fuck me~” you said as you pushed back on his hips a bit. He quickly caught on to your gesture, grabbing your love handles and slamming his full shaft’s length into your tight shit hole.

“GOD- FUCK!” You screamed as it plunged deep inside you. It stretched the tight ring of muscle like a rubber band about to snap and you loved every second of it.

He moaned like crazy, hoisting you up high with your face and chest against the wooden fence. You felt like a kebab with how his cock had skewered you like a piece of meat on a stick.

It didn’t take long for your juices to start gushing all over him. And ohh how he loved to feel liquids splatter onto him. Feeling it on his cock and hung balls sent him over the edge.

His breathing became ran ramped as he grew close, suddenly climaxing. His head snapped to the side in a head tilt, eyes rolling back. He violently and deeply thrusted every second, your breath, taken. With each thrust of his hips it felt like a wine bottle’s cork was popped in your gut. His thick cum was painting your insides and gushing out of whatever was left of your gaping meat hole.

He took the sheet of your ghost costume and pulled it up high, holding it against the wooden fence. Taking his knife, he stabbed the fabric into the fence and left you hanging there like a freshly washed, wet sweater left to dry.

He had let you live that Halloween night. And you knew you’d want him again next year, and the next year, and the next… And the next…

🎃🔪

[alittlebitofeverythingtbh]

Keep Your Eyes On The Screen

Corey Cunningham x fem!reader

Warnings: smut, 18+, fingering, threatening, cursing, etc

Halloween night was pretty much the same every year. You invited your friend now boyfriend Corey over to watch some scary movies and eat far too much candy. You were throwing various mini chocolate bars into a bowl as well as lollipops and Smarties when you heard your doorbell ring. You set the bowl onto the table and went across the house to open the door. You were shocked to see that there was no one there. Feeling a bit creeped out you called, “hello? Anyone there?”

“Boo!” Corey yelled as he jumped from the bushes onto your doorstep. You couldn’t help but jump a bit, “dammit Corey!” He grinned, “sorry baby, I had to.” He was wearing a casual outfit that looked really nice on him, his glasses notably missing. You rolled your eyes playfully, “in this town? Thank god it was you and not Michael Myers or something.”

Something flashed in his eyes as you said that, but you didn’t notice. Instead you moved aside and let him in, locking the door behind you two. Corey went over to the tv stand that had a pile of movies on it, looking through it before picking up the original Scream, holding it up to you with an eyebrow raised. You nodded, “yeah that’s a good pick.” You walked back into the kitchen and brought out the giant candy bowl. Corey laughed, “holy crap, that’s even more than last year.” “Yeah and last year we ate the whole bowl, thought I’d stock up in case.” Corey grinned at that as he unwrapped a Hershey bar, “it’s gonna be gone, I can promise you that.” You slapped his arm playfully as you took his coat to hang up, “Corey Cunningham you better not eat it all!” You heard him laugh again as you hung his coat on the rack behind you, as well as the distinct sound of another candy wrapper being opened.

You two were settled on the couch not long after, you pressed up against his chest as you watched the horror film you both had seen multiple times. You had gotten to the bathroom scene in the film when you felt Corey’s hand move slightly. You thought nothing of it until you felt your waistband get pulled. You turned to look at Corey, who had a dark look as he continued watching the film, acting as if he wasn’t about to put a hand into your pants. “What are you…” you started. “Shhh, just watch the movie,” he whispered, his fingers now teasing the front of your underwear. You shivered, “Corey how am I supposed to do that?” He turned to you, looking at you seriously, “keep your eyes on the screen, baby.” Already feeling yourself get excited, you listened to him. You went back to watching the movie as his fingers pushed past your underwear, slowly rubbing circles on your clit. You let out a small whimper, making Corey grin again. “Poor thing, all needy for me,” he whispered, “already so wet, too.” Not a moment later, the first finger slipped into you. You let out a shaky moan as he began to slowly pump it into you. “So tight….” he whispered, “you’re so tight.” Your attempt to focus on the movie was already getting so hard, but you wanted to do it for him. That would get harder when you felt a second finger slip in beside the first. You moaned out his name as he chuckled, “good girl. Being so good for me…”

Corey’s fingers began to speed up a bit, and you bucked up against them. You were now at the part of the movie where Ghostface attacks Sidney at her house, and that gave Corey an idea. “I wonder what would happen if I had a knife to your throat. Would you squirm for me? Beg for mercy?” “Oh fuck…Corey,” you whimpered as you turned to face him. His free hand shot up and grabbed your jaw, “did I say you could look away baby? I don’t wanna have to punish you.” His fingers stopped moving inside you, causing you to look back at the screen with a whimper. “Good girl, keep watching the movie while I take care of you,” Corey whispered.

He kept fingering you while the movie played, voicing all of his fantasies to you for the first time. “Maybe I should wait until you’re asleep, break through your window, and hold a knife to that pretty little throat. I can just imagine how confused and scared you’d be, at my complete mercy. You’d like that baby? For me to take what I wanted?” His fingers sped up, causing you to moan even louder. “Maybe I should tie your hands together,” he continued, “and just use you over and over again. That knife still against your throat, and my cock deep inside you. Or maybe I’d stalk you around town, following you home. Sneaking inside and waiting for my chance to pound you into your mattress.” You whined his name as his fingers sped up again, “fuck…Corey…” He grinned, his eyes darkening as he felt you get wetter as he described these scenarios. “Sounds like my baby wants that, huh? Sounds like she wants to be afraid as I fuck her. Maybe I’ll wear a mask, and you won’t be able to see my face. You can pretend it’s a real intruder taking what he wants. What he needs,” Corey said as he finally added a third finger, growling as he felt you tighten up around them.

“Corey…” you whined, “I’m gonna cum.” “Yeah? Is my baby gonna cum for me? Cum on my fingers thinking about how I can take advantage of her? And use her over and over again?” he leaned in closer to your ear, “then do it. Cum all over my fingers like the little slut you are.” Not a second later and you came around his fingers with a sob, bucking wildly on them as he continued to push them into you. Even after you came, Corey kept pushing them in and out of you, overstimulating you with a grin. Finally, he stopped. You laid back against the couch trying to catch your breath when you felt the couch move beside you. Corey moved to the floor and took your pants and underwear all the way off, spreading your shaky legs apart. He looked up at you with another grin, “keep your eyes on the movie, darling.” You went back to watching Scream as you felt his mouth on you, starting again.

You were gonna be there for a while.

[whoreforhorror]

Kinktober Day Three: Knifeplay with Michael Myers

Day Three: Knife Play with Michael Myers

Being with Michael was never dull. There was always some quirk or trait that you'd only find in him. Of course, being as infamous as he was, you knew of his activities. The murders certainly weren't hidden from you, but he kept it away from the house upon your request. Still, there's a voice in the back of your head that worried, just a teeny bit, that he would change his mind one day and turn his blade on you. 

He'd never been hostile to you while you two were in the relationship, and he'd been cautious to reassure you that the thought hadn't even crossed his mind. So, as you lay on the bed exposed to him, with his body atop yours in nothing but the mask, the hot and heavy atmosphere came to a startled halt for you when Michael brought out the very knife he uses for killing his victims. Maybe this was it, and he'd decided you weren't right, that he didn't want you anymore. 

"Michael... what... what are you doing?" You could hardly get the words out, your eyes locked on the knife as a lump formed in your throat. He didn't say anything back, of course, but he held the knife in a forward grip, different from the reverse grip he used with most of his victims. Micheal brings his free hand to your face, stroking your cheek gently. It was a gentle gesture that served to calm your nerves but confuse you at the same time.

He wouldn't do such a thing if he intended to kill you, so... what was this? He brings the knife to the other cheek, touching the flat side of the knife to your skin, the cold metal feeling like a burn on account of your rising anxiety. He just keeps it there for a little bit, stroking your cheek, and caressing your jaw as the knife is held gently to you. Then, his hand moves lower, brushing down your neck, to your shoulders then your chest.

Fem:

He brings his free hand to your breast, touching and caressing, moving to your erect nipple which he takes between his thumb and pointer finger. He pinches it just a bit, holding it like that before twisting it as well. He was gentle enough that it wasn't unbearably painful but it sent a jolt through your system and you let out a noise halfway between a moan and whine of discomfort.

Still, the knife rests flat against your cheek, but his actions otherwise continue with the intimacy and sexual nature. It was different, it was confusing... It was kind of hot. The thought that he could end your life right here and now, but chose to continue elsewise... to be completely at his mercy without the power to defend yourself if you wanted to. You almost hated to admit it but it was getting to you and you could feel your inner thighs becoming slick with your desire and arousal. 

His hand leaves your breast and trails even further down now, down your stomach, and further yet. He spreads your lower lips and guides his cock into you. It was a stretch, it always was given his girth and length, but a pleasant one. As his dick finds home in you, another moan escapes from between your lips. He goes slow and gentle at first.

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

As he pumps slowly, he moves the knife, letting the tip drag across your skin and leave the lightest scratch. He trails the knife down your throat and to your breasts, moving to hold the knife directly over your heart. His thrusts start to get just a little faster but stay slow overall. With the knife, he makes the shape of a heart over your actual heart, the knife leaving a thin cut in the shape. Blood bubbles out the cut but it’s not deep enough to run. His free thumb moves to brush over the wound and you can hear the change in his breath. It grows heavier, more shallow. His thrusts get a bit faster again, going at a decent pace now. You can feel his tip deep enough that it brushes up against your cervix.

He brings the knife back up, to your throat this time. His thrusts pause as he looks at you, at where his knife sits pretty right where your vocal chords are. Then, his thrusting picks up speed tenfold. Michael starts plowing into you, thrusting into you like a jackhammer at full speed as his dick starts driving your mind numb with pleasure. The knife stays to your throat, the only thing that’s keeping you grounded in reality and keeping you from going entirely cock drunk. Over and over and over again he goes as deep as he can, as fast as he can. 

Your thighs clench around his waist, pulling him deep into you as you cum, clenching around his cock. Your body goes slack post-release but Micheal isn’t done yet. He flips you onto your stomach, and he’s so quick you can’t tell if he even pulled out as he flips you over. Either way, he's plowing back into you as if nothing had changed. Michael’s hand not holding the knife goes to your chin, pulling your head up and back, making your back arch and exposing your throat where the knife remains.

He pumps harder, deeper, faster if that’s even possible. Michael’s hips start to sputter and lose their rhythm. Breaths of his puff out, heavy from exertion, and what you wouldn’t give to see his face in this moment. The knife digs into your throat just a little, opening a thin, shallow cut as he cums deep inside you, his muscles tensing and his hips coming to a halt. 

He pulls out, taking the knife from your throat and putting it to the side. He flops down onto the bed as you roll over to face him, the two of you holding each other, not caring of the sweat that coats your bodies. As Michael pulls the blankets over the two of you, he lifts his mask just enough to plant a kiss on your throat, right where his knife sat.

Masc:

His hand trails to one of your erect nipples which he takes between his thumb and pointer finger. He pinches it just a bit, holding it like that before twisting it as well. He was gentle enough that it wasn't unbearably painful but it sent a jolt through your system and you let out a noise halfway between a moan and whine of discomfort.

Still, the knife rests flat against your cheek, but his actions otherwise continue with the intimacy and sexual nature. It was different, it was confusing... It was kind of hot. The thought that he could end your life right here and now, but chose to continue elsewise... to be completely at his mercy without the power to defend yourself if you wanted to. You almost hated to admit it but it was getting to you and you could feel your inner thighs becoming slick with your desire and arousal. 

His hand leaves your chest and trails even further down now, down your stomach, and further yet. He spreads you open and guides his cock into you. It was a stretch, it always was given his girth and length, but a pleasant one. As his dick finds home in you, another moan escapes from between your lips. He goes slow and gentle at first.

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

As he pumps slowly, he moves the knife, letting the tip drag across your skin and leave the lightest scratch. He trails the knife down your throat and to your chest, moving to hold the knife directly over your heart. His thrusts start to get just a little faster but stay slow overall. With the knife, he makes the shape of a heart over your actual heart, the knife leaving a thin cut in the shape. Blood bubbles out the cut but it’s not deep enough to run. His free thumb moves to brush over the wound and you can hear the change in his breath. It grows heavier, more shallow. His thrusts get a bit faster again, going at a decent pace now. You can feel his tip deep enough that it brushing deep within you.

He brings the knife back up, to your throat this time. His thrusts pause as he looks at you, at where his knife sits pretty right where your adam's apple is. Then, his thrusting picks up speed tenfold. Michael starts plowing into you, thrusting into you like a jackhammer at full speed as his dick starts driving your mind numb with pleasure. His free hand moves to your cock, stroking and twisting in time with his trusts, driving you absolutly mad with exstacy. The knife stays to your throat, the only thing that’s keeping you grounded in reality and keeping you from going entirely cock drunk. Over and over and over again he goes as deep as he can, as fast as he can, hand stroking you at the exact same pace to match.

Your thighs clench around his waist, pulling him deep into you as you cum, clenching around his cock. Your body goes slack post-release but Micheal isn’t done yet. He flips you onto your stomach, and he’s so quick you can’t tell if he even pulled out as he flips you over. Either way, he's plowing back into you as if nothing had changed. Michael’s hand not holding the knife goes to your chin, pulling your head up and back, making your back arch and exposing your throat where the knife remains.

He pumps harder, deeper, faster if that’s even possible. Michael’s hips start to sputter and lose their rhythm. Breaths of his puff out, heavy from exertion, and what you wouldn’t give to see his face in this moment. The knife digs into your throat just a little, opening a thin, shallow cut as he cums deep inside you, his muscles tensing and his hips coming to a halt. 

He pulls out, taking the knife from your throat and putting it to the side. He flops down onto the bed as you roll over to face him, the two of you holding each other, not caring of the sweat that coats your bodies. As Michael pulls the blankets over the two of you, he lifts his mask just enough to plant a kiss on your throat, right where his knife sat.

[guttedwhxre]

If it isn't to much trouble could I get a part 2 to this

https://at.tumblr.com/guttedwhxre/how-theyd-get-rid-of-you-multiple-slashers/fxizdaigb1rq

Where they regret it?

hmmm, you might not like my answer anon! for context, this is part two of these headcanons! enjoy <3

tw: cheating, violence

ARE THEY SORRY? - jennifer check, michael a. myers, billy loomis and stu macher, jesse cromeans

JENNIFER may come back…eventually. if she can prove to herself that she won’t accidentally harm you in some way, she’ll work up the courage to confront you again - not once apologizing, instead poutily demanding you let her back in. 

if you say YES, she’ll be elated, quickly resuming your relationship as if nothing happened. late one night, when she thinks you’re asleep she’d apologize. don’t say anything, just let her have her moment. 

if you say NO, thankfully she wouldn’t get violent. jennifer would stiffen up and grow cold, just like before as she whisked away from you - and you’d never hear from her again.

if you tell her YOU NEED TIME, she’d acquiesce - BUT she’ll never leave you alone. essentially you’d gain a pseudo-stalker, she’s everywhere you are and somehow is always finding a way into your house - making conversation and prodding/teasing at you like before. whether or not you tolerate this is up to you, but trust me, without an answer she’d be hard to get rid of. 

MICHAEL wouldn’t feel sorry. plain and simple anon, i’m sorry to break it to you. it would take A LOT to get michael to a breaking point, as he has learned to be a very patient man, and believe it or not he often managed to dole out a little bit more just for you. whether you’re alive or not matters little to him now, just stay out of his way. should you ever run into him, pretend like you didn’t see him, and he’ll do you just the same. 

BILLY AND STU could feel regret. possibly. it’s not entirely in their nature but once they see the streets ain’t shit and you were the only one that would ever truly be there for the both of them, they might come groveling back - now that’s if they cheat on you! if they feel as if you’ve broken their trust, safe to say they’re never coming back - and if they do, it’s not for a fun little reunion. so, the only reason they’d come back is if they cheated - they’d show up in your bedroom late one night, stu coming in through your door and billy your window. they’d lay by you however long it took for you to awaken, breathing heavily and giggling as they keep making eye contact with each other. you’ll wake up to the unpleasant surprise of their gazes raking over your face, as they then proceed to ask, no, insist that you take them back. 

if you say YES, stu will smile with glee, pumping his fist in the air as billy’s hand slowly begins to slide down your thigh, stu’s hand finding purchase at your hips to squeeze shortly after. que a night of some of the roughest sex of your life, only to find the bed devoid of two men in the morning. there’s a 50/50 chance of you still finding the duo in your house at all - if you do, well, lucky you - if not, i mean, this wasn’t the best judgment call was it? 

if you say NO then stu quickly frowns, billy scowling at you as he scoffs and sits up. que the sludge of the most demeaning things the brunet can think of spilling out of his mouth, poking at your insecurities and raging about how much of an ungrateful slut/f-slur/piece of shit you are. stu will giggle not-so-silently in the background, the weight of the men lifting from the bed as they leave. from there on out, your life is a living hell for as long as it takes them to get bored - slashed tires, dead animals in your house, if you have anything compromising or personal stored on any of your computers that is sent to your place of work, parents, etc. just don’t react. they’re essentially trying to make you a prisoner in your own life, so do your best to take it all in stride - or get far away for a long, long time. these two are not for the weak. 

if you say that YOU NEED MORE TIME, they are not understanding and demand an answer right away - don’t think they won’t stoop so low as to put a knife to your throat, or verbally threaten to kill you. answers under duress are still answers, after all.

JESSE, like michael, probably wouldn’t regret it at all either. unlike the shape, he’d think about the ‘what-ifs’ and what life would be like if you were still alive, but none of it is out of regret. more like a wistful sense of pity he has for you being such an idiot. he was sure to make you suffer before you died. occasionally, he’ll put on the tape he took of your brutal death - just to reminisce. 

xoxo, babe 💋

[gothgirlmahi]

Halloween Screams

Pairing: Michael Myers x Reader

Summary: Desperate times call for desperate measures. Your friends are on the run from Michael so you offer yourself up as a distraction. And hey, up close Michael is kind of…hot?

Warnings: homicide, unprotected sex

Word Count: 1.3K

…

You had always been a fan of autumn. Leaves falling, seasonal foods, fun holidays.

You loved Halloween. Always had. Since moving here a little over a year ago, you noticed something a little strange happening on Halloween. Reports of a strange figure no one could catch a glimpse of or even prove they existed, a supposed killer.

Maybe it was morbid curiosity or maybe you were just stupid enough to fuck around and find out. So you rounded up half a dozen of your new friends to go camping. They were mostly skeptics, believing that the killer was nothing more than a scary story. You started to believe it too until, just after midnight, you heard a scream. The seven of you scrambled from your tents in the woods, feverishly looking around to see where the noise had come from.

Then you saw him.

You could barely make out the figure shrouded in moonlight. Holding a knife covered in…that was definitely blood. And he was definitely walking toward you at a strangely leisurely pace.

Your group erupted in screams and scattered despite you yelling for them not to split up. You quickly grabbed your flashlight from your tent and ran off aimlessly, just trying to get out of sight of the blood soaked man. You could hear the heavy footsteps of your friends scattered across the woods, faintly thinking of how they would make extremely easy targets. It’s like they weren’t even trying.

When you thought you were far off, you heard a scream somewhere to your right.

“Please, no! Ahhh!”

Assuming that was one of your group, they were definitely a goner. A couple minutes later, another scream rang out.

You ran until you were exhausted, looping around and losing what direction you were headed in. You were lost and too exhausted to run much further. While you stopped to catch your breath, the snapping of a twig caught your attention. You turned and saw him not far away, steadily walking towards you. So that was how he did it? No need to run, just let his victims tire themselves out.

You pumped yourself up with what little strength you had left and bolted. You ran until you saw a little cabin, hoping there was a back door you could zip out of and lose him. As soon as you got in the door, you realized you were well and truly fucked. The cabin had no back door, just a small living and kitchen area with a bed at the back of the space. You ran toward the bed, thinking you could hide under it but he was already on your heels, busting through the door behind you.

A little gasp escaped you as you turned to see him stalking toward you with his knife in hand.

You reached down to the hem of your shirt and pulled it over your head, throwing it on the ground. This gave him pause, he stood there with his head slightly turned to the side.

You shimmied out of your pants and he took a step back.

You crawled onto the bed, laying back and spreading your legs. Showing him how your underwear was practically clung to you with how wet you were.

He stood there for a moment before he turned to leave the cabin. Before he was out of the door, you were up and pulling him back in with surprising strength.

“I have waited all year for this. I brought you those idiots as a fucking sacrifice. You’re just going to walk away?”

He tilted his head again, in which you assumed was an expression of confusion but it was hard to tell with the mask on.

You stepped back, finally taking your bra off and peeling your panties away from your slick folds.

“Michael, come on. I know you want me,” you said.

He started breathing heavily, eyes going down until they landed on your bare chest.

“You can touch them if you want,” you encouraged, “you can do anything you want to me. Fuck any hole you want.”

Michael dropped the knife and stalked forward slowly, his gaze still on your chest. He brought his hands up and cupped your tits in his hands, eventually squeezing them and pinching at your erect nipples.

You slid your hand down to palm at his crotch over his clothes, rubbing until you felt a very sizeable bulge forming under your palm. Whatever he had under there was long and thick. Much bigger than anything you’d ever had before.

You licked your lips in excitement.

Michael took one hand off of your breast to reach behind you and squeeze at your ass. He jiggled a cheek in his hand before pulling away to slap at it. You pulled at his belt loops, taking him closer to the bed. When the back of your knees hit the mattress, you sat down, scooting up until you were lying down on your back, legs spread.

“I’m so fucking wet for you,” you told him.

Michael pounced on you, quickly flipping you over so you were laid on your front, ass up. He smacked at your ass again. He seemed to really like your ass. You faced the headboard, nearly shaking in anticipation as you heard him unzipping behind you.

The head of his cock pressed against your wet folds and you gasped as he rubbed it in circles against your clit. You were so sensitive and so ready to take him. You reached behind yourself eagerly, positioning him to slide into you. His hands fell to your hips and he pushed his entire length into you in one hard thrust.

He didn’t wait for you to adjust to his considerable size, he just went for it.

The angle was immaculate. He was hitting spots that had you screaming out, echoing off the walls of the small cabin. The bed frame was roughly hitting the wall each time he pushed into you.

You took a shape intake of breath every time he hit your g-spot and God he hitting it on every thrust.

He wasn’t much much noise other than a few light grunts but you were yelling out like, well, like you were being murdered. But the only thing Michael was murdering was that pussy.

You came hard, feeling the quick spurt of liquid cover your thighs and Michael’s. This seemed to spur him on further as he leaned his chest against your back and pounded your sensitive cunt. You were squirming from overstimulation and burying your face in your hands. At this point, he was somehow hitting an even better angle and it had you careening toward another orgasm.

You slid your hand down the front of your body, two fingers pressed against your clit and rubbing tight circles. When your squirming became too much, Michael took both of your hands in one of his behind your back and held you down with his hips alone. His free hand came down to your clit and your eyes rolled back at the rough pace he set.

One, two, three thrusts and you were coming again. Completely out of it, you were begging for him to cum inside you.

“I want your cum so badly, I want you to fucking fill me!”

Sex had never felt this good.

It was worth every single one of those idiots you had to sacrifice to get Michael’s attention

Behind you, his hips stuttered and he let out a strangled groan before pressing deeply into you. He came, the warm liquid filling you with satisfaction as your goal was completed.

When the two do you were done, he pulled off of you, standing from the bed. You turned around, with a seductive smile gracing your features.

“Same time next year?”

....

Mahi's Monster Mash

[sonicfanthenightfury5099]

Werewolf! Michael Myers NSFW Alphabet

Since you all loved my HC for Werewolf Michael, here's an NSFW alphabet for him.

Update: Had to do some edits and a bit of fixing.

A=Aftercare (What they're like after sex?):

Michael is going to lick himself next, then you next till you say you're heading into the shower after the cool down by then he'll follow you there. Michael will cuddle up with you in his arms and kiss you all over. While he calls you beautiful, caressing your arm and cheek.

B=Bodypart (what's his favorite and yours?):

This is a Werewolf you're dating here. Michael uses his Teeth and Claws to tear apart his victims when he hunts.

Your Michael myers mate your face is his favorite, looking into your eyes with his is favorite past time. Favorite place to kiss both in human and Wolf form.

C=Cum (Anything to do with cum?):

He's going to stay inside till you get every last drop. He has a breeding kink, so you're getting cream pies each time, especially when he turns into his wolf forme he's stuck until that knot has shrunken.

D=Dirty Secret (Pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs?)

To Fuck you in the Deep Woods covered in Deer blood is his dirty fantasy that he wants turned into reality. The thought of seeing your naked body on top with streaks and hand/paw prints from his hands makes him feral.

E=Experience (Any at all? Do they know what their doing?):

Nope. But he learned from the teenagers who were bonking before he tore them apart after they were done.

F=Favorite Position (What's their go to?):

Missionary is his vanilla position he loves to do. You're moaning and groaning under his body as he rolls his hip into you. Doggie Style is another position he can switch when having sex, but when he gets rough on his thrusting, he starts to change into his Werewolf self as he slams his knot onto your cunt. Cowgirl, he likes the feeling of you bouncing on him. The Mating Press is where the breeding kink kicks in when he's ready to bust he'll get you into the position and thrusts so fast he'll fill your womb up with his seed.

G=Goofy (Are they more Serious in the moment, or are they humorous, ect?):

He's in between serious and goofy. His wolfy part of him just comes out while during sex but he's serious during the act.

H=Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes?)

He's got Curly Dark brown hair on top, and downstairs isn't too bad, just a bit shaggy. But in Wolf form, he's covered in dark brown fur with light fur underneath. He's totally covered down there.

I=Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect?)

His form of romance is a gift of a deer that he caught for you (It's dead, BTW). You'll probably have to do some butching on that deer for dinner. Michael, when he's out, will collect wild flowers for you. Imagine seeing him with a bouquet of flowers when he comes home from hunting. One time, he caught a rabbit, but he never killed it, but it's just injured by him. Michael will ask if you want to go for a ride but not in the car but on his back in the woods of Haddonfield in Wolf form, bring a basket for a picnic if he finds a good spot. 😉

J=Jack/Jill off (masturbation cannon)

Pumping his snake once in a while sometimes squeezing his knot in Werewolf form, but not too often, he's saving up for breeding that night.

K=Kinks (What kind of kinks they have?)

Breeding Kink, the thought of having pups with you drives him feral.

L=Location (Where do they want to do it?)

The bedroom is the best place. 👌 But still wants that deep woods sex one of these days.

M=Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going?)

Thinking about impregnating you with a little litter of Pups is one motive. Michael gets turned on by the scent of your wetness, or the scent of you on your period is another point. Michael would be killing, then eating a victim till the thought of you popped into his 8ft Wolf brain (The gif above is the type of Werewolf Michael is), and he's done he'll make his way back home for some sexy time.

N=No (Something they wouldn't do, turn-offs?)

No mentioning the time at Smith's Grove Sanatorium, he was treated poorly there when he's in his Wolf forme, Cattle prods were used on him when he's blood thirsty. If you ask him to bite you when in wolf form to infect you with his curse, he won't do it. You're perfect to him as you are beside who doesn't have a hubby that's part man part wolf.

O=Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skills, ect?)

He's a giver, eating you for what feels like forever both in human and Wolf. His tongue on your cunt is making circles on your clit too and stretching your opening.

Giving him oral isn't an issue in his human form, but when he's in between changing, it might be complicated to deepthroat his wolfish Cock especially with that knot near his balls.

69ing with his guy isn't tricky, but be careful if he starts to thrust into your mouth.

P=Pace (Are they Fast and Rough or Slow and Passionate?)

More vanilla to start slow at first before going feral later in fucking. Michael will start with a slightly rough fast round before going slow and passionate in later rounds. When he's close to bust, he'll pick up his pace in the Mating Press.

Q=Quickies (Their opinions on Quickies rather than proper sex, how often, ect?)

Loves them when he's human, but ain't happening in Wolf form.

R=Risks (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, ect ?)

Are you dating the Beast of Haddonfield, one risk is the teeth and claws he has in Wolf form. He still has that dirty fantasy of Fucking in the woods very spicy if you don't get caught fucking in the dark woods with him. Him just straight up fucking you in his homo-Lupus for is one risk he'll take cautiously don't want to rip your holes into one big one.

S=Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, How long can they last?)

Again, Werewolf, he can last long inside you. 6 to 8 rounds he'll go for, and that on occasion morning round if he's or you're needy.

T=Toys (Do they own toy? D o they use them or no?)

Finding your sex toys thinking their a chew toy till you told him what those are. "You put this in your whoha?? I thought I gave you enough pleasure?" Get him a Cock ring so you can spicy things up in the bedroom, it being under his knot.

U=Unfair (How much do they like to tease?)

That Man could be hunting till next month as his way of teasing. Another form is the classic rub his pre cum head up and down your slit till your begging gets to him.

V=Volume (How loud are they? What sounds they make?)

Again, Werewolf, he'll be growling and moaning during each round. Do get me started when he busts, he'll howl when his knot is deep in you.

W=Wild Card (Random Headcannon)

Michael definitely loves giving you kisses all over you all day and night. He could give you kisses if you came out of the shower all over you wet naked body.

Will bring home the meat for a month, Deer, moose, rabbit if it's near him he's catching it from you to butcher.

Would take a jar of peanut butter and smear it on your nake body and then lick it off. You'll be getting another jar when you go out for groceries.

When that day comes, you're ready to have his Pups he'll be over the moon, and you're not leaving that bed till he's given you enough of his cum. He's hoping for more than one baby.

X=X-ray (What's going on in those Pants?)

Human: soft, it's 3 inches. Hard it's 6 and 1/2 inches and grithy. Will hit your sweet spot.

Werewolf: hidden under the fur when soft. Hard it's a big girthy boy with a knot near his balls 9 inches. Will stretch you out completely when it's in all the way.

Y=Yearning (How high is there sex drive?)

Again, Werewolf. He's open 24/7 for sex when free.

Z=Zzzz (How quick they fall asleep afterwards?)

After that shower with you and dried off, he's going to be the big spoon to you. He'll be off to sleep later after you.

[fourtyfourcatss]

[████████ 100%] — @thecurrator !

Silence interrupted with love;

YOUR BLUE LOCK MATCHUP IS…

ᝰᏪຊ itoshi rin

ຊ why itoshi rin?

The logistical reasoning as to why you fit so well with this man is because of your myers-Briggs types. Rin is INTJ, and your intuitive and judging functions are shared, and thus, the two of you can understand each other’s perspectives and goals well. His enneagram also means that he values your knowledge and independence, which both attracts him to you for not being a very irritatingly clingy person, and having a mind which can match his own.

ຊ he is very authentic and creative person, to himself and to others. You could probably tell from how rebellious he is because of how he follows his own agenda when it comes to doing things. He’s a soccer player, which involves a lot more strategy that blue lock itself explores, but as one who is trying to find a way to score a goal, being put into high stress situations, you bet he is extremely creative. And he definitely would not cut you off whenever you’re talking - not only does he barely talk himself sometimes - but he is definitely a considerate person to someone he adores off the field. Not only that, he would respond with insight and humor, and would know when to play up his deadpan and make you laugh and lighten up your mood.

ຊ would definitely find the mind reading thing weird at the first few times, but it surprisingly becomes a factor of how the two of you bond. He isn’t the type to express himself a lot verbally, and that itself incurs some kind of communication which he enjoys you reading into. He thinks your emotional intelligence is very practical, and since you like analyzing, I think he would ask your opinion or advice on opponents he wants to study. To that end, he grows fond of your voice. He can also offer your different perspectives with your analysis and turn it into a very in-depth conversation, which scratches both of your brains.

ຊ he is rather wanting of your attention, and with your introversion, he is the one who approaches very boldly. I can imagine you reading or writing near the corner of a cafe, waiting for your friends to arrive when he suddenly approaches you and sort of in his own awkward way, want to know you better— though it must be only after a lot of previous meetings and conversation. The more he gets to know you, the more understanding he wants to acquire of the facets in your personality. Additionally, while he is not big on words of affirmations, he definitely does a lot of acts of services.

ຊ I did not include much about hobbies because they two share little hobbies, but he supports you 100% in everything you do! He would watch anime and try to impress you with clothes and yarn and the like.

ຊ I would say he’s quite a jealous lover, who is very lowkey possessive, but very lowkey and more of a romantic sense. The way he says things is very passive, and the two of you just fall into this soft romance, with your heart pumping but it falls almost deaf with infatuation clouding your ears instead. You would make him very happy, and with your personality, he would be the one who is most often pouty. Definitely goes to you after a bad day and lays on your lap to de-stress, and just get very soft and mushy around you.

YOUR TWST WONDERLAND MATCHUP IS…

ᝰᏪຊ lilia vanrouge

ຊ why lilia?

There are many reason why he is a very suitable character for you. Firstly, I wanted to pair you up with someone who is outgoing in order to balance out your introversion, as that itself can become a problem in some circumstances. Not only that, he would be able to approach you first, which may not work so well if your partner if more introverted like you are. Lilia is very charming, elegant, and mysterious. He can most likely catch your attention very well, and yet, he is also gentle and compassionate in disposition if you knew his story. He might be a good match for you because he can understand your emotions and dreams with his deep and poetic soul. He can also appreciate your authenticity and creativity, and he might share your hobbies of reading, writing, and listening to music.

ຊ this old piece of bones can definitely appreciate you for what you are, and find you very charming, from the expressions your face makes and and unimpressed glamor that always makes its way across your demeanor. He takes it as a sign to try to get you to smile as much as possible, and checks in on you often, as he is as taken by you as you may become taken by him. The way his smile curves is very attractive too, and makes you wish to smile many times, lighting up the mood with his antics.

ຊ he’s an a-class gentleman! He would never interrupt you, or disrespect you in any manner. Rather, he makes you feel like a very loved royal, taking care of you by asking you if you have worn enough clothes in the winter and lending you some he has packed, or brushing leaves out of your hair during the autumn months. And because of how classy he is, he can definitely appreciate enjoying the arts. He too, loves reading, and enjoys curling next to you while the two of you watch shows or listen to audiobooks together. Slow dancing to old music is also a must; and I believe he would teach you very gently. The way he treats you is as if you are a precious object, yet the relationship is not all so plain— there is very adventurous moments from his boldness, and while it gets your heart racing like you are reeling, it feels worth it at the end, and fulfilling to be around him.

ຊ he finds your hobbies very endearing. He strikes me as the type to also enjoy crocheting, especially paired with another activity, like watching television together.

ຊ he would love discussing characters and plots and all manner of things with you. He definitely thinks it’s wondrous how you have found so many things regarding characters from perhaps just a few scenes or dialogue, and he’s mystified with how well you read people. He thinks it’s a magic of its own.

ຊ definitely gives you cute pet names, but not too drastic, like “honey” or “darling”. I feel like when you are fixated with doing something like writing or reading, he would sneak up on you and try to scare you a bit. He’s just a very sweet man, and you seem like a very sweet person, and I think that just goes so well. The two of you can make each other genuinely happy.

[noobichan-blog]

Halloween 1981 (+18)

TRIGGER WARNING

Pairing: Michael Myers x Reader

Summary: someone visits you tonight!

WARNINGS: Smut, rape, somnophilia , p-in-v , 18 + only, Minors DNI, porn without plot, (don’t judge me, you looked this shit up)

A/N: sry english is not my first language, not proof reading, this is my first time writing smut ! its maybe shitty

The day was long and exhausting , first the stress on the work and then the traffic on the streets. Halloween is definitely not your favourite holiday. You´re glad you finally got home. You always seem a little sad these days, is it because you are unmarried, mid-30 without children? Or is it because you haven´t had a really good fuck for a long time. Sighing , you put your things down and go straight into the bathroom to take a well-deserved bath.

An hour later you are snuggled up in your favourite jams on the couch, switching through the channels on your tv in search of something interesting. Every now and then the doorbell rings and you hand out sweets to children in different costumes. Since you live on the outskirt of Haddonfield you tend to have less visitors . Calm is slowly returning and you can go back on your couch. At some point you notice how tired you are and how you slide into sleep, you don´t notice how the back door slowly and quietly opens .

The door shut quietly, dull steps move towards the couch. You breathe softly in your sleep, don´t get that a man is standing at your feet, watching you intently. Your dream is heavy and overwhelming , when its get too heavy to breathe you open your eyes. You look into a white face , no into a mask. The stranger lies on top of you , a hand in your pants caresses your slit, the other around your neck. You tried to scream but he squeeze his hand tighter around your neck , at that moment you fell how he parts your lips with his hand and pushes his middle finger inside you. It hurts and you try to turn away, the stranger finally let go of your throat . You take a deep breath. The stranger pulls up your shirt up until your breasts are exposed in front of him, tears well up in your eyes . You desperately try to pull your shirt down, but he is stronger and rips your shirt off your body. Soft whines come from your mouth while he is still pumping you with his finger at bestial speed. A feeling of white noises spreads trough you and the tension in your abdomen increases as he begins to circle your clit with his thumb. "Please...Ahh p..please". You don´t know what you´re asking for , just don´t let it stop. Loud moans fill the room as a phenomenal orgasm erupts in you, you´re trembling, toes curling up . Your walls clamping down , spasming around his finger: the stranger pumps you trough your orgasm , breathing heavily you try to pull his hands away .The stranger gets up , grabs your pants by the waistband and pulls them of your legs, startled you start to tremble as the cold air hits your swollen clit . In the dim light of your tv , you can see how the stranger is staring at you , almost consuming while he unzip his overall. His cock jumps out of his pants big, swollen red with lust . The stranger press your legs up against your chest , till your cunt is spread. He begins to slide his cock along your slit until its at your wet, throbbing hole. Slowly he pushes his cock inside you, it hurts and you try to struggle against his size. You´re hands press against his chest , you try to force him to pause. The stranger grabs your hip so hard you know it will leave marks , in a bestial motion he enters you . The size of his cock tears you apart , stretch your cunt wide . A silent scream comes out of your throat when he starts pounding into you at a wild pace. The stranger release one hand from your hip to pull his mask over his lips , he leans forward to wrap his mouth around your nipple . Your nipple goes straight hard against his tongue , he bites hard , loud moans come out of you while his cock destroy your spongy point in your cunt . You feel how a second orgasm is looming , your moaning becoming more and more uncontrolled, saliva is running down your chin. You wraps your arms around him, trying to get hold as he tucks his head in your neck. He bites your neck hard , that your second orgasm breaks over you, your whole body trembles . Your cunt milks his cock, with loud moans he pump his load inside your cunt , paints your inner white . You notice how softer it becomes in you , you remain in this position , your mixed liquids run out of your swollen pussy onto the couch. You let out a soft moan as the stranger pulls his cock out of you, your body heavy and your head foggy as you watch the stranger straighten everything up and just leave , without a last look or word

When you open your eyes the next morning, everything hurts while you look around. Your pants on the ground , shirt torn an semen on your inner thighs. You hope he comes back next Halloween.!

Happy Halloween

[bluecoolr]

You Ain't Goin' Nowhere

Darrell arrives in Ambrose. [Part 4/5]

Links to part 1 2 3 5

Warnings: self-proclaimed executioner with god complex comes to terms with being pseudo-adopted into a murders-for-funsies-but-sometimes-for-love family but there’s drama because his older brother/uncle-figure doesn’t like him all that much, so slasher-typical violence and gore, allusions to murder, jealous! and insecure!Vincent

A/N: OK I THOUGHT THIS WAS GONNA BE THE LAST PART BUT IT GOT TOO LONG. New (and old 👀) characters are introduced. As always, bold is ASL. HOPE YOU ENJOY!

Featuring the Sinclairs, RZ Michael Myers, and the ocs of @the-pinstriped-hood (Percy), @probably-a-plant-thing (Skulk), @slaasherslut (Ava). Ellie and Alia are also mentioned <3

Tagging some moots who might wanna see this! @rottent33th @vincent-sinclair-deserved-better @cries-in-latino @kalid-raven @angxlslasher @allthingsblood

“You don’t believe me?”

“Vinny,”

Anger made Vincent's fingers stutter as he signed.

"You won't take my word for it? Why? Why, Bo? Do you trust him more than me? I'm your brother."

Bo took Vincent's hands in his, shushing him. "You are my brother. Nothing or no one would change that, but - tsk - listen to yourself. I know havin' people over is a new concept to you, but don't you think you're getting a li'l too carried away?"

He was looking at him like a raving lunatic, with that oh-poor-you frown wrinkling his brow. Vincent's breath hitched. He balled his fists and shook his twin off.

Bo regarded him sternly, like a silly misbehaving child. "Vincent," he warned.

Vincent grabbed the back of his chair and threw it back. It clattered against the tool chest.

"See for yourself, then." His one blue eye bulged in its socket. "Watch for the signs."

Bo watched him storm out of the garage and melt into the shadows beyond the pumps.

Darrell, a murderer? Where on earth did he get that?

Bo shook his head, raised his beer bottle to his lips, stopped. He glanced in the direction Vincent had gone.

Lesley Reinhart was settling into his sixties. Without much difficulty, one must note. If anything, he was in better shape than he ever was.

He was tall, broad-shouldered, with a muscular body that could put any recent police academy graduate to shame. Before he got out of his car - a sleek Porsche picked out of the city impound - he brushed back his hair and adjusted his tie.

His jaw clenched when he heard a wet squelch after he put one foot out. Mud. On his newly polished dress shoes.

It wasn't like he didn't know there was a growing hurricane, thought Hernandez as he trudged through the mud-strewn forest floor. He never understood how people grew vainer the closer they got to kicking the bucket.

The two men followed the well-trodden path to the shack the local townsfolk said was home to the last person who saw the missing teens.

They came upon the place. A sad brick and wood structure with an askew porch, which was lit by an amber light bulb. A loud humming told Hernandez the place ran on generator power.

Reinhart raised his voice. "Daniel Ray Williams?"

The scraggly boy who was chopping firewood stopped and lowered his ax. He took a cautious step back as the two men approached.

"Tread lightly, Moses, for the ground you walk on is holy ground… or some shit." A man, hidden by the shadow and fog, made his presence known. He sat on a rusty white-painted metal chair on the porch, smoking a hastily rolled cigarette. "Let's back you up, gentlemen," he said, "Off my property."

"Mr. Williams," began Reinhart, "my name is Lesley Rein-"

"Earl."

An impatient smirk tugged at the corner of Reinhart's thin lips. "My name is Lesley Reinhart. I'm a detective with the NOPD. This is my partner Detective Hernandez." He flashed his badge.

"Figured," said Earl, unimpressed.

"We're just here to ask Daniel Williams a couple of questions," Hernandez explained, adopting a more reasonable tone.

"That's my kid brother." Dan had made his calm, collected way up the steps and was now standing next to Earl. "Got a stutter. He don't talk much on account of it. You wanna know anythin', you ask me."

"This is about Brody Morgan and Carter Green," said Reinhart.

"Yeah, I heard about 'em. Got a dozen or so bluecoats sweeping the woods yesterday with dogs and whatnot."

Reinhart persisted. "We were hoping to get a statement out of Daniel, about what happened at the gas station."

Earl folded his arms over his chest. "Well, if you already know he was at the gas station, I'm sure you know what them boys did."

"We were also hoping he'd tell us about the attendant who was working there the day Brody and Carter disappeared."

Earl tipped his head and raised one wild eyebrow. "Why, he a suspect?"

Reinhart grew more impatient. "I'm afraid I can't divulge that."

"Level with me here, hoss."

"We'll be asking the questions here, Mr. Williams."

"Dan a suspect? Am I? Mighty convenient for you to have a bunch o' dirt-poor hillbillies to pin it down on."

"Respectfully, sir," piped up Hernandez, "Everyone who was within the area during the crime's occurrence is, and nothing was stolen-"

Reinhart shut him up with an authoritative wave of the hand. "Mr. Williams, I can charge you with criminal misdemeanor for refusing to cooperate," he barked.

Earl smiled. "I can also legally shoot you for trespassin', and so long as I claim fear of bodily harm the law is on my side."

It was at this point the two realized that the object leaning against Earl's chair was a shotgun and not a cane.

"We ain't got nothin' for ya, gentlemen," he said definitively. "Be a little more willin' if you'd done the same for every person that's disappeared from this mountain these past few decades, not just for city slickers whose daddies got dough."

Reinhart, seething from the insolence, turned away and marched back the way they came.

Hernandez braved Earl's hostile stare and placed his card on the damp porch. "Should you change your mind," he said. "Give me a call."

Earl leaned forward and read the name printed on the expensive cardstock.

Angel Hernandez

When the men had gone, he brought out his cellphone and sent a warning message to Skulk.

They're comin' up to the trailer, boy. Make yourself scarce.

Skulk had a habit of stealing Darrell's hoodies. They smelled like him and were warm, which was great for the weather they currently had going.

He got the message just as the detectives broke through the bushes. They narrowly passed him, sitting in a thicket as he was. Jebediah the little piglet, was sleeping soundly in his lap, remnants of a treat still hanging from his snout.

Skulk watched the detectives inspect Darrell's empty trailer. The older one kicked some of the sweet potatoes the naughty boars had dug from the vegetable patch. Skulk opened his and Darrell's conversation, filled with lewd little nothings they had sent back and forth. He typed:

On a more serious note, darling - there's pigs snooping about the trailer and not the usual kind.

The younger detective brought out a flashlight and peered through the tinted windows.

Had he locked the door?

Carefully shifting to his feet, though still remaining crouched, Skulk unsheathed his knife. Vibrating from the thrill of a possible kill, he waited. The second those cops opened the door, he would break cover. He could take them. One after the other.

The bigger man made him hesitate, but he was going to try. He'd left clothes there - unwashed clothes and tools of the trade. They all tried to be careful, but who's to say for certain the detectives won't find anything?

"Try the door," said one of them.

Jebediah stirred. The underbrush gave as Cristabella, grunting, arrived to take her brother home. Skulk bit his lip and held her mouth shut.

Incensed, Cristabella shook Skulk off. Her attention shifted to the strangers, and began to growl.

"What was that?"

Bellowing, Cristabella charged right at them. She bowled through them, knocking them clean off their feet. She was at them again, ramming her cutter tusks at their torsos. Clothes were shredded, yells rang, but the men were quick to get on their feet and they eventually got away.

Skulk watched, the squealing piglet under his arm, as Cristabella snorted in satisfaction as if to say Come back with a warrant.

—

Ava, Bo, and Darrell liked to hang out at the garage. Winds were picking up, blowing from the coast. Establishments were closed. Folk were told to remain indoors.

Ava and Darrell sat together while Bo tinkered with the engine of a sedan. He'd been trying to make it work for the past week. He couldn't fathom what he was doing wrong. The out of key strumming Darrell was doing on Ava's beat up acoustic wasn't helping.

Fed up, Bo unstuck his head from under the hood and winced at the two.

"Darrell, Darrell," he groaned. "You're never gonna learn to play with those clumsy fingers. Give that dang thing back to Ava."

Ava giggled and took her guitar back. "Don't listen to him," she told Darrell. "You'll get it, but won't you sing with me a while?"

She positioned her willowy fingers on the fretboard. Darrell returned her pick and she began to play.

Once the intro passed, Darrell followed through. The way the two friends' voices melded together was ethereal. Bo stopped in his tracks.

You go down just like Holy Mary

Mary on a, Mary on a cross

Mary on a, Mary on a cross

"Your beauty never ever scared me" Surprised, Ava looked up. She'd never heard Bo sing before. His voice was clear and cool, but higher in pitch than his speaking voice.

All three of them sang the last lines together, voices blending into a lovely harmony.

"Didn't know you had that in you," Ava teased.

Bo smirked and turned away. "Stick to singing, Darr. Leave the music to Ava."

To thwart the attention from himself, Bo turned up the radio. They listened attentively to another weather update, which was followed by a local news report.

Meanwhile, at Devil's Peak, the search for missing college students, Brody Morgan and Carter Green, continues. Police authorities race against the oncoming hurricane to uncover as much information about the boys' current whereabouts.

Brody Morgan is the son of media mogul, Arthur Morgan. Detective Lesley Reinhart assures the public that the New Orleans Police Department is doing everything in its power to find the boys.

Bo's ears burned. Three paces away, Darrell continued to sing softly to Ava's guitar, but he could see it: a tremble of the lip, a glassy faraway look in the eye. Guilt. Worry.

Darrell appeared to have not heard, but Bo knew he was listening closely.

That night, Bo roused Vincent out of bed, like a spectre at his bedside. They came to a shaky agreement behind the house.

"If we do it now, it'll be the end of it."

"Wait. I'm not too sure. Let me talk to him."

Vincent scoffed - a harsh nasal puff. "You think he'll admit to it? Idiot."

Bo grabbed him by the shirt. "You don't move til I say you can."

—

All was quiet and gray the next day. Percy sat at the dining table, her fingers clacked busily on the keyboard as she wove a new chapter. She peered over her glasses at the amassing clouds from the window. "This must be what they mean by 'the calm before the storm'," she remarked. 

Darrell was sitting in the chair next to her, poring over one of the books she had written. "You made Halloran look like Bo," he noted with an amused smile. 

"I did." She watched him fondly. She reached over and pushed a stray strand of hair from his face. "You know what, maybe I should give Halloran a sidekick." 

Darrell looked up, brown eyes gleaming. 

"I think I have an idea on what he might look like."

Darrell put down the book and rested his chin on her shoulder. He squinted at the walls of text on her document. "That's a whole lotta words, Momma," he sighed. 

Percy smiled, feeling rather proud of herself. "No big feat, to me. What do you think so far?"

Darrell gave it a good, careful read. He sighed softy, blown away. "Shucks, I dunno how you do it." 

There was an urgent hammering at the window. Michael stood outside. He held a grubby baseball in his hand. 

"Be right back, Momma," said Darrell. 

"Hey, Mikey," he said at the door. "Don't think it's good weather to play catch in. Alia won't approve." 

Michael stared up at him, lips sealed. He tilted his head and raised the ball again. His posture hinting that he wasn't asking. 

"Ok." 

Darrell took the ball and the glove he had brought. In their game, Darrell was the only one who did the throwing and catching. Michael would hit the ball as hard as he could with a bat, and watch as Darrell struggled to catch it. Peak entertainment. 

"Further?" Darrell called from down the street, the House of Wax behind him. 

Michael kept pointing at him to go further. He was going to knock the ball right out of town. Darrell reeled back and pitched. The bat hit the ball with a deafening thwack!

It rode the air like a comet. Arching high, Darrell knew chasing after it was futile. Then, it dipped, whistling, and crashed through one of the lower windows of the House of Wax. 

The glove slipped off of Darrell's hand. Michael turned on his heels and let the bat clatter on the street. In case they incurred Vincent's wrath, he was detaching himself from the incident. 

Darrell picked his way through the wasteland of discarded car parts, cut through a crack in a wooden fence, and entered the House of Wax. 

The door swung right open and he crossed the slightly dusty threshold. He was greeted by a main room glowing with yellow lamps, filled with intricate carvings that he knew for a fact were all wax. In an odd trick of the eye, the bulbs seemed to fill the room with shadow more than light. The result was dismal and bleak. 

Darrell's thoughts strayed unhappily as he eyed the sculptures. It was as though the misery stored in that room was seeping into his bones. Distracted, he went from one display to another, admiring the detail of each handiwork.

Vincent was so talented. He and Ellie went together perfectly. If only he could understand what he had done that made him so angry. 

There was a rapid clicking on the floor. He recognized it at once as the padding of an animal. Jonesy, tail wagging and mouth bearing the rogue ball, watched him from a safe distance. 

Darrell dropped to a crouch. "Hey, girl! Good job! Give it here." 

Jonesy tucked tail and ran. 

"Hey, no! Come back!" Darrell gave chase and stumbled from one room to another.  Jonesy girl, no! I'm not supposed to be in here."

He came upon the back of the building, past an elaborately decorated dining room, and into a doorway that led to the basement. 

There were sconces in the walls, housing steadily burning candles. Embedded among these were different faces, each with a unique expression. Darrell followed the faces upwards and looked overhead. Spanning the ceiling, her eight spindly legs astride the stairway, was Arachne - Horrid, freakish, and beautiful all at once. Face smooth with youth. Bosom full and immodestly bare. Eyes hungry. Head held high with pride. 

"What is this place?" muttered Darrell. 

Bark! Jonesy had dropped the ball at the bottom of the stairs. 

Darrell crept down the steps. As he was reaching for the ball, Jonesy's jaws snapped at his wrist and she made off with the ball again. He walked into the room. It felt like a furnace. Great, big cauldrons of wax hung on chains over large fires. Knives, saws, and sculpting tools hung on the walls. A bloodstained steel table stood in the middle of the room. 

But worst of all, there was a figure - human-shaped - suspended in a macabre iron contraption.  

Darrell was pulled to it by some sick fascination. He thought he could see the glimmer of an eye under the rough wax, blue and bright. He stood inspecting the thing, heart hammering. 

Its fingers twitched, and Darrell screamed. 

He spun around and found himself face to face with Vincent. There was a knife in his hand. 

Darrell interposed the table between them and made a run for the stairs after circling it twice. Vincent tried to grab him by the hair but missed. 

Darell ran right into Michael in the dining room. The taller man stepped in and locked Vincent's wrist in a crushing grip. 

Crack! 

Vincent had landed a punch on Michael's jaw. Michael recovered almost immediately and was able to grab the blade of the knife just as it was about to pierce his side. Blood dribbled onto the floor. 

He changed his hold on the blade, used his free hand to hold Vincent's arm, and knocked the weapon out of his grasp. 

When he looked back, Darrell was gone. He was sprinting down Main Street, sweating, panting, heart hammering. He understood it now - why the town had felt so empty, why the girls had tried to keep him entertained indoors at all times, why the sculptures looked so real. 

Lester found him sitting on the curb sometime after dinner. "Y'alright there, buddy?" he inquired cheerfully. 

Darrell did not respond. 

Lester sat down beside him. "I, uh, heard what happened." 

"S'Mikey ok?" 

"Yep. Didn't feel a thing, Alia said. He's been patched up." Lester took a crumpled pack from his pocket and lit a cigarette. 

"Ya in on it, Les?" 

Lester did not respond.

"Y'know," Lester began, "What we do out here, we been doin' it a long time. An' ya know, you can get used ta anythin' if you're 'round it long enough. It ain't easy to put it down."

He blew the smoke out and brought Darrell's attention to the cigarette. The red glowing tip flickered as he waved it around.

"It's like quitttin', ya know?" he explained, "Ya can't just do it." 

Darrell was nodding. He knew how that felt. 

"Besides, this is my family," Lester added, "I love them. More than anythin'."

Darrell had begun to think of them as his family, too. It had felt too good to be true. 

"Here's one for ya. Those missing kids, d'you do that?"

Darrell glanced sideways at Lester. There was no judgment in his eyes, no hate like in Vinny's. His expression was open, sincere. 

"D'you kill 'em?" 

Darrell resigned himself and said, "Killed more than just them." 

"Are you gonna stay with us?" 

"Can I?" 

"Sure!" 

There was thunder overhead. They raised their eyes to the sky. Lester grinned. "Anyway, with that comin', you ain't goin' nowhere." 

[littlenightma]

October Heat

Warnings: Mature Content, 18+

She'd locked every door and window to her house, checked them twice, before turning off the lights to her living room. The television had been running the news all night, ever since the word that Michael Myers had escaped, again, and their little town of Haddonfield had been suffering for it ever since. It was only on so she could be kept in the loop of things, but the steady increase in bodies discovered made her stomach churn. She eventually turned it off, having heard enough.

She hated to admit it, but she was particularly horny and was quite aware that it was a bad time to do such a thing. The town either holed up in their houses or out on a manhunt searching for Myers. She felt inclined to do something more pro-active, yet the tingling between her thighs was getting harder to resist.

In the privacy of her bedroom, she pulled down the soft cotton of her panties until there was enough room for her fingers to dive freely. They skimmed lower, hovering teasingly over the prized spot. She leaned back against her pillows and closed her eyes as she focused on getting herself to that sweet, sweet precipice, but then her hair bristled, and they shot back open to see him.

Even through the thick fabric of her curtains, the discolored and pale face of his mask was still recognizable. Her movements ceased momentarily before she shuddered at the loss of contact. Pleasure forced the fear away, even when her eyes locked with his through the fog tinted glass.

Michael watched the girl work her hand feverishly beneath the sheets with mild interest. An image of him on his side flashed, hand wrapped firmly around himself with his back to camera to not give a certain voyeuristic doctor the privilege of watching.

Michael felt another kind of thrill when she stared at him and leaned her head back against her pillows, lips parting when a low moan left her lips. His chest lifted with surprise when she didn’t run away or attempt to arm herself with a weapon, choosing to continue with him as an audience.

She didn’t know what was coming over her, touching herself while the killer shamelessly watched. A need tugged in her belly, an adrenaline pumping yearning, and it yearned for him, and she breathed his name into the wind, and Michael vanished like a ghost.

Wood being bent and splintered rung below. She could practically taste his desperation. The drug store locks provided little defense against Michael. He was in the house within seconds, slowly making his way up her stairs, seeking her out like a wolf, hungry with desire, pinning her down on the bed with his feral gaze as he emerged from the hallway. She gulped a ball of saliva down. Not able to voice what she desperately wanted, she uncovered her lower body and spread her legs beneath the dark gaze of the serial murderer. Her eyes were glowing in the darkness, pleading for him to join her.

While Michael never found himself in this sort of situation, it was not difficult for him to conclude what she was asking for. He reached up and unzipped his coveralls, revealing the dark gray t-shirt he wore beneath. He pushed them down until his red headed cock sprung free. At the sight, her body excitedly gushed out a wave of glistening slick.

The bed groaned loudly the more he moved up, aligning his body perfectly with hers. His strong chest trapped her to the mattress. She welcomed his weight, groaning along with the bed. His cock hung directly between her legs, teasing the soft valley of flesh there. She lifted her hips, urging him to go faster. Michael curved into her swiftly, completely engulfed after a few short, experimental thrusts.

She was hot, hotter than the fuming basement and gripped him like a well-fitted mold. The friction sent him into a lustful frenzy. He snapped his hips hard. Her pussy greedily took all of him, suctioning him back into her, meeting his frantic movements with her own. Michael did not take his eyes off the girl, enjoying the way her face contorted as he fucked her.

She gripped the fabric of his shirt in fistfuls, holding on for dear life. His thrusts were becoming more erratic by the minute. Her head would have been dangerously close to making contact with the headboard had it not been for his palm snaking up to cradle it. Her grip suddenly intensified, legs locking around his waist, and her string of moans transformed into a single and long sigh that slowly faded into the night.

His right hand clamped down on her hip in a bruising hold to keep her in place as his own release came. His gritted his teeth, burying himself as deep as he could as his seed jetted into her. Michael let out a muffled and satisfied breath.

He rolled over onto his back beside her, staring up at the ceiling. She curled a few inches away from him, the shame of her actions keeping her at a distance. Her lover was an asylum escapee and murderer. What was she thinking and how was she going to get herself out of this alive?

His chest rose up and down, trying to catch his breath and shake the pain from his aching muscles. Although his body remained in decent shape, he was not as resilient to the outside forces as he used to be, and he hadn't realized how low his physical limits had gotten until he barely managed the escape the Strode woman's fortress. The bruises and gunshot wounds did not concern him, but the burns took an extra toll, and he was paying for it now that the adrenaline was beginning to wear off.

“I can try and fix you up.”

Michael, not showing any indication that he heard her other than the slight turn of his head, remained silent, calculating her through the eye slits of his mask.

“The burns,” she continued, gesturing with her hand, “They look painful.”

They didn’t just look painful. They were painful, and it was weighing him down more than he would have preferred. After several tense moments, he took up her offer, shadowing her to the bathroom.