Michael Myers Imagine - Tumblr Posts
Slashers’ Reaction to Dry Humping
Anonymous: You should do slashers dry-humping!
Jason Voorhees
Sneaky Seducer. Wanting to sit on Jason’s lap? Just ask! He won’t know why you want to do it, but he’s not going to deny you. The second you rock against him, though, prepare yourself. *Hands fly to your waist in alarm* What are you doing?! *Gives you owl eyes*
Some Coaxing Required. *Kneads his thick muscles in hopes he’ll relax his death grip* Please, Jason? I just wanna try something. Darn it. How is he supposed to refuse when you’re looking at him with such longing?
Intimate. How could this feel so good? With you pressed against his chest, gripping onto him like a little barnacle, he wouldn’t know left from right. God, he couldn’t think. All he could do was feel. As you writhe together, he’d wrap his arms around you. Whatever this was, he never wanted it to end. *Face buried in your neck, holds on for dear life as you ride out the storm of pleasure*
Thomas Hewitt
Immediate sweating. *Aroused breathes puffing through his mask* W-What are you doing? Hands shakily clasping your hips, he’d be trembling with tension beneath you. Nevermind, he doesn’t care. Just don’t stop.
Muscle. Head tipped back, he’d bite his lip to keep from groaning as you slide along his clothed cock. God, he could feel your heat. At the sound of your whimpered moan, his gaze would snap to yours. Suddenly, he’d use his strength to press you harder against him, dragging you along his length as he thrusts against you.
Switch. Gazes locked, you’d beg him, “Harder.” And Thomas isn’t the type of man to refuse you, (Y/N). Standing with your wrapped around him, Thomas would stumble to the bed. Once he’s assured you’re comfortable, he’d set to work using his big body to pleasure yours. Is this what you needed, darlin’? You wanted more? *Pumps his hips into yours, eyes rolling back at the feel of your nails digging into his back*
Michael Myers
Distrust. *Narrows eyes* What do you mean you want to sit on him? This may not be the easiest task in the world. Letting him hold his knife should earn you some leeway, though. *Starts to grind against him, watches his entire body melt beneath you*
Definitely a Dom. Knife slipping, Michael would finally cast it aside, moving at lightning speed to reverse your position. *Flips you over, pins you beneath him* There, much better. Wrists held overhead, you’d be helpless as this massive entity towers above you. *Tilts his head to study you*
Prepare Yourself. Michael loves being in control. And what better way to gain control than to learn what makes your toes curl with desire? Simply put, he’d experiment with his thrusts: some slow and deep–languidly grinding into you–others fast and jarring–making you gasp at his strength. Each time he hears you moan, he’ll repeat whatever caused it until you’re literally begging him to let you come.
Brahms Heelshire
No permission needed. There will be no coaxing with this man. Climbing onto his lap? Yes. Don’t you want to know why–? No. *Pulls you closer to straddle his quickly-forming erection.*
Loss of composure. Oh, he’d be a mess–but he’s your mess. Writhing beneath you, he’d whimper and moan, begging you not to stop. You feel so good, (Y/N). *Gives guttural moan* Oh, just like that. Don’t stop. Please, don’t stop. *Tightens his hold*
Lots of praise. Prepare for an ego boost. Your eyes, your body, your heart, your very soul–all of them are so fucking beautiful. You’re a work of art. He doesn’t deserve you, but, dear Lord, does he love you. *Pained look as he kisses you with all the emotion he can muster*
BONUS:
Slasher kinks…
Jason Voorhees: Intimacy. Jason may not be the most romantic man in the world, yet perhaps that’s why sexual acts always feel so intimate with him. How else is he to show what you mean to him? *Loses himself in you* You could break him so easily. Yet there you were, holding onto him as though you couldn’t bear to let go. You make him belong. You make him loved. You are his gift from above, and he’ll always cherish you.
Thomas Hewitt: DDLG-esque. Tell him what you need, (Y/N), and he’ll give it to you. Always. And when you’re in bed? Hearing you beg for him… God, it hits him in all the right places. *Strokes your front* Does that feel good, darlin’? At your whimpered nod, his heart would ache. Fuck, you’re all he needs in the world. *Lays in the cradle of your thighs, covering you completely as he just loves you*
Michael Myers: Edging. Oh, he wants to come, too…yet nothing is sexier than watching you lose all sense beneath him–than feeling you desperately cling to him as though he were the only thing keeping you sane. He never wants to make you cry, but seeing your eyes leak lustful tears? In a rare moment of animalistic care, he’d kiss them away, shushing you. Not yet, (Y/N).
Brahms Heelshire. BDSM. He may be a deviant devil, but you hold the reigns, (Y/N). Seeing you there–knowing you could easily leave, yet chose to stay? Knowing you want him, too? *Cock pulses with need* And, God, that that grin. The way you smile, teasing him to the brink of release… It’s his favorite game. He’ll never get enough.
Slashers’ Reaction to Social Distancing
Jason Voorhees
Murder-Free Summer. Even if campers come to Crystal Lake, Jason’s staying far away from them. Do you know what that means, (Y/N)? *Dons coveralls* Bring on the paint! Bring on the spackle! Finally, you and Jason can renovate your cabin without distraction! You know that amazing clawfoot tub in the main lodge? *Transfers it to your cabin* (Then has celebratory bubble bath)
Note: Usually, he’s too busy checking traps and hacking campers during the warmer months. And during winter? Well, the freezing temperature means painting is a no-go and the pipes are frozen.
Renovating the Rat Cave. The tunnels. Dear lord, the tunnels! “Jason, those rats deserve a nicer home!” By the time you’re done, it would actually be an enjoyable place to visit.
Sleeping Late. After all, thanks to his homicide hiatus he’s no reason to get up at the crack of dawn. Enjoy your snuggles, you two. You’ve earned it.
Thomas Hewitt
He’d make some masks. Granted, they wouldn’t be medical-grade quality–not in the beginning, at least. After all, where is he supposed to get those kinds of supplies? Being the resourceful man you know and love, however, Thomas would start by crafting masks for the family.
He’d be the Oprah of masks. You get a mask! You get a mask! Everybody gets a mask! Luda Mae, Hoyt, and you would help Thomas in his mission to ensure every member of the Hewitt clan is protected from exposure. Some nights, you’d find Thomas asleep at his workbench. Seeing a half-finished mask in hand, your heart would ache with pride. He was such a good man.
Waking him up, you’d lead him upstairs and into bed. Thankfully, he’d be too tired to notice your struggle to remove his boots. *Falls to the ground as the stubborn thing finally comes off*
Michael Myers
He’d cut his hair. While he may not care about flattening the curve, you do. As a result, Michael’s going to be joining your quarantine. Still, he’s notoriously averse to feeling caged. Simply put, he’s going to get bored. He’s also going to feel confined. *Struggles against tangled hair* That’s it! There’d be no warning–only the faint sound of snipping.
Note: Because he’s Michael, this insufferably talented freak of nature would do a wonderful job. Still, when he walks into the room for movie night–acting like nothing’s different–prepare to choke on popcorn in surprise. *Proceeds to gush over his hair–much to his mortification*
Twister. You would play it…and it would end in sex. You’d also play Monopoly–Michael would be the racecar while you’d be the ever-erotic thimble. Really, (Y/N), that piece is downright scandalous! (At least, the way you use it is.)
Brahms Heelshire
Indoor paradise. So, you’re stuck inside. Well, clearly, this is your and Brahm’s chance to make the Heelshire house amazing! I’m talking makeshift slide-stairs, a newly-installed hammock in the living room, and fairy lights… EVERYWHERE.
He’d refuse to wear pants. Not much more to say. *Swings dick around for fun* Nooooooooo!
Watching you spiral into insanity. Remember, Brahms is the master of social distancing. You, on the other hand? (Y/N), why are you sprinting around the house like a dog with the zoomies? *Slides across the floor in oversized socks* Why are you wearing Brahms’ boxers? Where did you find that bottle of whiskey?
BONUS:
How social distancing would impact your sex life…
Jason Voorhees: Outdoor sex. No campers + nice weather = a lack of possible onlookers. A lack of onlookers means you’d finally be free to do the unthinkable: streak through Camp Crystal Lake. *Strolls gloriously naked past Jason only to get plowed into the dirt via animalistic fucking*
Thomas Hewitt: Inadvertent Cosplay. Masked sex? Well, you do need to test the masks’ ability to stay in place… not to mention that breathability is important.
Michael Myers: Roleplaying. Oooooh, is he a plumber come to…fix your pipes? And where did that 80′s techno music come from? *Bow-chicka-wow-wow*
Brahms Heelshire: Zero Calorie Kinkery. You know he’s going to put mirrors all over the house. Enjoy your Diet Voyeurism–it’s voyeuristic sex, but with none of the shame!
A-Z Alphabet: Michael Myers
A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)
Much like a tamed cougar, Michael isn’t quite domesticated. (Around others, he’s downright lethal.) With you, however, he shows a begrudging, unpracticed warmth.
After making love, he’ll silently rise and leave. The first time he did this, you’d been heartbroken. He’s…just going to leave? Just like that? No sooner than your heart began to ache did he return–still gloriously naked–with a washcloth. If you’re unable to walk afterward (which is absolutely possible), he’d be surprisingly understanding. Simply put, prepare to be carried.
And yes, being carried bridal-style by Michael Myers is as amazing as it sounds. Cuddle against him, listen to his relaxed breaths. While he’s an object of terror to most; for you, he’s simply warm, strong, and deliciously protective.
B = Body part (Their favorite body part and also their partner’s)
What are you most insecure about? Your arms, stomach? Thighs, skin? Whatever you dislike the most, he’ll cherish–seeing its symbolic meaning. For imagination’s sake, let’s use stretch marks. Whenever you’re sitting together, watching a movie on Netflix, he’ll absently trace the soft zig-zags with the pads of his fingers. Soon, you’d forget why you were insecure about them in the first place.
Your favorite part of his body is his face–specifically his eyes. Michael is a difficult man to read. It’s not you–he’s simply spent his formative years being analyzed by trained professionals. If he learned to fool them, he can fool anyone. (Most of the time, he’s doing it subconsciously.) That being said, you’re likely the only person in the world that can touch–let alone see–his face and survive.
C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically…I’m a disgusting person)
Inside you. Michael’s an animalistic man. He wants to know that you’ll be feeling his cum slipping out of you—a clear sign to the world that you’re his. You’re already claimed and mated; thoroughly fucked by your male. (Remember, Michael is one of the more possessive slashers.)
D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)
Praise. While he’ll deny it, Michael loves it when you praise him in bed. Knowing that he can make you come undone with his body is deeply satisfying for the man. If you’re shy, don’t worry. Being highly observant, he’ll take your moans as praise, as well.
Plus he loves watching you beg him to fuck you harder, knowing you’re at his mercy.
Keep reading
Slashers’ Reaction to Being Interrupted During Sex
(Warning: NSFW)
‘Coitus interruptus’ in the literal sense…
Jason Voorhees
Cause of Interruptus: Trespassers.
The exact opposite of saved by the bell. Whoever dared to trespass on his land at such an inopportune time should expect a brutal death.
He’ll freeze, looking to the line of bells. “Nooooo,” you’d groan. “Jason, please, I beg of you. Just–ignore it!” Trying to pull his face back around for another kiss would prove ineffective. Just as he’s about to relent the bell would ring again. Dammit! Unfortunately, Jason has a strong sense of duty. He’d pull away, quickly tugging on a pair of pants before stomping into his boots. Just before he leaves, he’d snatch the blanket from the foot of the bed and tuck it around you. After assuring himself you’re comfortable, he’d give you a gentle kiss on the forehead. Stay there, love, he’ll be right back.
5-10 Minutes Later… Yeah, he wouldn’t play around. Those campers? Dead. And with that out of the way…
He’d leave a trail of clothing in his wake–ensuring he’s naked and ready to resume lovemaking upon his return. Going straight for your core, he’ll use his tongue to warm you back up. He won’t be satisfied until you’re on the edge, and frantically begging him to fuck you. (Note: Jason tends to be rougher after prolonged arousal…Tip or Warning, you decide)
Thomas Hewitt
Cause of Interruptus: “Thomas!”
He’ll groan–but not in the way you prefer. “Thomas? What’s wrong? Why’d you stop?” Hearing the others shouting for him, you’d give a heartbroken moan. “Nooo.” His head would fall to your shoulder in mutual frustration. They really couldn’t last five minutes without him, could they? Still, you are his top priority. After a moment, he’d resume his thrusts, digging in deeper. Maybe he can hurry you both along. His hand would immediately drop to your front, stimulating you.
He’d pin you with a sinful look, maintaining eye contact as he pounds into you. He wants to watch you come for him. You’d feel yourself winding tighter…tighter… God, how could his eyes make you want to come? They were your center, the only thing anchoring you.
“THOMAS! Get down here!” Sometimes, he’s able to send you over the edge, following quickly behind. Others…? With a purely masculine growl of annoyance, he’ll force himself away. “No, Thomas, come back!” He’ll pull on his pants, then whirl back around. Grasping your head, he’d give you a scorching kiss. This is not over. Needless to say, you’d be left with a dizzied look as he exits the room. *Plops back onto bed*
Five minutes later… You’d hear him stomping up the stairs. Upon seeing you curled under the massive quilt, he’d slowly start to unbutton his shirt. Thomas’ nothing if not an effective strip-tease. By the time he’s back in your arms, it’s like he never left.
Michael Myers
Cause of Interruptus: Intruders.
When Michael’s taking you fast and rough, you’re pretty much lost to the world. Meaning? He’s always the first to sense danger. Turning toward the noise, he’d slow his thrusts, distractedly grinding into you with a sinful curl of his hips. When you moan (which is inevitable), he’d shoot forward to cover your mouth. Shush! Honestly, (Y/N), there were people in the house!
This won’t stop your moan, however, as having all that finely-toned musculature against your very willing self is what dreams are made of–at least, yours are. He’d neither lift his hand nor end his thrusts. By the point of orgasm, you’d be deliriously groaning into his hand, writhing as much as possible in askance for more.
Once finished, he’d need a moment to catch his breath. (This is your chance to smother him in kisses, stroke his hair, etc.) After he finally stops shaking, Michael would stand and silently leave the room. As screams fill the air, you’d remain in place, wearing a goofy well-pleasured smile. (Oh, and be able to feel his cum oozing out of you…Cause you know such a sight always makes him want another round.)
Brahms Heelshire
Cause of Interruptus: Don’t know don’t care.
No, no, no, no, no! You’re not stopping–he won’t allow it. The moment you still, he’d simply grip your ass, moving you along his length as he thrusts into you from below. “Brahms!” you’d say, nearly falling against his chest, “I-I have to pay for the groceries!” See this is why he’d wanted to just leave a check out.
Still, the thought of being caught? Let them find you, he doesn’t care. The feel of you wrapped around his cock is too good. He can’t pull away now! At least this way, that damned grocery boy would finally get the message and stop his infuriating attempts to flirt. Actually…the more he thinks about it, the better his idea sounds.
Tensing with determination, he’d flip you over. “Brahms? What–!” Cue the harsh sound of skin slapping skin. It’ll echo through the mansion–as will your involuntary moans. Say his name, (Y/N), his! Tell that boy who you belong to. Brahms is very skilled with his voice. He’ll use it to growl the dirtiest filth in your ear, telling you exactly how it feels inside your tight heat.
BONUS:
Their sex face…
Jason Voorhees: Heavy-lidded eyes train on your every movement. Oh god…what are you doing to him? He’ll try to be a good boy, he really will–letting you take what you need–but sometimes he can’t help but thrust against you.
Thomas Hewitt: Those eyes. He doesn’t need to speak; you know exactly what he’s feeling. When he starts getting closer, his brows will furrow into a pained expression. God, it feels too good.
Michael Myers: Jaw clenched because he’s trying to stay silent. He tends to hold his breath during sex, resulting in sexy growls and huffs. Pretty sweaty, but it just makes his muscles gleam in the moonlight.
Brahms Heelshire: Eyes rolled back in his head, he gives zero f*cks about his expression. You just feel so good. Can he stay inside you forever? He doesn’t mind carrying you around!
Getting Your Slasher to Ditch the Mask...
Warning: semi-passive-aggressive. (But let’s be honest, aggressive tactics won’t work with a stubborn slasher s/o.)
● Wear your own mask. That’s right. Your own mask. Show them what it feels like to cuddle, converse with, make love to, etc. your s/o when they’re wearing a mask. It’s guaranteed to annoy them. They’d hate not being able to see your facial expressions. All you have to do is say, “See! This is what it feels like. Every day.” Keep wearing that thing until they realize the mask needs to go.
● Reward them. Show them just how much you like seeing their face. Sex is probably the most enjoyable reward. If they’re extra self-conscious, give them lots of kisses. Also, treats are great. Brownies, apple pie, lasagna? What is their favorite food? Just make sure they know this isn’t an every-time-they-take-off-their-mask event. (Cough, cough, BRAHMS…)
● It’s a process. They wear the mask for a reason–a deeply rooted one, at that. Still, if they start sliding back to their 24/7-mask-on ways, you can always dangle the threat of your own mask. Needless to say, they’ll get the message. Maybe not the first time, but if they see you weren’t bluffing, they won’t ignore said threat again.
BONUS:
First to cave… Leatherface. Please stop hiding your beautiful face! *Whips off his mask* There, it’s gone. Now give me back my (Y/N)!
Second to cave… Jason. Oh, his heart hurts from not being able to see your smile. He’d last about an hour tops before reluctantly taking off his mask. Once you show your face, he’d chuck your mask aside and nuzzle your face.
Third to cave… Brahms. Oh, but you’re so cute in your own little mask. It’s like a game! *Two days later* Damnit, I can’t take it anymore. I miss being able to mess with you! Show me your easily-readable face, and all its expressiveness! You show me, right now, you!
Last to cave… Michael. Don’t you try and mind-game him! He’ll hold out simply because he refuses to give you the satisfaction. When he does show his face, it’s in the middle of sex. He’d just growl in frustration and rip off both of your masks. You wouldn’t have time to be surprised, he’d make sure of it.
Headcanons for Vincent, Thomas, Brahms, Michael Myers with an s/o who is really good at riding them, like riding them to oblivion till they can’t think right
Vincent Sinclair
Loves when his darling is on top, he gets to watch his beautiful work of art use him like a toy.
His hands grip their hips, and he rolls his own in rhythm with their movements.
Dark hair sticks to his forehead with sweat, his mouth hangs open. His mask was discarded long ago, he looks immaculate in the low light of his workshop.
His breathing is heavy and his moans are strangled. He's trying to keep quiet so he can hear his lover, their groans and sighs.
Vincent loves the way they feel when they bounce on his cock, he thinks he's died and gone to heaven.
Brahms Heelshire
He's such a sub it's not even funny. He begged his lover to make him feel good before bed and they happily obliged.
He doesn't regret asking for this, but he knows he's gonna get fucked stupid.
They're bouncing on his cock, tight little hole squeezing around him deliciously.
Brahms moans loudly, and his hands wander their body. Groping and grabbing the soft skin. He begs for more, tears forming in his eyes.
His beloved smirks down at him, his mind melting the more they rock their hips. He doesn't want it to stop, yet at the same time he needs to cum.
Thomas Hewitt
He's very much a giver. Whatever his lover wants they will get.
He protested being laid on his back only because he wants to make sure his beloved is getting as much pleasure as he is.
Tommy is convinced that they're enjoying themselves as well when he sees the way they look down at him.
Their hips rolling, their tight hole squeezing his fat cock just right. His mask was discarded, and he was flushed from his neck to the tips of his ears.
Low grunts rumbled in his chest, his cock throbbed as his darling bounced. They looked like a work of art above him.
Michael Myers
Selfish. That's the best word to describe him in bed. When his beloved climbed over him he remained completely still.
If they wanted to fuck themselves on his cock, they can have at it. He's tired, he won't help, not unless they cum before he does.
His nonchalant attitude melts away within minutes, his lover bounced along his shaft. The tip of his cock hit something delicious inside them and he nearly lost it.
Heavy pants emanated from behind his mask. He was losing himself, watching as they use him like a fuck toy. Their tight hole milking him for all he's worth.
🌬🍃
Slashers’ Reaction to Getting High
@elliotenabled: The idea of Michael getting high and just…staring at his knife amuses me greatly. I’d really love to know all the slashers response to getting high xD
Jason Voorhees
He’d have deep thoughts. Have you ever noticed how bright the stars are? They’re just…billions of suns. What if one of them has its own earth? And what if that earth has its own (Y/N)? And what if it has its own Jason and (Y/N)? *Reaches out to hold your hand*
Is this why people get high? Oh…he sees it, now. *Pats his masked face, smushing his nose down in the process* (Y/N)? (Y/N), he can’t breathe! *Starts shaking with giggles* Oh wait, that’s cause he was smushing his face… *Continues giggle-smushing*
Thomas Hewitt
You’re so beautiful, (Y/N). No! So handsome… No! So…(Y/N)…you’re so (Y/N)-esque, (Y/N). *Grins like a stoned fool* He’d play with his own hair then try to braid it into yours. Together forever…
He’d try to make you a gift. Emphasis on try. You deserve something wonderful–like you! But what? Oh! How about a leather bracelet? But what if you don’t like human leather? *Puppy-face-levels of sadness*
He’d get playful. Really playful. Are you on a walk? (Because you didn’t want Hoyt ruining your high?) Oh, (Y/N)…guess who’s about to get tickled! *Chases after you, intent on making you squeal with laughter*
Michael Myers
Stares at his knife for an entire hour. So sharp, so deadly, so…shiny. *Turns it this-way-and-that in the light, admiring its reflective properties*
Stares at his own reflection. His eyes are like bottomless pits of blackness surrounded by an arctic ocean of blue… *Imagines drowning victims in his eyes* And his hair…is like a lion’s mane. *Bares teeth and studies his canines* Yes, he is the king of beasts–the most deadly of all Michaels.
Brahms Heelshire
He’d be very cuddly. Eskimo kisses are his weapon of choice. Wrapping you both up in a fuzzy blanket, he’d rub his face against you. Oh, your skin is so soft, (Y/N)!
Takes too much…turns into an utter dumpster fire. That is Brahms. Paranoia, anxiety–anxious paranoia with a touch of panic. (Y/N)?! Where is his (Y/N)?! *Finds you literally making him a PBJ because it’s what. he. asked. for* Oh, sweet (Y/N)! He thought he’d lost you forever! *Rushes forward to embrace you* Never leave his side again!
oh my god this was amazing i-
Affection
INCLUDES MICHAEL
I have gotten a few different requests for a softer more affectionate side of Michael so I decided to put them together and create this, a longer (almost 2k words) descriptive drabble about showering with Michael. All this talk about getting Michael to shower and what his hygiene is like had me thinking lol… Now this is deeply inspired by @slasherholic and their writing style, of course I made it my own but it is defiantly a nod to them :) Thank you for your asks and requests!.. hope you enjoy 🔪💕
MASTERLIST
There was a sting on your cool soft skin as you stepped into the blazing stream, raining down from the old head above. Through gritted teeth you bared your head back allowing the water to soak you, down your hair, trailing every muscle in your shoulders and back. Burning your flesh with a pleasent tingle from the contrast of temperatures as you had just been outside on a walk, the autumn wind was sharp kissing your face and seeping into your bones. Closing your eyes you calmed completely around the hot water, tension ebbed from your muscles and your jaw; it had been a long day, and you could not have needed this more.
Steam flowed off your skin and out the top of the curtain like soft clouds, painting the mirror and sweating on the tiles, finally reaching the cracked door and seemingly disappearing into the night. Soft hands ran through your hair pushing away the water along the edges of your face, pooling beneath your feet and draining with quiet gurgles.
The placid air had suddenly changed as you heard the shower curtain pull along the metal rod, screeching at the force; you did not open your eyes for you knew exactly who it was. The smell of iron, rich dirt and a firm musk coating the air, almost battling with the steam and the fresh smells of your body wash. The curtain superseded it’s own path with the same screech and crinkles, a large, mysterious presence appeared in front of you, out of the steam that seemed to billow around him.
Opening your eyes you met his; one brown, dark and deep with a slight hint of yellow around the iris, outlined like black ink. The other scarred; a dull shade you could never decide if it was more blue or more grey, it reminded you of a thunderstorm approaching, devouring any bright sky and coating the blue in dark streaks and shadows, while his scar was in the shape of a catastrophic bolt of lighting, forking and brutally tearing through the iris; Much like the shape, a force of nature, leaving destruction in it’s wake.
Michael just watched you with a look you could never place, and sometimes you just didn’t want to know what that look meant, it was a mystery, like him; never solvable, never predictable, dangerous, and so beautiful in the hidden detail all at once. Loving this gaze was a curse and a privilege. You were one of the only people who ever got to meet these forceful eyes, see the detail in them and live. Perhaps that was his affection.
Keep reading
Hi, I was wondering if you could do a Micheal Myers X Dr. Loomis’s daughter reader one shot? I thought it’d be an interesting read lol. If you’re not Interested or too busy that’s completely fine! I just haven’t seen any one else do this request. Honestly, I would request more, but I’m always too nervous to talk to people online and in person. Sorry for the unnecessary rambling! Thank you and have a lovely day or night ( depending on what time you see this lol )!
Michael Myers x reader, who is Dr. Loomis's daughter
The boy with the eyes of the devil. Monster.
You didn’t fully understand what your father was talking about, after all, at that time you were only six years old, but you could say with confidence that this “something” made your father terribly nervous and even frightened him, although he would never admit it.
It was an ordinary early November morning. The weather was cloudy, all the streets were filled with milky fog. The damp air settled unpleasantly in my lungs with each new breath. You sat in the back seat of the car while your father put the key in the ignition. Your small hands nervously fiddled with the edge of your seat belt. Not to say that this was your first trip to your father’s place of work, no. On the contrary, you often went there with him, because sometimes there was no one to leave you with at home, almost all of your dad’s colleagues knew you. And yet today the atmosphere in the car was unpleasantly oppressive and dense, you could literally cut it with a knife. It seemed that your father was weighed down by some thoughts, but you did not dare to ask him about it.
The journey to the psychiatric hospital took quite a long time because your father decided to take a longer but safer route. He didn't want any accident to happen due to such thick fog.
When you arrived at the hospital, it was already around seven in the morning. You approached a tall building, which, despite its appearance and neat paths for walking with patients, inspired subconscious fear in you. Your father gently but firmly took your hand.It was quite dark outside, so when you walked inside, an unpleasant greenish light hit your eyes, creating a strangely tense atmosphere among the white walls of the hospital. Your father immediately went to some office. It was a small office, filled with various folders and documents. In the middle of the room, at a dark table, sat the man with whom your father was now talking. You didn’t pay much attention to their conversation, completely captivated by the small colorful fish in the aquarium. Your children's palms carefully pressed against the slightly cloudy glass, joyfully following with your eyes the colorful fish hiding among the tall corals.
Finally, your father called your name, causing you to reflexively turn your head in his direction. His voice was gentle and calm, but it still contained his characteristic sternness.
“I need you to stay here for a while, okay? I have work in another office. Will you be a good girl for me?” Loomis asked with a small smile, patting your head. In response, you only nodded briefly.
You were always a smart and understanding child, so Loomis was not afraid to leave you alone. Although he knew that you liked to play by your own rules from time to time, the man really trusted you and your smart mind for a child. After all, you are your father's daughter.
About fifteen minutes passed before you realized that you were tired of watching the office fish. What's the point of staring at them for a long time if all they do is swim back and forth and back? You definitely should have taken some toys from home. Finally, when boredom took over, you carefully left the office, hoping to find your father and proudly declare that you had nothing to do. Wandering along the corridor, you caught some nurse and asked where your dad was now. This kind soul, of course, didn’t know that she shouldn’t tell you about this, but everyone in this place knew you as a smart and calm child, so she told you the right office without any problems.
It was a particularly remote room at the end of the corridor. The dim green light barely reached here, and there were no windows in this part of the hospital. You quietly opened the right door, wincing slightly at the disgusting creak, and went inside. Inside there was another door with a small window to the right of it. You walked closer to the window, because of your short stature you could barely see what was happening on the other side of the glass. But you perfectly saw your father sitting with his back to you. A strange boy sat next to him. His blond hair was disheveled and looked somewhat dirty, and his empty dark eyes looked simultaneously into nothingness, but at the same time into your very soul. He looked no older than your age, although he was obviously larger than you in size. Your father was telling him something, but the boy did not react to his words at all, he just looked blankly out the window opposite. Did he look at you? Unknown.But it seemed to you that the moment you came into his field of vision, the boy’s head shifted slightly to the side.
This was the first time you saw this boy, a most strange but intriguing meeting. Michael Myers. That’s what your father called him, looking through the child’s personal file in your kitchen at home with a cup of coffee in his hands.
The next time you saw this boy was only about two weeks later. Your father purposefully brought you to Michael's room, hoping that perhaps you, as a child, could establish some kind of contact with this strange boy. Loomis gently squeezed your hand, looking down at you with a smile.
“This is a special boy. You should try playing with him, okay?” You nodded curtly in response. "That’s my girl."
Loomis led you into the same small room, not even suspecting that you had already been here once. Your own cunning caused a small, naive smile to bloom on your face. Loomis led you to Michael sitting on the bed and sat you on the chair next to him.
“I’ll be behind this door if anything happens to you, okay honey?” With these words, Loomis left the room.
You carefully sat down on the chair, folding your hands in your lap. The boy in front of you looked almost like a lifeless doll, so empty was the look in his dark eyes. He looked somewhere ahead and didn't even blink. You smiled slightly, deciding to use all your charm and friendliness.
“My name is Y/N. And what is your name?"
The boy didn't react. But you could have sworn you saw the focus of his eyes shift from the emptiness in front of him to you, seemingly appraising you. A pleasant burning sensation lit up in your heart when you realized that this boy was truly “special”, as your dad told you, and not some emotionless vegetable. It seems like that’s what doctors called such people, no? You weren't sure. But you really wanted to appear grown up and work like your dad in the future, so you wanted to start getting some knowledge about it right now.
“Your name is Michael, right?” you smiled your childish, somewhat toothless smile, “You don’t really like to talk, do you? I think yes. Then do you mind if I do the talking?” There was only silence in response. You giggled, “Silence is a sign of consent! So, I'm six. Probably you too? I haven’t been told much about you, to be honest.”
Now you leaned back in your chair, folding your arms over your chest and pouting your lips in a mock pout.
“This is so awkward. I want to grow up quickly so I won't be treated like a child anymore! Oh, you know, I really like to draw! I don't think you'll tell me what you like, after all, it's just me talking now, but next time let me bring sketchbooks and pencils? I think you'll enjoy drawing too! It's really interesting."
One moment there is darkness, and the next there is this gentle voice and a warm feeling of presence. Other... people radiated only coldness and anger towards him, but this pure soul was strangely kind and welcoming. He had already felt it once, when that unpleasant and stern man was in front of him, but then she was far away. Now she was right in front of him. A girl. She told him her name, and even tried to start some kind of cute, even somewhat stupid, childish conversation with him. There was absolutely no point in talking to this girl, but for some reason her presence was strangely comforting and almost pleasant. It was as if he was little again, at home. But now he knew that he did not have that warm, old home. Not after the voice in his head told him to kill his dirty sister, no. And yet now he wanted the presence of this girl, although he himself did not know why.
You have become a frequent visitor to this psychiatric hospital. You usually visited Michael once or twice a week, and Loomis very soon noticed the results. The boy really opened up to you. Even if it really couldn’t be seen with a simple glance, Samuel, as a psychiatrist, had long noticed the difference: the way Michael’s head tilted when he listened with interest to your stories, or the way he gave you certain unambiguous answers in his own way. It seemed that the two of you had your own language, understandable only to you two. Michael even smiled next to you (although it could hardly be called a smile, but the corners of his lips curled up slightly nervously when he saw you, although it only happened for a split second). For Loomis, this was indeed a definite discovery. The man noticed how the boy sat on his bed for a long time, waiting for you, and seemed to be calculating the time and day. The hospital did not tell him today’s date, because there was no particular need for this, but Michael independently realized that you usually come on Tuesday or Wednesday and always Friday. Surprisingly, his cold heart opened up to you.
At first, this really encouraged Loomis, because perhaps his patient was beginning to recover. But after two or three months he realized that he was mistaken. Michael's personality development only happened in exceptional moments when you were around. The rest of the time, he did not react in any way to the requests or words of the staff and doctors. Michael has become attached to you. No, rather, to some extent he became obsessed with you. Loomis saw that deadly metallic glint in Michael's dark eyes as the man walked back into the room, saying your time is up. Michael’s childish fists almost twitched, as if an obsessive desire to hurt the doctor arose in his mind, if only you would remain nearby.
As the years passed, the doctor realized that getting you into Myers' "treatment" was a bad idea. Now you are ten years old, and Loomis has reduced your meetings to twice a month. He noticed how this affected the boy.
Now Michael absolutely refused to make contact with any of the doctors, spending all his free time in his room, staring blankly at the ceiling. His wall near the bed was covered with your drawings, and on a small table in the corner of the room lay a half-empty pack of pencils and a new album. You brought it during your last visit, saying that you would draw it next time. Five weeks have passed since that time, and Michael still hasn’t dared to touch the ill-fated album. The cover with the cats was already fairly covered with dust, and the pencils were covered in red and black. Michael obediently waited for the next time, knowing that you would not deceive. It is so? You always came back, no matter how badly he behaved with doctors, right? He will wait as long as necessary, like a little faithful puppy.
The guy stopped counting the days, and the world around him turned into endless darkness. All these brainless doctors and orderlies, whose souls are each blacker than the other. Vile, dirty people with no compassion. He missed his little flower. A pure, cheerful creature who brings colors into his life, and with them light. Her soul was the only source of light in this endless dark pit. Why was it taken from him? They took away his source of warmth and light, his little sun. She will be back. She'll definitely be back. She's different. He knows.
---
It was an ordinary cloudy day at the Illinois State Mental Hospital. The sky was covered with a dense layer of gray clouds, threatening to burst into torrential rain, and fog covered everything around. The evening swayed the trees with thin tables with unprecedented force, carrying already fairly yellowed leaves for miles around in a simple dance.
You sighed nervously, looking at the fading nature outside the window. Finally, you turned your head in the direction of your father, who was enthusiastically giving you another lecture of instructions, completely not noticing that you were absolutely not interested in it.
"..dad. I’ve read his personal file three times already, I understand everything, okay?”
The man frowned, but exhaled in defeat, folding his hands behind his back. Even when he relaxed his face, a few wrinkles on his face remained, clearly indicating the man's age and the stress of his job.
“I know, I’m just worried about you.Are you sure you want to practice medicine with this particular patient? You know, there are several dozen more patients in your specialty, and less dangerous ones..."
“Dad,” you interrupt him with a frown, “You and I have already discussed this several times, haven’t we? Don't worry. After all, he is your patient, I know you will intervene if something goes wrong.”
Finally the man gave in. He nodded in agreement and briefly hugged you, patting you on the head like when you were a child. A short “ok” left his lips, and together you headed towards the ill-fated office.
The sound of a door opening. Michael didn't bother to turn his head towards the entering doctor. The guy knew that now again the meaningless dialogues on the part of the doctor and even more meaningless taking of pills would begin. He was healthy, the guy was sure of it. He had long ago become accustomed to the emptiness in his chest that had become painfully familiar to him and the noise of endless thoughts in his mind. And he didn't want to change that. It was as if, over such a long period of time, this state had become like a protective cocoon for him.
The room was filled with an unobtrusive sweetish aroma of some fruity perfume, from which Michael could barely restrain himself from wrinkled his nose. The heavy silence in the room was interrupted only by the steady tapping of women's heels. It had been a long time since he had been visited by a female doctor, something new.
"Hello, Michael."
These few words made the guy's heart clench unpleasantly. He stared in front of him, now fully feeling that long-forgotten feeling of warmth and light presence. That bright figure of white light appeared before my eyes again, like the purest angel on earth. A short sigh escaped from his chest, and his lips almost reflexively bent into a pitiful semblance of a smile. Still, he was really glad to see her. He knew she would return. He knew, even if that pathetic old man and his employees told Michael otherwise. He knew you were different.
"It's been a long time... I'm really sorry."
He remained silent, instead absorbing her every new word like a sponge thrown into the sea. Now he didn't care that she left, because she came back. The guy tried to remember everything: the aroma of her perfume, which now seemed so painfully sweet and pleasant, driving his entire pulsating mind crazy; the sound of her angelic voice is like a gentle cradle, lulling him in her tender embrace. He tried to remember everything. Now her fragile image filled his entire mind. He wanted to touch, touch, feel, show that she was his. Over the many years of being here, he realized that she was his, and he had to prove it to everyone. His light, his delicate flower, his sun.The guy was ready to fulfill all her instructions and requests, if only she would stay with him as long as possible. Stayed forever.
Now the girl came to him every day, and Michael could not imagine anything better. It was as if all his dreams had come true.
She was his personal nurse.
In the mornings she sometimes combed his hair. Usually it stuck out and was very messy and dirty, but now his curly hair looked clean and soft.
She brought him food, and sometimes Michael deliberately chose to pretend to be a brainless vegetable, if only she would feed him herself, gently bringing the spoon to his bitten lips.
Michael could have sworn that there was actually excitement and tenderness in her actions, as if she was worried and genuinely cared about him. And just thinking about it made his soul warm. Now he heard her voice every day, felt her gentle touches, felt her trepidation and care. But this was not enough. He wanted more. Michael felt a strange burning sensation when she talked to other people in the hospital, especially men. He began to feel an unpleasant itch, and images were scrolling through his head of how he could kill this vile guard and then pull her into his protective arms. Michael wanted her hands on his neck or in his hair, and his hands on her soft hips. He wanted her for himself and no one else.
---
That morning you came again to give Michael pills. You were the only one Michael allowed to give him his medicine. He would even drink poison from your hands. The main condition was that there should be no security either inside or outside.
You moved closer, gently lifting Michael's chin with your gentle fingers. He wrapped his arms around your hips, looking up at you, and obediently opened his mouth. You placed the colored tablet on his tongue, to which he quickly swallowed it, without water. The man’s hands gently roamed over your soft flesh, pressing you as close to him as possible. You gently massaged his tangled hair, lightly scratching his itchy skin from constant thoughts.
“Michael..” his name sounds like the sweetest honey on your tongue, the man is ready to listen to this for an eternity, “I’m sorry, but today is the last day of my practice.”
Michael raised his eyebrows slightly, snuggling into your gentle hand.He wanted you to explain what it was about and why you had such a sad expression on your face. The guy wanted answers, but you perfectly remembered your father’s request not to tell him about it. This could cause Michael to become aggressive. Still, you didn’t want to hurt him. So you just briefly hugged him by his strong shoulders and briefly kissed his forehead.
The next day you didn't come.
And every other day too.
Did he do something wrong? The evil doctors did not allow you to come to him again? Michael had many questions, and yet, the answer for him was the arrogant smiling face of Dr. Loomis.
---
It was Halloween evening. You have already distributed all your candy to the children in colorful costumes, who for a good few hours interrupted your peaceful existence with their constant knocking on the door. Now you were sitting relaxed on the sofa in the living room and watching your favorite horror movie, sipping sweet soda with pleasure. And so, at the next moment, when something terrible was about to happen in the film, you heard that ill-fated doorbell again. With an annoyed sigh, you stood up from the couch, setting the soda on the table, and headed towards the door. To your surprise, there was no one on the street. But as soon as you closed the door, a pair of strong arms wrapped around your waist. You tried to escape, hitting the stranger in the stomach with your elbows, to which you only received a muffled grunt. A strange metallic smell filled my nose. You turned around, feeling your heart beating wildly in fear in your chest. Your eyes met the emotionless eye-shaped cutouts on the latex mask. Is this some kind of joke? You wanted to scream, but were interrupted by the sharp sensation of someone else's lips on your neck. How did he manage to roll up the edge of his mask so quickly? You bit your lower lip in fear, pulling off the unfortunate mask with one sharp movement. Now a pair of sad dark eyes are staring at you.
“Michael?.. How you.. why are you here?”
The man just muttered something unintelligible, rubbing his nose against the skin of your neck.
Loomis worriedly dialed your phone number, putting the phone to his ear. His most dangerous and unstable patient has escaped. Possible options for his direction were his younger sister Laurie and... you.
“Y/N, baby, are you okay? I'm in the hospital now and Myers has escaped! If he headed towards you and something happened to you, I don’t know what I’ll do...” The doctor muttered nervously, wiping his own forehead, sweaty from stress, with his palm.
“No, it's okay, dad. I didn’t see him,” came the answer from the other side of the line. A steady, quiet snoring could be heard in the background.