i am feeding my addiction
i am feeding my addiction
✨🌸Here’s a little something I thought about! I thought it was kinda cute??✨🌸
✨🌸Jason and Michael with a s/o who baked them a cake!✨🌸
Jason🦊🏕: Jason loves you’re cooking! So it’s safe to say he’ll love you’re baking as well!
✨🌸You had baked him his favorite cake! He wasn’t home while you were doing it so it was gonna be a surprise!✨🌸
✨🌸He walks in the door of the cabin and is met with the most delicious smell!~✨🌸
🌸✨Brings back happy memories for him!✨🌸
🌸✨He thinks you’re 10 times more adorable (if that’s even possible???)🌸✨
✨🌸offer to feed him some? That’s it you just melted Jason’s heart completely!!✨🌸
✨🌸Really enjoys it!^^✨🌸
Michael🕸 ✨🌸Has a bigger sweet tooth then he’ll ever admit✨🌸
✨🌸Probably was home while you were baking the cake but was in his on world at the time ✨🌸
🌸✨Bonus points if bring the cake to him✨🌸
🌸✨He enjoys the cake a lot!✨🌸
✨🌸Will give you small head pats as a thank you!✨🌸
✨🌸If you try to feed him some he might be a little more hesitant compared to jay but he’ll cave eventually (he can’t say no to you y/n!)✨🌸
🌸✨Again he would never tell you this but he finds it super sweet you baked him a cake simply because you love him✨🌸
🌸✨Will get extra protective of you!✨🌸
my headcanon for what he looks like underneath the mask
The general vibe I get from imagining Michael as a parent is basically “I had to chug three energy drinks to keep up with half of this thing’s energy”
Summary: The photograph scene with RZ Michael but it's you instead and you two get all soft with each other. ( @unnerving-presence )
Gender Neutral reader
Warnings: Slight knife mentions, dead person mention, murder mention, it's Michael Myers that should give you enough warning-
Genre: SFW, Fluff.
I haven’t written anything seriously in quite a while so excuse my horrible and rusty writing skills. Hope you enjoy though! If anything seems wrong just point it out aaaaaaa
-Fic under the cut
You woke up slowly, eyes fluttering open and almost thinking you hadn’t opened them at all from how dark it was. You were sat up against a rough wall, maybe a building of sorts, but you couldn’t tell. As your eyes got used to the dim lighting of this place, you looked around. Everything was blurry at first but you could tell there was some sort of being, a person lying motionless a few feet away from you.
The shaky lighting of the Jack-o-lantern next to them was almost funny if it weren’t the fact they were one of the people that had accompanied you that night. You swallowed down a lump in your throat and sucked in a breath that you didn’t know you needed as you crawled over.
What you couldn’t see was the large figure watching you from the shadows just up ahead.
As you tried shaking them awake, tiredly crying out their name and cradling their head, he made his move. He was silent, like an owl stalking his prey. But this was different. You could see it as you snapped your head over to him. He wasn't creeping up on you, no, he was making sure you knew he was there.
“Who are you?! What do you want?!” You called out to him, a sob in your voice as the huge man made his way towards you with a knife in hand.
Michael had to steady his breathing as he got closer to you. You had definitely gotten even more attractive as the years went by. He had gotten so lost in your new, mature features that he had forgotten how scary he looked like this. When Michael saw your eyes flicker over to the knife in his hand, screaming to not hurt you, he dropped it hastily.
Now he had your attention.
Once he was close enough, he dropped to his knees and took an extra second to admire you before reaching into the left pocket of his boiler suit and pulling out a worn photograph. You watched his actions intently. What was he doing? What did he want from you? Why wasn’t he killing you?
His hands were covered in grime and blood, the result of having killed so many people that night. But he was so gentle with the picture, treating it as if it meant absolutely everything to him as he slowly handed it to you.
You took a moment, scanning him for any ill intent. Once you didn’t find any, you hesitantly took the picture from his grasp. And that’s when your heart almost stopped in your chest. You recognized this picture. You had a copy of it framed in your home.
The picture contained two children, you and your best friend Michael when you two were about eight years old. He had an arm around your shoulders while you did the same to him, a wide smile on both your faces while you grinned at the camera. You remembered this day like it was yesterday.
You had finally lost your bottom left tooth when eating an apple with Michael at the park. The two of you had excitedly chatted about how to hide the tooth and guess how much money you would get from the ‘tooth fairy’ when you went to sleep. You had decided on splitting the money between you and him since he ‘had been there when it fell out so he deserved at least half for such an amazing moment.’
You could go on for hours about that day, just not now.
The sunny sky of the park faded into the moment you were stuck in and when you looked up, the man no longer had his white mask on. Long strands of dirty blonde hair hung over his face and trailed down his shoulders. If you squinted, you could see the dark bags under his baby blue eyes. The same eyes in the picture.
Your brows furrowed and you took a minute to go from the picture to the man kneeling in front of you until your hand dropped down to set the picture aside. It was him. It was Michael.
“Michael..? Is- Is that you..?”
Michael could feel his body slump forward in relief, giving a small nod as you made your way over to him. He was still quite nervous, don't get him wrong, his knife was closer to you than it was to him and he kept his eyes trained on your hands while they moved across the soft soil you were situated on.
But you had forgotten about the knife as soon as you realized who was in front of you. “Oh, Michael….you look so tired..” You said softly, now sitting on your legs as your hands slowly reached up to cup his face. Surprisingly, he didn’t stop you from doing so. Those blue eyes you loved so much softened as they scanned your face as if wondering why you weren’t scared of him.
You used a hand to brush away those strands that covered his face, now revealing his full face to your eyes. He had some facial hair covering his chin and a bit above his upper lip. It was a bit scratchy but somehow soft at the same time. You could almost feel just how relieved he was from your actions, going all the way to letting his eyes droop shut as a long sigh was exhaled.
You sat there, running your fingers along his face until a huff was heard from Michael. You giggled and pulled him a bit closer, pecking his cheek with a smile. “You grew up to be so handsome Michael..” You cooed at him, laughing as he used his hands to bring you up and into his lap, resting his head against your chest. Your hands ran along his back and shoulders, allowing the shape of Haddonfield to hold you so close.
After so many years of being locked up in Smiths Grove,
Michael Audrey Myers was finally home.
so i had a dream last night where i was just having a tough day, things weren’t going right and al my friends were mean to me for some reason?
and then i got home and i got to hug michael while i was crying and he held me back it was so niceeehwwhhw 😓😓😓
Read some excellent MyLaurie fanfics from Slasherslasher and Burningsoftly and now I want to see a story where Laurie is being hunted by a copycat killer, see how she deals with that, and how our favorite stalker would as well. I don't know I'm just bored and staving off Christmas for as long as I can.
so I wanted to post this for Halloween but then some stuff came up and I lost all motivation for it so its short amount of slashers, I will probably try to update it later and add some more!
Rz Michael Myers:
Can’t understand how someone can like a day this much, I mean he has his own reasons for “enjoying” Halloween but they obviously differ from yours
Eats all of the candy you bought for trick or treaters
Actually enjoys doing Halloween crafts with you, not that he will tell you (hey we all saw his collection of masks and other crafts)
Now the night of Halloween he is a bit… busy but hey take what you can get, it is Michael after all!
Loves holidays but really loves Halloween because you can dress up as whomever you want!
If you dress up he would really like to do your makeup if you would let him?
You guys can't decorate too much because of lack of stuff but Bubba will try his very best!
Don't make a mess or he will definitely throw a fit
Hide the candy from him or he will eat it until he is sick
And no you cant have trick-or-treaters, not that anyone would come to the Heelshire Estate but
One of his favorite holidays don't you know?
All the costumes, all the masks
Wants you to dress up in something revealing because you know, he's like that
What's so great about Halloween?
He doesn't really understand why but if you're happy then he doesn't care
Like Bo, he doesn't understand why and is glad you are happy
Will dress up with you, but it's not like you guys are going where
Hoyt doesn't really like Halloween so he never really celebrated it so he is interested in what you love so much about it
Likes to watch you get ready in your costume
Likes the way you decorate the house for spooky season
He is excited for next year
Will take you into town to get things
Will even take you to trick or treat?? If you want that??
*right before he broke out of Smith's Grove*
Michael: Well, well, well. If it isn’t all the rage I've been shoving down for 15 years.
From the official novelization of Halloween (2018) by John Passarella
Michael is confirmed cat-person
eating dogs and petting kitty cats
"Michael Myers murdered five people. And he’s a human being we need to understand? I’m twice divorced. And I’m a basket case."
- Laurie Strode
excerpts from white god ; 875 - 483 ; afab! reader, heavy religious undertones
You expected very little when you asked Michael to accompany you home after service; even his curt nod was enough to shock you. You had spent the entire Mass glancing at him in the corner of your eye, watching his blank stare, the hand on his knee, and the occasional roll of his shoulders for any sign of discomfort. Deep in your thought, you nearly jumped when Michael set his palm on your knee.
His hand was warm and heavy in your lap - fingertips just brushing the exposed skin of your thigh while his palm was restrained by the fabric of your dress. Your head shot up, catching Michael’s dark eyes with yours. The low light in the room highlighted the deep blue color and separated it from the black pupil that bore into you. A pressure gathered in your chest; a sudden feeling of penitence wrapped around your throat.
Michael nodded towards the end of the pew before you could do something stupid. It had been emptied, and the attendant was waiting for you to join the others in line for Communion. You quickly stumbled across the bench, taking your place with a soft apology. Michael, per usual, watched and waited from his seat. You clasped your hands over your chest and forced yourself to look forward.
Your heart thumped against your wrists making your chest batter against your Christmas attire like a ram. Every step felt as though the floor was ready to eat you whole, and as you approached the Father, you began to worry. The downcast eyes of Christ above you filled you with dread - you were unfit to receive a share of His body and blood.
But it was too late to slip away, hide in the furthest bathroom, and walk yourself home.
“The body of Christ.”
You swallowed the little saliva in your mouth, tongue parting your glued lips to whisper, “Amen.” Your jaw stuttered when you opened your mouth, hyper aware of the Priest laying the bread on your tongue. You dared not swallow, but the disc melted into paste after your first few steps, sliding down your throat when you inevitably pushed your tongue back.
“The blood of Christ.”
“Amen.” You responded quietly, hesitant to receive the chalice. Still, you raised it to your mouth, allowing only a few drops of wine to pass your lips. The woman attendant looked upon you with pity. The alcohol burned every part of your mouth, feeling as though you swallowed hellfire as it dragged itself down your throat.
You hurried down the long walk back to your seat. Michael stood at the end, having moved to let others file in comfortably. You rushed your last steps and ended up tripping over your own boots. Though only a stumble, Michael caught you by your arm and held you steady. His grip was gentle, yet firm, and unbearably hot despite the thin layer of clothing separating you. You composed yourself, expecting his iron to bend once you were stable. But his hand only wandered up your forearm, ghosting over it until he reached the end of your sleeve, where he stretched his fingers and wrapped them around your palm. He moved your joined hands into the pew, guiding your small steps and corralling you inside, sealing off the only exit with his body before letting you go.
He sat back down and you kneeled, folding your hands and holding them to your head. You breathed in the lingering frankincense, giving the image of Jesus molded to the cross one last look before closing your eyes and praying.
Soul of Christ, sanctify me;
Body of Christ, save me;
Blood of Christ, inebriate me;
The words faltered in your head.
Soul of Christ, sanctify me;
Body of Christ, save me;
Blood of Christ, inebriate me;
They halt again. You open your eyes and sighed, the vision of the Son’s disappointed gaze filling your mind. A stone weighed heavy in your belly; you closed your eyes and started your prayer with a plea.
Lord, forgive me for all I have done.
Soul of Christ, sanctify me;
Body of Christ-
Michael’s large hand tapped your shoulder. You looked around to see everyone had finished their prayers. You hurriedly sat yourself next to Michael and raised the kneeler. He took the hand closest to him, laced your fingers together, and gave you a gentle squeeze.
His eyes were small oceans that you were sure to drown in. Even in the brief moment before the Father began to speak again, you could feel your consciousness slip - suddenly overtaken with the inexplicable urge to kiss him.
If the Devil had eyes, you were sure they looked like Michael’s.
And they darted to your lips, lingering for all of a second. You blinked, and it was as though he had never looked away. He pulled away first, sitting back flat against the wooden bench with a roll of his shoulders. You didn’t miss how he looked downcast at your hands before returning to his blank stare, straight at the Father. You turned your head, watching the man speak below the statue of Jesus.
Body of Christ, save me;
Lord, forgive you for what you were about to do.
Michael grabbed the back of your knees, slowly bending them back to rest on his shoulders. He leaned forward, lifting your hips as he crawled over you, caging you between your bed and his strong frame. You crossed your arms over your chest, shielding yourself from his icy stare.
He pushed his hips forward, the rough material of his jeans dragging across the warm, wet patch on your panties. A soft whine started in your throat, morphing into a dreamy sigh when he took your wrists and held them by your ears. He thumbed at your pulse, rough fingerprints tracing the veins up to your palm. They glided over the tendons and slid through the divide between your fingers.
“Michael,” You spoke into the space between you. With his weight split across his forearms and the knees under your hips, he was near parallel to you - folding you in half with his size. He looked down at your lips, quickly glancing back up to meet your gaze. He dipped his head, brushing his lips against yours with an unpolished confidence. Your words left you, and you reciprocated with a soft coo and docile, meek movements.
The kiss would’ve been chaste if not for the fire set across your skin - by Michael and his light touches and his breath over your lips. He squeezed your hands once before pulling away, leaving the last contact between the plush of your lips. He sat back on his legs, looking at you with downcast eyes. The Devil’s eyes.
In the pools of dark blue, you could see the cross nailed over your bed reflected. The limp body of Christ contrasted his own; the man above sat tall, perfectly straight as he pulled his shirt over his head. The muscles in his abdomen rippled under the soft fleshy skin. He wasn’t the Devil; Michael was something to fear.
You watched as He unbuckled his jeans, pushing them midway down his thighs before He dragged you up the expanse and hooked your knees on his shoulders once again. You felt like a teenager about to be fucked silly while your parents where still in the house - half-dressed and high on the feeling of doing something forbidden. A cardinal sin of the flesh.
“Michael,” You raised your hand and held it over his chest. He locked eyes with you, thick hands still groping your thighs. When you failed to respond, his eyes walked across the expanse of your body, from your exposed chest to the dress bunched up around your waist and past your hips back up your thigh. His gaze darked, and He soothed the plush bleeding through his fingers. He brought his lips to the flesh, encompassing it in the warmth between his teeth, biting- kissing darkened bruises to mark his path. Your breath hitched, and you raised your hand again. “Michael… I want to do this properly.”
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Michael Myers reacting to his s/o who's afraid of giving him affection
He doesn't react when you give him affection as you both started a relationship.
He just stands there, motionless as you give him hugs, give him quick pecks on his masks' cheek. He doesn't know what to react, he doesn't know the emotion for that
It was hard at first, you having to give him as much affection as you can, which he won't give you back at the same time. You were fine with that, you didn't wanna be needy for his while you give him yours.
He had a rough day, he was pissed. Unfortunately, he had found you out of the house and with another person. He thought it was just a friend, but when he came close, you guys were holding hands giving each other affectionate names.
When you came back and closed the door, you yelped as you find him behind you, his shoulder visibly shaking. When you greeted him with a hug, he had shoved you away from him.
You were confused and hurt, why did he do that? ‘Maybe his just having a bad day.. Yeah maybe he was.’
You shrugged it off, waiting for him to cool off for a few days. It took a whole three weeks, you greeted him with affection after five days of waiting for him to calm down.
He ignored your greeting. Sometimes going in the middle of the night to kill. You were concerned, why is he like this? Did you do something? ‘You fucked up again.’
After a whole month of giving him affection, you gave up. He doesn't look at you, nod at your words or let you hold his hands. You were done, maybe you did fuck up..
When he came back, he had found you on the desk with a pen and your diary. It was the middle of the night, you were clearly wasting your time writing something probably stupid.
When he went to visit you on your room again, he was surprised to see you still writing, but it was slow. You were clearly tired, and you didn't rest? Are youa fool or something?
It was midnight when he found you watching tv in the living room, giving him a weak ‘welcome back..’ . You were out of your mind.
He had went upstairs in the morning to see you asleep, he took a step closer to inspect your face. You had eye bugs under your eyes, hair clearly messy. He was still confused of your behavior
It has been a week with the way you were acting. Going out of the house almost everyday, he thought you were meeting up with that person again. So he followed you until you went inside a hospital.
He was bewildered. Were you hurt? He went home to wait for you after that. He doesnt wanna accept that he's going soft, the shape couldn't be going soft.
When you took a step inside the house, you were quickly pulled to the side, you shriek as you felt someone grip your shoulders. It wasn't rough or gentle. It was firm
You opened your eyes to see a familiar white mask. ‘Michael.. ’ you felt his palm on your face, expecting a slap or grabbing your jaw like sometimes. You were surprised to feel his palm on your face, gentle.
You were in the verge of breaking down now, you caught his wrist and held it away from you. You shakily sighed and shook your head as you step away and descend upstairs. Michael was stuck on the floor, he was visibly shaking. Why won't you take his affection? What the HELL is your problem?
When you went to sleep that night, he had snuck inside. Staring down at your diary, he took it and flipped a page.
“Michael has been acting very strange, is it my fault? Should I go ask him like what normal people in relationship does? Maybe not. I'm not sure what will happen if I do ask him.., he had also shoved me away, causing me to accidentally getting hurt. It's fine, I hadn't told him about it, afraid he'll ignore me if i talk to him.”
Michael was, to say the least, shocked.
“I think I'll stop giving him affection, it seems that he doesn't like it.. I feel ashamed that I didn't notice right away”
He flipped another page, then another, and another. Until he's now shaking with anger, fear, and sadness. He needs to make it up to them tomorrow.
So he did, occasionally patting your head whenever he passes your form. When he did place his hand on your shoulders, you were tense. He doesn't want you to be scared of him. He placed his other hand on your face as you tightly closed your eyes.
It took a few days for you to know that he only wants to give you the same affection you gave him, you had went less and less on going to therapy and hanging out in the house. Occasionally just writing something on your diary.
Michael was, happy that you're not tense with him anymore, but he still doesn't get why you only pat his hands. He thinks that you only go outside to either go to the hospital or meet up with that person again to give them all of your affection from him.
He was angry that you're meeting up with that person, so he took it in his hands to follow you everywhere you go. Park, college, store, except for the hospital. He had found you in a coffee shop with a person. He went back home after that, going on a tantrum and breaking things. He was surprised no one heard the crashing noises and called the cops or came to the house to check on it
When you came home, the house was a mess. There were magazines on the floor, pictures of things you had gotten broken or either ripped. You were shocked, mad, and upset.
“MICHAEL! Why the hell!?”
He had stomped his way down the stairs, a knife in hand with blood in it. You guessed he went out again and did some killings. You were frustrated, you wanted to cry or do something.
When you both were on the same floor, you had demanded why he did this, and he actually just let out an angry groan or grunt. You stared at him, eyes telling him to ‘go on’
He had also almost stabbed you, probably got mad or frustrated, you didn't know why. You were hurt and upset, you guys rarely got into arguments.
After that you guys had ignored each other, the other going out of the house more often, and the other sulking inside the house or bedroom.
You had almost unalive yourself after 3 weeks of total torture. Michael finding you with a knife near your chest, where your heart is. If he didn't almost found you, he might had go on a rampage.
So when you broke down infront of him, clenching his dark blue jumpsuit and venting in his arms. He was stunned, he didn't want to go that far. Sure, he wants you to feel bad and apologize to him for doing that, but you were too stubborn and knew you wouldn't do that first.
After the incident, he had shown more appreciations of your affection to him, hugging you from behind when you stood in the living room, lost in thought. Or when you hug him as a greeting.
Phew, that was long(´∀`). I hope you pals, gals, and non-binary hoes have a nice day. And remember, if you feel guilty, don't keep it to yourself, find a paper or a spare notebook and write your day in it.
I don't like this one so I'm sorry if it isn't really that good, I'll try my best next time(*^▽^*)
I drew a greeting into Russian DBD ASK....again
Do you have any questions?
Michael will listen to you, but can you survive after this?