#slashers x reader

His Valentine

Summary: Recently The Entity got bored and decided to push both sides to celebrate Valentine’s Day by literally throwing it into your faces. (Un)lucky for you, The Shape is your Valentine.

Warnings: explicit, f/m, smut, p in v, reader has vagina, hair pulling, use of knife, semi non-consensual drug use, cock warning, reader is needy, Michael stinks

Word count: 2,695

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚

Right from the very beginning, when you appeared at the Trial together with the other Survivors, you noticed that everything around you looked… different. The fog surrounding you was tinged with shades of pink, flowers had appeared everywhere, and here and there stood lit candles. In various corners, you even spotted small tables set with tableware and bottles of wine.

You looked around in search of the others, but apparently the Entity had decided to scatter you across different parts of the map. You approached a nearby little table and took a bottle of wine in your hand, reading the label.

“Red wine? Seriously?” you muttered, setting the bottle down before turning on your heel and heading off in search of a generator. Maybe you’d find the others along the way, and you could talk over the state of this place. As you looked around, you noticed a tiny patch of flowers by the trees, and among them stood a generator. You quietly approached it and started repairing it, glancing around. You still hadn’t heard any screams from your teammates or the beep of a repaired generator, so you started to suspect that either the Killer was feeling lazy today, or that it was a stealthy one.

When you were close to finishing the repair, you heard heavy breathing behind you. Goosebumps ran down your back as you slowly put the pieces together, realizing who might be standing behind you. You felt a strong grip on your shoulder, and when you raised your head to look behind you, the rose that was right in front of your face, and which you hadn’t noticed, opened its petals wider and blasted some kind of pollen into your face. Suddenly, your eyes started to burn and your throat began to itch, while the sweet, heavy scent made it difficult to breathe.

The hand on your shoulder quickly withdrew, and you heard a loud gasp behind you. Despite the daze that had come over you, you sprang to your feet and started running blindly. You looked back, opening your eyes slightly, wanting to see if you could identify the Killer. Tears blurred your vision, but even so, you could make out a tall figure and a white mask. Myers stood by the generator you had just fled from, wiping the pollen off his mask and trying to rub his eyes. Apparently, he had been hit by it too, which made you happy, because it gave you a chance to escape.

Once you had gotten a safe distance away, you curled up between some crates to catch your breath and wipe the pollen off yourself. The Entity had apparently gotten bored with how things usually went (simple killing) and decided to have some fun with Valentine’s Day, which was also quite literally blowing up in your faces. You coughed, trying to get the pollen out of the back of your throat, feeling it still scratching at it. All of this made you feel hot, and with your difficulty breathing, your clothes started to feel suddenly tight. You took off your hoodie, trying to get rid of the heat, and tied the sleeves around your waist, deciding that it wasn’t helping much. You took a few more deep breaths, fighting the urge to cough, and left your hiding spot to find the others.

As time went on, you started feeling worse. Sweat appeared on the back of your neck, your lower abdomen tightened uncomfortably, and you could feel heat and tingling between your legs. You were simply aroused, which was effectively ruining your attempts to repair the last generator. In the background, you could hear David running from the Killer, shouting into the open space for you to hurry up. The only answer to his calls was another generator explosion. Right after that, you heard him scream in pain, probably being killed by Michael.

You stepped away from the generator and made your way along the wall of the shack, trying to focus on listening to the sounds of the night. You hoped the hatch had appeared somewhere nearby, which would practically be a gift from fate, because you were literally struggling to stay on your feet in the state you were currently in. You pulled down the collar of your T-shirt, trying to steady your breathing.

And then you saw it. In the middle of the map was an open hatch, with pink fog spilling out of it. You breathed a sigh of relief and rushed toward it, mentally patting yourself on the back. Throughout the entire Trial, you had managed to avoid the Killer, partly because you could barely move, and partly because of the fear you felt toward Myers. The man had always terrified you, not only because he was a fucking tank, but also because of the way he was. He stood, watched, and murdered in cold blood, often more for himself than for the Entity.

Just as you were about to jump into the hatch, a strong arm grabbed you around the waist and pulled you away from the exit. You cried out in surprise, watching as the hatch was slammed shut with a single kick. You began struggling, regretting that you hadn’t brought any weapon with you that could have helped you break free from his grip. You held your breath after catching the smell of old blood, sweat, and God knows what else.

When Michael grabbed you by the neck, turning you to face him, a quiet moan escaped your lips. Both of you froze at the unexpected sound. Your neck had always been a sensitive spot, and because of the arousal you were currently feeling, the sensation was doubled. You looked at him, gripping his wrist with both hands. His bright blue eyes stared at you, one hidden behind a milky barrier, probably from some kind of injury, while the other had a pupil dilated to its absolute limit. He must have been feeling the effects of the pollen too, you thought, hearing how heavily he was breathing.

Suddenly, the world spun, and you were thrown onto the flower-covered ground, a heavy groan escaping you. For a moment, you couldn’t catch your breath after your back hit the ground, but you quickly rolled onto your stomach and pushed yourself up, trying to get away from the Killer. Without success, because long fingers clamped around your arm like a vise, and you were thrown back onto the ground. You landed face-first in the flowers, causing even more pollen to get into your nose.

You tried to rise, but those same fingers gripped your hair and forced your face into the dirt, making escape impossible. You felt Michael settle over you, his long legs coming down on either side of your thighs, caging you in. Suddenly he pulled your hair hard, lifting your head, which drew another moan from you—you yourself no longer knew whether from pleasure or pain. Something about this behavior pleased you, but you blamed it on the flowers

You heard heavy, rapid breathing at your ear, which sent shivers down your spine. You didn't know what to think about any of this. Normally it would all be over by now; you'd already be limping back to the campfire after he stuck his knife in you. But now it was different. Decidedly different, because never before, up until this moment, had you felt his erection against your ass.

"M-Michael…" you whimpered, not knowing exactly what you wanted to say. Your voice was hoarse.

Your hair was yanked again, drawing another moan from you. Suddenly a knife appeared in your field of vision, only to be plunged into the ground right after, and then you were flipped onto your back. The man above you effectively blocked out the dark sky with his broad shoulders, settling himself between your legs. The hand that had been gripping your hair moments ago now closed around your throat. You moved beneath him, rubbing your thigh against his groin.

He stilled, but the pressure on your throat didn't ease one bit. For several seconds you stared into each other's eyes. Michael's darting gaze kept flickering from your face to your body and back, as if he didn't know what was happening. From what Laurie had told you by the campfire, Michael had spent most of his life in a psychiatric hospital. There was a high probability that he didn't fully know how to deal with the side effect of the pollen.

With his free hand, he traced along your stomach toward your chest, only to hesitate for a moment at the end. You bit your lower lip, feeling the ache between your legs grow even stronger, almost unbearable. Did you want this? Not really—Michael was a brutal murderer, and not one for hygiene on top of that. Were you currently listening to your reason? Not in the slightest. Arousal had taken over, clouding your mind in a fog, probably a pink one.

A strong hand closed around your breast, a little too hard. You moaned, partly from pain, partly from pleasure, but loud enough that it certainly didn't escape Michael's attention. He looked at you, tilting his head to the side. Your face turned furiously red. You probably looked pathetic right now—all flushed, moaning beneath him.

His hand moved higher, grabbing your collar and with a sudden, forceful motion ripped the t-shirt, baring your breasts. You cried out at the sudden chill, which was immediately replaced by the warmth of a large, calloused hand. Added to that was a single, grinding thrust of his hips, his erection pressed against your crotch, which made your eyes roll back.

That single movement made Michael suck in air loudly. After a moment, however, he continued with slow movements of his hips, as if discovering new sensations. You, in turn, began moaning more and more frequently from pleasure, ignoring the feeling of shame that had appeared in your mind.

After a few moments, the feeling between your legs became unbearable. It seemed the killer felt discomfort too, because he stopped to grab your pants. He tried to aggressively unbutton them, but with his hand still clamped around your throat, it was no easy feat. You raised your hands to help him when suddenly he let go of the clothing to reach for the knife stuck in the ground by your head, wrenching it from the earth to then slice your pants along the inner thigh. The knife was plunged back into the ground, and Michael grabbed the slit material and pulled, tearing the fabric. A feeling of cold struck your wet crotch, your panties completely soaked, which without a moment's delay were also ripped apart. You gasped, suddenly feeling shy under his heavy gaze.

Michael looked down between your legs, still pressing you to the ground with his hand on your throat, fortunately easing the pressure slightly. With his free hand, he traced along your wet folds, as if familiarizing himself with the sight. Was this his first time seeing a (nearly) naked woman? Perhaps. He toyed with you, sliding and pressing with his fingers, until finally you clamped your legs around his hips from the slowly building tension in your lower abdomen. He jerked his head up and looked at your face.

"Michael… I need you inside me," you said quietly on an exhale, feeling your cheeks grow even redder.

Michael looked as if he were debating with himself for a moment about what to do, until finally he removed his hands from you and reached for the zipper of his coveralls. With one tug, he unzipped it, slightly damaging it. Underneath he had a black t-shirt that was stretched tight across his torso, apparently the wrong size.

He reached down into his boxers to pull out his cock, which made you pause for a moment. True, Michael was built like a tank—tall, massive—but somehow it had never occurred to you that his member could be like that too. You hesitated, looking at it.

"M-Michael, I think it's too— Ah!" you moaned mid-sentence when he ignored you and slid his cock along your wet crotch. Apparently he didn't care whether you'd be able to take him at all, because soon you felt him trying to push the tip inside, pressing against your entrance. "Wait…!"

But Michael had no intention of waiting, nor of stopping. He began pressing against your entrance, forcing his way inside you. It hurt, which you made perfectly clear to him, but apparently your screams went in one ear and out the other.

You grabbed his shoulder and squeezed, digging your nails into the coveralls. Michael kept going until he was fully inside you. He paused, as if trying to get used to the new sensation. You closed your eyes for a moment, trying to relax to get rid of the pain.

After a while, he started moving his hips back and forth, drawing more moans from you, which slowly turned into moans of pleasure. The hand that had been clamped around your throat returned to its place, once again restricting your ability to breathe. Fortunately, it wasn't strong enough to make you lose consciousness.

The thrusts, which had been slow at first, gradually became faster, more brutal, accompanied by quiet grunts from beneath the mask. Michael grabbed you under the knee, lifting your leg up and pressing it against your chest for better leverage. Because of this movement, his cock drove deeper into you, which brought tears streaming down your face from pleasure.

Over time, your eyes began rolling back into your skull, and your moans became shorter but more intense. You could feel that the tension which had been building throughout the Trial was about to find its release. Michael apparently was also close to orgasm, because he leaned further toward you, brushing his mask's cheek against yours.

Ragged breathing, quiet grunting, and the pressure on your clit made you let out a loud, long moan, grabbing his hair with your hand. Your legs clamped tighter around his hips, pulling him against you, as if you were afraid he would pull away before your orgasm finished.

But Michael had no intention of pulling out of you, because the moment you tightened around him, he came too, freezing in place, pressing himself against you. His breath trembled, as did his shoulders, and his body slowly began pinning you to the ground with its weight. You lay motionless for a while, breathing loudly, until you patted him on the shoulder.

"Michael, you're too heavy…" you said quietly, hoping he would get off you. It wasn't his hand depriving you of breath—it was his body, which probably weighed a ton, plus his smell mixing with the sweet scent of the flowers, which irritated your nose even more.

After a moment, Michael got up and pulled out of you, causing all the cum to slowly start leaking out of your pussy. You propped yourself up on your elbows, watching him fasten his coveralls. You looked at your clothes and swallowed loudly. Maybe the arousal had subsided, but you looked like a complete wreck. Your t-shirt and pants were torn, exposing everything. You just hoped no one would be waiting for you at the campfire.

The killer grabbed your arm and pulled you up, setting you on your feet, which buckled under you. If he hadn't been holding you, you would have collapsed to the ground. And that would have resulted in staying there until you recovered. Michael, however, wanted to get rid of you as quickly as possible, because he dragged your stumbling form to the gate, opened it, and then shoved you through. You didn't complain. He probably didn't fully understand what had just happened and wanted to think it over alone. You yourself felt confused after all of this too.

The upside of this encounter was that in subsequent Trials, you had the possibility of escaping through the hatch, or an open gate awaited you. Well, unless Michael was waiting for you at one of those places—then your exit was delayed.

mano meilė – my love

Just little hurt/comfort nonsense

Winter. Incredibly cold for this place, with a bone-chilling, dank wind. That alone should have told you something, but it didn't.

Dr. Lecter. Hannibal. From the very beginning, your own intuition, somewhere on the edge of consciousness, was screaming at you that something was wrong here. Too elegant, too perfect and flawless to be human. But back then, you chalked it up to professional suspicion and paranoia. You were simply too close to Will not to worry about him. Years of work and his gift would leave a mark on anyone. And Jack wasn't in a hurry to interrupt the psychiatrist and profiler's relationship, so you followed his lead.

How wrong you were.

Will was breaking. Slowly, but surely, like brittle porcelain of a cracked cup splitting under the pressure of boiling water. It was only a matter of time before the crack would spread. Hannibal was devouring him like a spider, wrapping its web around a careless, overly trusting butterfly. And the butterfly was melting under the extraordinarily fine attention, oblivious to the poison consuming its own body.

But there was something else about this man. Something that made the hairs on your body stand on end with a dull shudder, and your heart pound a march in your ears. Animal fear. That maddening, primal urge, like a doe feels in the face of a predator hunting her down. You didn't know where this feeling came from. Was it the reddish glint in his eyes, or the sheer relish with which he drank a strange dark liquid at dinner, as if it were the most exquisite wine in the world? He called it wine. But time and again, a metallic note reached your nose.

You stayed silent, perhaps waiting. And Will was melting like a candle. He was changing. Slowly, under the hand of a skilled surgeon, stitching stitch after stitch. First, it was an almost puppy-like tilt of his head, then the speed of his speech, and the almost childish delight with which he told you about him. Hannibal had invited you both to dinner more than once. And each such time was like a performance before a skilled trainer. You must have been changing too, otherwise you wouldn't have allowed this to happen. Unexpected visits, late-night conversations, unobtrusive shared meals. He was playing with you. And all you could do was convulsively grip his hand as you walked together towards your own death.

You had long since ceased to understand what you felt. On one hand, there was maddening anxiety for Will. His nightmares became stronger, more vivid. You started rushing out of the house more often to pick him up somewhere on the road on a dark night after another episode. The way his trembling hands clutched the blanket you wrapped him in, before helping him into the car with the heater on, was forever etched in your mind. After such "fun" nights, you always drove him to your place. It wasn't that you hadn't thought about moving in together; it was just that your home had become a quiet haven for Will. The unobtrusive jingling of the wind chime above your living room window, the dim light, and the warmth of the fireplace relaxed his tense shoulders. And you were just there, grounding him with your presence. In those moments, Will seemed almost like a child, lost without a steady parental hand nearby, nuzzling his wet nose into any passing hand like a cowering puppy hoping for a gentle stroke.

On the other hand, this side of Will evoked in you an almost ecstatic intoxication. Surely a consequence of Hannibal. Those wet eyes, trembling hands, the tremor throughout his body. You stood and watched Graham. And behind you, your neck was tickled by the almost grave-like breath of the man. He touched you, took you by the chin, guiding you, forcing you to watch the profiler's psychosis. You could feel his smile on your skin. That animalistic, feral grin and the hunger in his eyes when a thin trickle of blood flowed from Graham's nose due to exhaustion.

Look.

We made him this way.

You don't know why you didn't stop him. Perhaps for the same reason Will never finished off that psychiatrist. You had grown attached. You were both infected with this poison, without which it was already impossible to live. And the pain was sweet.

Was this love? Hardly. But there was something in this obsession that forced you to call it that.

You slowly dissected your own heart, severing every small artery and vein from the vital organ. You ripped that pulsing flesh from your torn-open chest. Only to place it into his hungry, wolfish maw.

You vaguely remember that day. It must have been a sixth sense, or just a stupid coincidence. It was a full moon, so you thought it wise to head straight to Will's in case another episode hit him. The roads were as empty as usual, and the grey streets were flooded with silvery moonlight. A cool breeze tickled your skin, but there was nothing soothing about it now, only the feeling of an approaching storm.

When you pulled up to Will's house, you noticed that all the dogs were outside. Some were whining, some were curled up in tense little balls and met you with sad looks. Winston was sitting by the front door, desperately scratching at it with his paw. You thought Will just wanted solitude, although it was usually accompanied by hugs from his furry family. Maybe today was different.

You pushed the door open. And froze.

Will was lying on the floor, curled into a desperate fetal position, making quiet sounds like a wounded dog whimpering. You could barely see him in the dark of the living room, but you could see the tousled dark curls and pale skin covered in something black in the moonlight.

Hannibal sat on the sofa, watching the scene with undisguised pleasure on his face. Now his face seemed even more unnatural and waxy than before, his body looked relaxed, one leg crossed over the other. In his hand was his usual glass of wine, which he lazily swirled in time with Graham's strained breathing. His gaze slid over you.

"Our dear friend decided to join the fun?"

Fun. You didn't like that word, not from his lips.

In two strides, you were beside Will, scooping him into your arms and pressing his body to your chest. Will mumbled something incoherent. Only now did you notice how badly he was shaking. His hands desperately clutched your shirt, trying to ground himself and regain a sense of reality. You looked at your palm, which had just touched Graham's neck. Blood. That black "something" was blood on Will's neck. Nausea rose in your throat. You cupped Will's cheek, forcing him to look at you. But his gaze was so cloudy, feverish, as if he didn't even recognize you.

"Shh... shh, I've got you," you mumbled in a trembling voice, burying your face in his tousled hair. You shot an icy glare at Hannibal. "What did you do to him?"

Hannibal took a sip from his glass and set it aside.

"You've always been protective, my little friend, haven't you?" You were starting to feel sick from that smug smirk. "I did nothing that could harm him. I merely allowed his nightmares to cease."

"He's bleeding!"

A low, condescending chuckle reached your ears.

"Foolish human. Even if that were so, I would never let him die."

The man rose from the sofa and, with the leisurely gait of a sated predator, walked to the window. He clasped his hands behind his back, admiring the milky light of the moon on the fine dusting of snow.

You didn't even turn around. The only thing that mattered to you was the trembling bundle that Will had become. His skin was pale and cold, and you desperately tried to warm it with the heat of your own body. From time to time, he would open those cloudy eyes the color of a stormy sky, and it brought a tired smile to your face. At least he was still with you.

"Will, don't fall asleep... Come on, stay with me, okay?"

You slid your fingers along his tense neck, where two ragged puncture wounds now stood out, like snake bites. Will made a soft sound when you touched them, and you muttered a brief apology. The skin around the wounds was throbbing and reddened.

"Look at him." You flinched as you felt that cold breath on your neck. Hannibal had approached, and you hadn't even noticed how. Now he was kneeling behind you, and seemed completely unbothered by his position. He covered your hand on Will's neck with his own and pressed it against the wound. Graham let out a quiet pained groan, weakly twitching at the touch. You wanted to pull away, but Hannibal wouldn't allow it.

"Look how beautiful we've made him. So beautiful and broken. Tonight, he came to me himself. I found him by the road, alone and broken, with scraped knees..."

"HE WAS LOOKING FOR ME!" you snapped, lunging forward and breaking free from that cold grip. You pulled Will closer to you; he obediently nestled against your chest, seemingly finally drifting into peaceful sleep.

"Perhaps. But I was the one who found him, little human. His nightmare is over. Look at him."

And you turned your gaze to Will.

Those soft dark hair in perpetual disarray, no matter how many times you tried to comb them with your fingers or a brush. Pale skin with a fine network of veins on his upper eyelids and faint shadows under his eyes. The usual furrow between his brows was now smoothed out – Will was sleeping peacefully and serenely for the first time. And yet, he was different now. It seemed something had changed in the very air of this house. Something you couldn't put into words but felt with every cell of your body.

You slid your palm along that unnaturally cold cheek. Or was it your skin that burned with fire?

"...what did you do to him?"

"Merely granted him peace. I showed him what life could be like if one starts living, rather than merely existing."

Hannibal's hand slid through your hair, tucking a strand behind your ear. His fingers traced down your neck, pausing for a moment at your pulse point. You didn't even realize you'd held your breath, and let out a soft exhale through your mouth.

"I gave him the same thing I intended to give you. Immortality." His voice sounded soft and tender, like the sweetest honey you'd ever known. You frowned.

"...what are you talking about?"

A smirk slipped into his voice. "Oh, don't play the fool, my dear human. You know what I'm talking about. You know who I am. You've always known. From the very first dinner, I felt your piercing gaze on me. You were just waiting for the puzzle to come together, waiting for the opportunity to tell someone about it without fear of sounding like a mad paranoid."

Could he read minds? Or were you so predictable that it could be read on your face? No, then Will would have noticed much earlier. So there was something else here. Something in your thoughts that had indeed turned out to be true. Terrifying, unreal, but true to the very bone.

"You're not human, Hannibal. Who are you? What are you?"

"Why ask something you already know the answer to, my dear friend?"

Because you desperately wanted to believe your thoughts were merely foolish paranoia, not bitter truth.

"Exactly. You know the truth. You know who I am. And yet you still sit here. Don't you feel it? The bone-chilling fear of a predator. Aren't you afraid?"

"I have nothing to fear. I'm already dead."

You were dead. Inside. Always. You'd simply, at some point, come to terms with the fact that what you felt inside didn't match your shell. At some point, you met Will and made protecting him the main goal of your life. You wanted to be his anchor, just to feel needed. To feel alive.

"Wonderful." His velvet voice was very close now.

And the next moment, pain pierced your throat. Excruciating, flesh-chilling, but intoxicatingly sweet. Something sharp entered your skin with a disgusting tearing sound, and the next instant you felt yourself leaving your own body. Literally. As if that red liquid flowing down the throat of the bloodthirsty monster was taking all your doubts and pain with it. You lazily wrapped one arm around Will's body, and with the other, you buried your fingers in Hannibal's hair, pulling him closer.

"Good little human," he whispered, finally pulling away from your throbbing, painful flesh.

You felt weak and small. Your body slowly sank onto the carpet alongside Will. He looked less pale than before.

Hannibal carefully lifted Will into his arms and laid him on the sofa, placing a pillow under his head. Then he returned to you. The man knelt on one knee, bit his own wrist with an indifferent expression, and pressed the open wound to your lips.

You didn't even need to be forced; your body acted on instinct. You pressed your lips to his cold skin and began greedily consuming the stranger's black blood. It didn't taste metallic or nauseating; on the contrary, it seemed extraordinarily sweet and desirable. You drank his blood like a newborn baby, finally getting its hands on real, hunger-quenching food. Hannibal patiently allowed it. He just sat before you, stroking your trembling, overtaxed head.

The twisting pain in your stomach changed to searing heat as quickly as it had appeared. For such a cold body, Hannibal's blood felt like molten steel. You desperately swallowed the blood, feeling your body gradually fill with a pleasant heaviness.

When Hannibal pulled his wrist from your lips, you let out a quiet, protesting whimper, but the man immediately shushed you softly, wiping a couple of drops of crimson blood from your cheek with his thumb.

"Quiet, mano meilė. Close your eyes," he slid his thumb over your brows and lower, forcing your eyes shut. As if by magic, you felt a leaden heaviness creeping over your body. "Let your body die. When you open your eyes, you will be able to see this world as it truly is."

Hannibal carefully putted his arms under your back and knees and lifted you off the ground. He carried you to Will's bedroom and settled you on the already made bed. After a few minutes, Will's sleepy body joined you, immediately pressing against your chest, wrapping his limbs around you like a blanket. You fell. Completely. For the first time, sleep felt strangely demanding.

Slashers That I Do Accept Asks For:

Bo Sinclair

Vincent Sinclair

Lester Sinclair

Rob Zombie Michael Myers

Jason Voorhees

Brahams Heelshire

Harry Warden

Tom Hanniger

Yautja (My OCs)

Who and/or What I Will Write:

Blurbs

Gender Neutral Reader (Default)

Male Reader

Female Reader

Child or Teen Reader (strictly platonic)

Poly Relationships (Exclusively HoW and MBV)

Who and/or What I Will Not Write:

Characters or Fandoms that are not listed

Fandom Crossovers (ex: Halloween/Friday the 13th)

Slashers maiming or abusing the reader

Pregnant reader or Parent reader

Trans reader (I'd rather not risk accidentally insulting anybody)

Smut/NSFW (I'll let y'all know if my stance on this changes)

If you have any questions about your request, feel free to message me about it!

Hello and welcome!

Please take the time to read through the rules before making a request. And, seeing as this is strictly a hobby of mine, I reserve the right to refuse a request.

Also, a friendly reminder that since I don't write smut/NSFW, this blog is 15+ and I will be making no exceptions. I will block you if you are either under 15 or your age isn't in your bio.

Asks are currently CLOSED!

My kofi is here if anyone want to leave a little something, anything helps!

Masterlists:

House of Wax

Predator

Slashers

Current Works In Progress:

There Is Life In Every Breath Part 1 [TATYB Series Part 9]

Your Tender Touch, A Soothing Balm [Vincent Sinclair x GN Reader]

Health Is Not Valued Till Sickness Comes [Sinclair Brothers x GN Reader]

David Mccall x Reader

a/n: was going to post this with a request but it disappeared after i accidentally clicked save draft bruh, so sorry to that person lol, but anyways, here’s something i’ve already been SLOWLY working on. again like i have to say to all my requests now lol, im so so so sorry it took so long 😞been busy and fixated on other things so it was difficult to get myself back on these things that i’ve had in my drafts for months now, slowly trying to get them out, if you’ve ever sent me a request, i have not forgotten about it, it’ll just take a while to get them done.

cw: David Mccall, fluff, implied obsessive behavior, implied forced sweet behavior.

icky koo’s yucky contracts ~ ♡

﹒　︵ Koo’s Soul Chamber. ﹒　⟢　﹒

_ _

⏔⏔⏔ ꒰ ᧔ෆ᧓ ꒱ ⏔⏔⏔

🫀 - SINNERS.

🫀 - SCREAM.

🫀 - HOTD.

🫀 - TWILIGHT.

🫀- AVATAR.

🫀 - MARVEL STUDIOS.

🫀 - WRONG TURN.

🫀 - MISCELLANEOUS.

⏔⏔⏔ ꒰ ᧔ෆ᧓ ꒱ ⏔⏔⏔

⠀　 ∩ ∩⠀

꒰ 𓏼 ◞ ˔ ◟ 𓏼 ꒱

╭ ○◜◝ ͡ ○◜◝ ͡ ◜◝ ͡ ╮

ꔫ OC STORIES. ꔫ

╰ ◟◞ ͜ ◟͜ ◟◞ ͜ ◞◞ ͜ ◞╯

Tags: comfort, fluff, platonic!!

Characters: Michael Myers, Jason Voorhees, Bubba Sawyer, Pennywise, Hannibal Lecter & Will Graham, Brahms Heelshire, The Axeman

Michael Myers

• Michael is quite a calm and cool father. You want to have cotton candy for dinner? No problem, he'll get himself some popcorn. You want to go to the park right now in the middle of the night and feed the ducks in the pond? He's already tying your shoelaces. Any whim of yours is immediately fulfilled. In a way, he just hasn't grown up enough to be a responsible parent himself, but at least he loves you madly.

• He is a good listener. Every day after a daycare, while Michael tries to help you eat, he listens calmly to your stories about your day. Of course, these are very ragged and emotional stories, but Michael is really interested. Sometimes he nods or tilts his head to the side like an interested puppy.

• Michael keeps all of your drawings. He has a separate box for them, covered with some of your stickers and with a bold inscription "Y/N ♡". He keeps them all the same exceptions. Even if there is only one uneven circle on this crumpled piece of paper. But damn it, you were trying to draw a circle! And it's almost round! There's an old photo of him and his little sister in the same pile.

• You gave him one of the bracelets you made in the daycare, and he doesn't take it off. For Michael, this is as important a symbol as his mask. He's sure that your bracelet brings good luck. If he lingers on the "hunt" for too long, he just casually looks down at this jewelry on his wrist and immediately throws the corpse aside. You're waiting for him at home.

• There is a real mask for you. Like his own, of course. Many children like to wear the Haddonfield Horror costume on Halloween, so it doesn't arouse suspicion. It's just that one day you saw such a mask in a shop window and started crying, saying that you want to be like Daddy. Michael couldn't resist.

• You have a small toy kitchen, although you don't really like cooking or anything like that. You like to cut these plastic fruits. With a knife. Like Daddy. Michael likes watching this, so sometimes he gives you real fruits (something soft like a banana) so you can make a snack for both of you. You're so sweet and diligent, Michael's heart is racing.

Jason Voorhees

• Jason doubted that he would be a good dad, but as soon as he saw you, his opinion changed.

• Your dad just adores you. Whenever possible, he wants to hug you, kiss your cheeks, hold your hand. Physical contact is important to him, after all, he can't talk, but by his actions he shows how much he loves you.

• Jason built a nice swing for you near your cabin in the woods. They're sturdy and comfortable enough to keep you from falling, and the seat itself is covered with blankets to keep you comfortable. In the evenings, you go out to have a little fun. Jason gently rocks you while you chatter nonsense and you watch the sunset together.

• Jason doesn't need to sleep, but you love taking care of your daddy and putting him to bed. Jason doesn't mind. In fact, he just settles on the couch with his massive body, and you walk around him on your unstable legs and try to completely cover big daddy with a blanket. But you're really trying. Jason even pretends to be asleep while you puff around him.

• You know that your dad can do his own thing during the day. These are very peculiar cases, but you don't ask questions. You just sit on the porch of your house and paint with finger paints. You're painting daddy, the house, and yourself. And a dog. Because you want a dog, but you don't know how to say it. Maybe if you learn to speak correctly, daddy will find a puppy for you.

• Someone tried to steal you once. You don't trust strangers, daddy taught you that they're bad. But at first, when you were picked up by that woman, you didn't understand what was going on. You just froze and tried to figure out what to do. But when she started carrying you away from your house, you panicked. And started crying, calling for your dad. The woman, of course, was taken aback. And Jason was already coming out of the woods with a bloody axe. He tried to do everything clean and quick so as not to scare you. You cried when you climbed into his arms, snuggled up to him. Jason's heart squeezed painfully, his baby was so scared. But he'll never give you up to anyone. You are his treasure.

Bubba Sawyer

• God, Bubba just loves you. He makes bracelets for you, toys out of bones, although Drayton brings you normal toys from the city. You're Sawyer's favorite kid.

• Bubba loves taking care of you. So he doesn't like that you're trying to eat by yourself, he loved feeding you so much! But on the other hand, he is glad that his baby is growing up and becoming independent. As long as you're not leaving your dad...

• Bubba is insanely afraid that you will grow up and realize that your dad is weird. Sure, Drayton tells you that your dad is just special, but Bubba is afraid that you'll think he's ugly. That's why he tries to spend more time with you, to show you how much he loves you, so that you love your dad in return.

• In fact, he insanely protects you from everything bad and painful. Every time he has to kill a new victim, he makes sure that you are asleep so that you don't get scared by these screams or strangers. You're his vulnerable little thing, and he'll try to keep you clean until you're old enough to learn the secret of this family.

• It's the twins who teach you how to speak most of the time. Bubba can't do this for obvious reasons, and Drayton almost always does his barbecue. And twins teache you bad words. Just because it's funny. When Bubba first heard you say "fuck!", he dropped his butcher knife on the floor. And you just laughed at such a funny dad. Later, Bubba will definitely knock on the twins' heads, but now he needs to try to explain to his baby that this is not a very good word. Perhaps if he gives you some of your favorite gummy bears, it will be more convincing.

• On more or less cool days, he will take you from home to have a picnic. Berries, fruits, some buns that he made especially for this. He knows that you have the same sweet tooth, so he does not refuse you. Bubba will just be there for you while you're having fun. He likes the way you try to run after butterflies or beautiful bugs, and then come back and bring him some bright flower. Bubba will keep it safe. Or you can just put this flower in daddy's hair. Later, the twins at home will call him an idiot in love, but he's just a madly loving and happy dad.

Pennywise

• You're his kid, who for some reason decided that being human was the most interesting thing. Accordingly, you are now developing like an ordinary human. At first, Pennywise was wildly annoyed by this. Damn it, you're a Child of Eternity! The Devourer of Galaxies! And instead of your majestic appearance, you chose to be a waddling toddler? Okay, you're cute. Maybe a little bit... Pennywise got used to it, after all, you're still his child.

• He had to interact with people a lot more to figure out how to take care of you. Your room is different from an ordinary den, it's a real rainbow paradise. Children's toys, educational games, stuffed animals. You seemed to absolutely love your human form. You especially like to do everything with crayons. All the walls in your room are painted with your colored palms. After all, you can fly or increase the size of your body to reach the farthest corner of the wallpaper and leave your mark there. Three times Pennywise redid the wallpaper in your room, but each time you got it dirty again. He just accepted it.

• Pennywise often brings you other kids. At first, you play together. But at some point, the kid takes your crayon or your favorite toy, and you eat them. Really. You don't understand how it happened, so you start crying. When Pennywise finds you, he just smiles contentedly and picks you up. For the next half hour, you'll be crying on dad's neck about your missing friend, but tomorrow Pennywise will bring you another one. He will need to teach his baby to eat properly.

• Although his species is growing fast enough, you are in no hurry to grow up and master your own characteristics. It's like you like being a toddler. Although when you're hungry, you become a real Black Hole, throw a tantrum and devour everything in the house. It's just that your little human body is not used to such an animal hunger of a monster. But Pennywise always has a human in reserve. He'll feed you a little, and then he'll explain why you feel the way you do.

• Pennywise often turns into a more or less non-attention-taking person and takes you to a trampoline center. You love all these trampolines, slides, balloons. And you're so cute when you laugh, Pennywise might get used to it. But he has to make sure that you don't accidentally eat anyone.

• Pennywise will never admit it, but he has a special fondness for you. It's like you really made him a little bit human. Sometimes when you're taking your nap, he just sits in the armchair by your crib and looks at you sleeping. He finds you strangely cute. Of course, you're his child and all that, but he's never felt this way about someone of his kind before. And he doesn't want this "human phase" of yours to end. He doesn't want to compete with you for food or anything like that, he would like you to remain his "little monster" forever, as he sometimes calls you. You make him smile almost lovingly. His baby.

Will Graham & Hannibal Lecter

• After they disappeared for other people, when they fell off a cliff, men begin a deep process of introspection and rethinking each other's lives. Other names, other documents, but the same love. And they wanted this love to take on a physical form. You. Their little angel. At first, Hannibal didn't feel much affection for you, and Will saw you as atonement for his sin to Abigail. But something has changed over time. Something in your desperate desire to be with them, in your clumsy childish smile, in your first "pa-pa" has melted their hearts.

• Hannibal was a shadow. He was always there to calm you down in the middle of the night, if you had a tummy ache or teething, he made you healthy food and treated your wounds. He learned to be gentle, just in his own way. He loved Will, and he tried to transfer this love to you, albeit with difficulty.

• Will was your favorite dad, no matter how sad it was. He knew your favorite cartoon, color, and snack. He rode you on his shoulders and gave you a puppy you both really wanted. He taught you how to pronounce words correctly and showed you how to properly wind a line on a hook so that the fish wouldn't fall off. You breathed the life in him. You became the anchor of his humanity, and he was incredibly grateful to you. Hannibal changed him, completely and irrevocably, but you didn't let him slip away.

• Hannibal made a real playground for you in the backyard of your house so that you can play there. They often sat on the porch of the house and drank tea while you frolicked in the sandbox or rode on the swing. They smiled at it, you were their heart. And then all of a sudden you'd run up and show them some beautiful rock or leaf. You wanted them to be proud of you, to see that you were useful. And they were proud, more than anything in the world.

• You've had a lot of nightmares. Children sometimes have nightmares, but Will blamed himself for that. He thought that maybe his empathy had captured you, and you could feel his own fears. And you just came to their bedroom after a bad dream, climbed on the bed and settled between them with your favorite stuffed dog. Men tenderly hugged you back, sheltering you from the rest of the world.

• You looked so much like them. Will's love for dogs and his tenderness, Hannibal's unbiased gaze and his passion for cooking. You were their beautiful baby. In the mornings, you helped Hannibal prepare breakfast for daddy (you usually chopped berries and fruits for pancakes with your plastic knife), and in the evening, you and Will prepared a surprise for father, who had gone to town on business and was due back soon. And every step or word you took felt like a victory for them. You were their sun, which they were ready to protect with their own lives.

Brahms Heelshire

• From the very beginning, Brahms took a long time to get used to you. He is a child himself deep in his mind who does not understand where children come from and how to take care of them. When you were a baby, you were a screaming, crying lump that gave him a headache. At one point, he even wanted to strangle you with a pillow in a fit of his hysteria, but you grabbed him with your strong fists, crying desperately... He froze. Looked at that desperate little face, and just realized that he almost screwed up. You were small and completely defenseless. It was.. wrong. That he was trying to hurt you. Even if you're screaming. Maybe you're trying to tell him that you're in pain, and he's acting like a fool.

• When you started sitting and then walking, it became easier. Brahms started playing with you, oh, how he loved playing with you. You were so sweet and happy. Brahms liked the eagerness with which you always hobbled after him on your unsteady legs, how you pulled your arms towards him, how you clung to his cardigan. It warmed his heart in a strange way.

• You preferred to eat only sitting on his lap, and Brahms was crazy about it. You reminded him of all those toys or even his doll, only you were alive. And you seemed to like dad's masked face. Although now he had to shave much more often because you started complaining that Daddy's cheek was making you 'boo-boo'.

• Brahms was still this inner child, although he became more attentive to the babysitters, he did not try to kill them right away. After all, his baby should be taken care of by a good person. But now the babysitters were even more shocked. First Heelshire couple showed them the doll, and then you came out of another room, snuggled up to the doll and said that it was your dad. The babysitters were terrified. And Brahms was just pleased with you, you acted correctly. Your dad was a human being, but to everyone he was a doll. It was your little secret together.

• You are one of the reasons why only women can be babysitters. He doesn't trust other men at all because he's worried about you, his baby. He even tried to harm Malcolm once, when he accidentally saw you in the kitchen (you were stealing cookies before dinner) and tried to pick you up.

• Brahms is still sleeping in his room in the walls. But sometimes he comes into your room late at night when you're sleeping. You're so cute in your sleep, so defenseless. He checks every corner for the "monsters" you're so afraid of. And then he settles on your bed, which is quite difficult with his height and size. The man takes off his mask and hugs you tightly to his chest like the most precious thing he has. You're his angel, holding back his own inner monster.

The Axe man / Abner

• You were the youngest Smurl, so tiny and innocent. Although it seems that this family didn't pay attention to you. Of course, you were fed and looked after, but it seemed that in this house everyone was on their own, the children grew up on their own. Including you. You used to sit in your little room and just play with yourself, so sad and lonely. But you're used to it. And at one point, the shadow in the corner of the room thickened. You wanted to cry, but you're too used to being quiet to even make a sound. Now there was a tall man standing in the corner. His face was stained with something, and his eyes were burning madly, but now his being did not radiate aggression.

• His baby. You were his baby, he knows that. And now you were paying for his own sin when he killed his wife. But you were his, his unborn baby, who had to live in this soulless family. He's been watching you a lot. You're a baby, then you learn to sit, hold your spoon, your first word. He wanted you to be smart enough not to be afraid of him. And Abner came closer. Slowly, so as not to scare your tiny body. His hand touched your cheek, cold and pale, dead. But you didn't pull away. And Abner took that as a good sign.

• You weren't afraid to be alone anymore. Now you had this strange, but no longer scary man by your side. He was playing with you. You didn't have many toys, but Abner brought you new ones every time. Some he found in the basement, and some he carved out of wood with his axe. It was small animals or human-like figures. He hardly ever showed up with an axe in front of you because he was afraid of scaring you.

• Abner doesn't like to talk, his ghost's voice sounds hollow like a rasp on metal. But he calls you affectionate words like "sunshine" or "my little rabbit." He puts into those words all the tenderness that remained in his cursed heart. He teaches you to be good. Abner tells you about God, why it's worth living well and following the rules. Sometimes he forgets himself and calls himself papa. He tells you to be obedient so you don't become a scary ghost like papa. But for you, he's not a ghost, but a true friend.

• Abner knows you're afraid of the dark. And at night, he helps you fall asleep by sitting on the floor next to your bed and holding your tiny hand in his. He adjusts your blanket with his free hand, strokes your hair, singing some kind of lullaby in his low, deep voice. Papa will protect you from all the nightmares.

• He's been a ghost long enough to learn to be invisible to other people. That's why he's always there for you as your invisible guardian angel. If any of your older sisters try to hurt you, Abner will push them down the stairs or set fire to their belongings. And then he'll just hold you close and comfort you. He can be strong and intimidating if he needs to be. And he needs it when he wants to protect his baby.

---

MICHAEL MYERS X READER

Isn't the most talkative person, but think he will talk to you if something about you interests him. (Example: hair color, media you are passionate about, personality). You stand out from all the others in his town.

He slowly gathers the courage to speak to you. But before he actually says anything, he'll watch you everywhere you go depending on if he's there or not. Say you two are at the store with your families. But you have no idea he's there. He'll definitely see you, though. He always pays attention to his surroundings.

But over time he'll leave small gifts at your door or window. Maybe a CD or a mixtape of music you like. He'll never sign them. He wants you to decide if he's worthy enough or not. Basically like he's testing you.

That's when you become attentive after accepting his second gift. You'll start noticing him in the halls and him fidgeting heavily with his fingers while standing by his locker.

Your friends tell you not to talk to him, but you blush and admit he was rather cute. The girls get disgusted and walk away, while you just walk over to Michael and introduce yourself. He mumbles and introduces himself as well. You two become acquainted.

After you'll start noticing a change in his behavior towards you. He'll wave at you more with his head down, he might ask for a pencil once in while, stuff that lightly changes your relationship as the days pass.

You start to realize he might be the one to have sent those silly little gifts. So one night you shove a letter through his locker and invite him to go to the local diner with you. He quietly accepts, and immediately makes it known he isn't a fan of the crowds.

So you decided to go inside alone and get your food, you both eat on the back hood of your car (or your tailgate if you have a truck.) You didn't mind going in alone though. You completely understood not liking to be around many strangers.

You have a feeling that hes not much of a talker, so you start talking about yourself and the things you like. In just a few minutes you land on the topic of K.I.S.S the band. You mention your favorite songs and your favorite member and he perks ups a little.

He mentions he's like the band since he was a kid, and has some old action figures of them in his closet. He says it so nonchalantly, but takes a while to get all the words out. And at this point you're starting to understand him a little better, maybe what not and what to do.

The small meetup goes perfectly, and to your surprise Michael actually asks you if you want to hang in his bedroom at his house while his mom was gone. He mentions the only one who will be there is his younger sister Angel whom he's babysitting.

You accept his invite, and he low-key cant stop thinking about all night. The next day Michael is waiting eagerly at his front door. His mom laughs and tells him everything will be fine as she packs her things for work. You enter the home a few minutes after she leaves, and Michael's heart is beating fast when you show up and start talking to him.

Overall your relationship in this AU is a slow burn, but in any universe with Michael it would be a slow burn ngl. He loves you a lot but doesn't show it much around other people. He's still a very quiet person but talks when he needs or wants to.

You understand him a lot more than what you used to. You know when he's feeling upset or angry. You try to comfort him the best you can, but when your successful he'll beg for a kiss.

He loves when you do things for him, and after the fact he tries to do your favorite things to. Say you cook for him or make even the smallest lovable gesture, he is doing the most to make it even. He'll steal things for you even if you don't want him to. He'll get into trouble with anyone if it means pleasing you.