have been hit with a new hyperfixation on an AU idea and I could not help but draw mookle as part of the CARS universe!! But I have one big problem - Would his mask be like A or B? Or something else... I am so excited to draw the other slashers too :3c!!
Synopsis: The Reader gets black-out drunk and decides to flirt with Michael. Michael takes advantage of her inebriated state.
Here’s something sort of experimental. I just let my fingers type and didn’t look back. I felt like messing around with stream of consciousness so that’s why the reader’s perspective is so wack heheh.
Blackout | Michael Myers x Female Reader (NSFW)
She fell against him, his name oozing past her lips like thick syrup, slurred and slow, and when she breathed against his face he could taste the liquor there, both sweet and sour. Michael exhaled sharply through his nostrils to rid his lungs of the stench. He placed his hand flat over her mouth, though it covered more than just her mouth— it dwarfed her entire face. He shoved the girl hard. She fell back into the pillows. She lay still where she landed, a dumb look plastered on her face, and for a moment Michael could hear himself think again.
But then the girl began to giggle. Her snickering rose into a shrill cackle. She snorted. The drunken stupor swept off her body in heavy waves until she was drowning in it.
“You’re such… an… asshole.” She slurred.
He watched without turning his head as she outstretched her arm, reaching confidently for him again, wholly undeterred by his warning. Her defiance trod on his brittle patience and snapped it like twigs underfoot. His jaw clenched up. This time when he lunged at her, it would be her throat; and he would squeeze and squeeze and halt the stinking breath in her lungs and not let up until his comfortable, familiar silence had been restored.
But when her small hands fell upon his groin— when she groped him through his coveralls, rubbing and palming, her busy fingers trying to burrow beneath the deep blue fabric— Michael’s grisly intentions became suspended in time. All the heat of his body pooled instead between his legs; and Michael was still irritated, yes, but now he was irritated and aroused, and there did not exist a more dangerous combination.
The girl must have felt his member growing hard because a grin was spreading dully across her face. As she freed his arousal and took it in her hand he did not stop her. Her grip was tight as she pumped her fist around him, eager to please, but she was far too slow. Too steady. The head of his penis was hot and swollen and the girl’s fingers were cold and clammy, and it was all thoroughly unsatisfying; not tight enough; not warm enough; and Michael needed more. Much, much more.
~
Your head churns horribly and your world has gone dark and you suppose the alcohol is to blame for the former, but the reason for the later evades you, and so you try to sit up and when you do that something strong pushes your head back down, down into something soft, and suddenly there is a pressure against your backside and it probes between your legs like a burrowing mole, and then it thrusts into you like a rod, and it splits you in two, and you hear yourself begin to moan, or at least you think it’s you moaning because who else is in the room besides Michael, and thinking of Michael reminds you of how badly you need him to fuck you, and you whine and try to sit up again, and he grunts and shoves you back down into the couch again, and oh, that’s right, you’d forgotten, he’s already fucking you.
It hurts in more ways than one. A sharp pain, deep inside. A stretching pain, all around. But at least you are wonderfully full now, full of Michael’s dick, and that’s all that really matters.
You lie still after that because if you move too much you think you might throw up. And then you think at some point that Michael comes inside of you. And then you don’t think anything for awhile.
~
The girl slumped forward and became dead weight beneath his hands. She slid off his penis and fell face-first into the cushions. Michael let her fall. He zipped himself up. After that he went about his business— he dug in the refrigerator for something to eat. He stood by the front door and watched through the window for signs of movement in the darkness, waited patiently, listening for the pull of the voices— but nothing stirred outside, and the voices never came to shove him out the door, out into the night. He turned away from the window and started for the stairs.
The girl was still on the couch, he noticed, as he passed the living room. She had not moved from where she collapsed. Her pants were still pooled around her ankles and she was bent over, perfectly bared to him. His stare fell to her dripping entrance. It lingered there. He studied the mess he had made.
Between his own legs, heat again…
~
Awareness hits you like a train. You come alive all at once, though immediately you wish for unconsciousness. A horrible ache pounds at your skull and penetrates deep into your brain. You groan at the effort it takes to lift your head from the couch, your world swimming and churning…
…and you realize that your pants are gone. Livid bruises dot your hips and thighs. Your pelvis is sore and aching. And your cunt is a sloppy, oozing, dripping mess.
There’s so much.
You sit up. More of it comes gushing out of you, clammy and cool against your skin. You gawk down at the state of yourself.
Michael’s cum has dried against your stomach, your ass, your thighs, you hair, and as the sensation of taste returns to you, you realize that you can taste it on your tongue, your lips.
You screw up your face in thought. You grasp at fleeting memories. You try your hardest to remember— but the memories never return, and in the end you are left only to fantasize about all the ways that Michael pleasured himself with your body last night.
In the Dead of Night, You Comfort Me - Dracula x Reader (DBD)
Summary: The Entity not only feasts on sacrifices but strives to break down survivors into nothing but a shell of a human.
Warnings: Mentions of trauma, depression, suicides, minor blood and bruising
A/N: Took me a few days to write. I had an original idea prompt to write about where the reader meets Dracula for the first time, but nah, I love my angsty content 😈
Available on AO3
The sweat soaking into your clothes cling to your skin, and the mixture of dirt and fresh blood smeared on several parts of your body. Your hair became wet clumps from running nonstop. You felt disgusting.
Your knees sank into the wet dirt. The damp cold dirt sent chills up your body and your fingers stretched and dug into the dirt in an attempt to ground yourself from the past several trials. Even though everything around you isn't real, it helped keep you from spiraling. The pounding of your heart that once was stalking you at every waking moment was replaced with sounds of crickets quietly chirping around you.
Just a couple of minutes of peace you beg to yourself.
Beads of sweat rolled past your forehead down to your nose causing a tickling sensation. You go to wipe your nose to then see someone standing over you. You knew who it was just by the slightly dirty cape, but you didn't bother to meet his eyes. You slowly return your hand to the ground. You weren't much in a mood to be asked why you are laying in filth.
"What has brought you such ample distress?" The once daunting voice that left you terrified only now brings a sliver of comfort to your depressing life.
The same voice who almost killed you. The nails that stabbed your arm to prevent from running left a mark that you will never forget the feeling. And the eyes that were brighter than the full moon burned into your soul. But you never forgot how swiftly his expression changed out of nowhere. Almost as if he had made a great mistake. A name slipped from his mouth; quiet but loud enough to hear who he called you. A woman named "Lisa" his voice broke.
You look up at Dracula who patiently waits for an answer. You shrug your shoulders in response. "I just don't understand." You mumble.
You look back down. Your fingers clench the soil as a lump crawls toward your throat. "I thought if I do what it wants maybe just maybe it will send me back home. But I was wrong." The bottom of your lip slightly twitches. "Maybe, just maybe if I let them kill me it will get bored of me and then it'll send me somewhere far from here."
"My dear, your life of damned immortality shouldn't give you any reason to end your life innumerable times knowing you will come back." The gentleness of his voice made your eyes swell.
"No, you don't understand. I feel everything when I die. Those hooks they throw me on; I can feel it stabbing my heart. Every bit of pain I feel is so slow... And when I'm alone, I can feel their hands grab and rip me apart." You work up the courage to look at him again but with tears streaming from your eyes. "All I want is some fucking peace."
Rather than watching your mental break down, Dracula bends down to reach your arms. His large slender fingers carefully wrap around your biceps and keeping his strength in mind to not squeeze you too tight. He helps you stand on your feet. His hands then move to your face and allowing his thumbs to trace every flawed texture that stained your skin. His touch felt endearing and tender as always. The same touch that healed your wounds from previous trials and held you when you cried in his arm's multiple times.
"I may have not suffered in vain as many times as you have, but I won't allow anything to happen to you while I'm around."
His body felt cold but comforting from the sweat and filth that caked your body. You feel embarrassed from how unpresentable you are compared to him, but your grimy self didn't bother him in the slightest. He was too focused on your frantic state. You eagerly wanted to return the favor knowing you may not see him for a while again, but you didn't dare yourself to stain his face either from the dirt on your hands.
You knew he cared about you after all the times he looked out for you, but you couldn't help the sliver of pessimism crawling towards the front of your thoughts. After all, he had mistakenly thought you were his dead wife. Maybe that was the motivation to keep you alive when you were around him, you thought. Did he truly care about you? Or did he only care that your resemblance to someone he lost a long time ago is what made feel like his old self.
"Do you only keep me alive because I look like her?"
The question bothered him. He figures Trevor had shared his stories around the campfire for you to find out about his past. He didn't want to admit it, but you were right. Truthfully, he only pursued his last wife because she was a splitting image of Elisabetha and now you because you bare some similarity. He couldn't bring himself to kill you back then and continues to keep you alive.
"Would you have still cared for me if I didn't look like her at all?"
"Forgive me." Was all he could say from the long awkward silence he brought to you. "Perhaps it was why I originally intended to let you live. But if I had learned about you then what I know now, I would have never left those marks on your arms." His thumb brushes along the bottom edge of your faintly bruised lip. "I've spent enough time with you to know there's more than her that I see in you. You still press onward from everything I taught you and I see how much you care for your mortals despite everything you've been through. But this isn't the beloved I know."
"I'm sorry. I'm just so tired of having to survive every minute. I'm so exhausted of being hurt and killed. All I want is to be with you." You confess.
Through your rough tears, he could see how desperate you were to leave, but in reality, there wasn't much he could do about it. The Entity was strict. "I promise you I will find a way for you to no longer suffer like this anymore. But promise me from here on out you will endeavor anything. I can't allow to see you so broken in my arms. It pains me."
"I promise." You immediately blurt through your quiet cries.
"There is no longer a need to shed more tears. You're safe with me." He reassures.
You feel his lips press against your forehead, a short but intimate feeling of reassurance and exchange of feelings. His hands held you tight and his fingers press into your skin to feel every bit of you. He pulls you closer to him with his arms wrapped around you. No sound of a heartbeat, only a heavy sigh.
"If I had my way, I would show you how much I can worship you." He whispers.
If only you could stay like this with him forever.
Author Note : hii everyone I haven’t written anything in about a year so I’m definitely a bit rusty, this takes place about 5 years after Lisa’s passing. Vlad is definitely a bit ooc and some things maybe be far fetched but I hope you enjoy <3 feedback is appreciated
Trigger Warnings: gender neutral reader, mentions of blood, betrayal, Vlad and reader have slight argument but a guarantee happy ever after. Self doubt ( I do believe that is everything, if anything else lmk. )
In the dimly lit room, you watched him with concern as he sat in a corner, his eyes fixed on the darkness outside the window. Vlad was a vampire, cursed with a thirst for blood that he struggled to control. Years ago he never thought much about drinking blood, but this coming year its all he could think about. You knew that he would never drink blood from you, no matter how much you insisted. He feared losing control and hurting you,even in the depths of his own hunger.
For a while, he refused to feed off anything - not animals, not humans. His refusal to nourish himself left him weak and on the brink of collapse, but he remained stubborn in his decision to protect you from his vampiric urges.
You couldn't bear to see him suffer this way. You pleaded with him, confronted him, begged him to help himself. But he wouldn't hear about it. He was determined to remain steadfast in his resolve, no matter the cost. It was evident why he had given up drinking blood – the pain of losing his first love, the ache of her absence lingered even five years later.
He professed his love for you and assured he had moved on, but there are moments when doubt creeps in. Yet, amidst it all, his affection shines through in the gentleness of his touches, the coolness of his kisses, and the sincerity of his actions. In those moments, you can sense the depth of his love, reassuring you of your place in his heart, even as traces of his past love story still twine with his present.
With a gentle hush in your steps, you approached his chair, almost certain that he sensed your presence long before you made a sound. As you softly spoke his name, "Vlad honey? Are you coming to bed soon?" You knew well that sleep eluded him, but the comforting routine of bedding down together drew you close. The anticipation of your impending wedding day hung sweetly in the air, echoed by the delicate glint of the engagement ring he meticulously fashioned with you in mind. You put your hand on his shoulder for comfort and waited for his response.
As the clock struck midnight, Vlad's silhouette was still illuminated by the glow of the fireplace. Concerned, you tried to give him a kiss on the cheek, not before noting the tired lines etched on his face. "You shouldn't be up this late, dear. You know how cranky you are in the morning, and we have a big day ahead of us," . Vlad responded, usually attentive to your words, replied airily, dismissing your concern.
"You didn't answer the question, Vlad," you mumbled, puzzled by his behavior. The air in the room felt heavy with unspoken words, and Vlad's distant gaze made you uneasy. Suddenly, he stood up, his imposing height towering over you, and guided you out of his study. "I'll come to bed later," he reassured you, his voice carrying a weight you couldn't quite place.
As he bid you goodnight, his parting words lingered in the silence of the hallway. "Please get some rest. I'll see you in a bit." His cryptic promise sent shivers down your spine, leaving you to wonder what secrets hid behind the facade of his usual composed demeanor. With a heavy heart, you retired to bed, the mystery of Vlad's late-night pursuits weighing on your mind like an unshakeable shadow.
As you climbed back into bed with your emotions swirling in your head like a whirlwind, you consciously tried to push aside the questions about why he had acted the way he did. Deep down, you had theories but your understanding of vampires was limited, especially when it came to someone like him. He was no ordinary vampire, he was the king of vampires, he was Dracula. The way he defied common vampire traits by not burning in sunlight and surviving without the need for blood for five whole years, as today marked the anniversary, left you perplexed of to why he wouldn't let you help him. Why he just wouldn't indulge himself and drink blood. It didn't even have to be from you. You were worried for him.
'were you not enough to help him, what was wrong with him?'
You were deep in thought, replaying the recent events in your mind when Vlad's voice jolted you back to reality.
"You know I can hear your thoughts, right darling." His voice was soft, almost teasing. You turned to see him standing there, his piercing gaze locked on you.
You tried to mask your surprise but failed as Vlad cleared his throat and sat on the edge of the bed. He patted a spot beside him, silently urging you to join him.
Feeling a mix of curiosity and apprehension, you obliged and sat down, keeping your eyes fixed on him.
"Please, allow me to explain my behavior these past couple of hours," Vlad said, his tone sincere. "I know I may have seemed distant, but it's not because of you. It's something that has been weighing on me for some time now."
you grabbed his cold hand and gave him a gentle squeeze, he squeezed your hand in return drew in a breath of air and began explaining himself.
"As you are aware of what I am and the things I've done. I'm not a good person, and I want you to know your family, village, and friends will turn against you for marrying me," he stated, his voice laced with a mix of resignation and defiance.
the air was thick with tension as the words echoed between the bedroom walls. His confession hung heavy in the air like a shadow, ominous and foreboding. His crimson gaze bore into your soul, a silent plea mingled with a threat.
But his revelation barely made a ripple in the depths of your heart.You reached out and gently clasped his hand, a silent reassurance that you were not afraid.
"Okay, but what's really bothering you?" you asked, your voice soft and filled with genuine concern as you met his gaze, drawn like a moth to a flame to his dark red eyes that held a myriad of unspoken emotions within their depths.
A moment of silence passed between you, the only sound the whispering of the wind through the branches above. Then, in a voice barely above a whisper, he spoke the words that held the weight of a promise and a warning.
"If you want to be mine, I will turn you. I won't make the same mistake twice."
His words hung in the air like a dark omen, a choice laid bare before you. To embrace a life of darkness and uncertainty by his side, or to turn away and live a life without him, untouched by the shadows that clung to him like a second skin.
But as you looked into his eyes, you saw not a monster, but a man burdened by his past, a man capable of love despite the darkness that threatened to consume him. And in that moment, you made your choice, sealing your fate and intertwining your destiny with his in a bond that transcended the boundaries of the mortal world.
"Okay, Vlad, you can turn me." His wicked smirk sent shivers down your spine, a potent mix of excitement and fear swirling through her mind.
"Tomorrow then, after our wedding," Vlad declared, his voice low and velvety. You could feel the power emanating from him, a dark magnetism that drew you in like a moth to a flame. And despite your apprehension, you nodded, a thrill of anticipation coursing through your veins.
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