Michael Myers x Female Reader - NSFW Curiosity
A bit of a read, but I really enjoy building up to a scene.
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You felt Michael looming nearby, just like he always did. His willingness to reveal his presence was an indicator he had been there for quite some time, going undetected. Even your sharp sense faltered at recognizing him early enough. It was frightening how well a behemoth of a man could maintain such a low-profile. His ability to go unnoticed for extended periods of time almost teased at the idea he had a switch to activating some sort of cloaking device. He was like a tiger, waiting and watching patiently for the time to pounce. Not only was he predatory, but he was powerful.
He moved closer, unnaturally silent, but you could see his shape in your peripherals through part of your fallen hair. You sat on the side of your bed, one leg tucked under your rump, with the other leg hanging over the side. Due to the change in your relationship with him (if one could even call it that), you have consistently left your door unlocked for awhile now. If you could confirm that he would come and go without trying anything unacceptable and violent, then perhaps he would eventually earn some of your trust. It was a game you were playing with him, and it may have even been a game Michael had committed to as well. Perhaps he was simply fooling you. You were gradually discovering that the “respect” you thought was forming between the both of you was more of a growing wariness of the others existence.
Despite knowing that Michael most likely has been entering and exiting your room more often than you guessed, he currently has been present for a long time now. He had been waiting nearby the closed bathroom door as you showered. While he had been lurking quietly, he had listened to the water and the sound of your faint singing, which echoed softly off the glass doors within the bathroom.
He was engrossed with you, and had waited around long enough to watch you exit the bathroom wrapped in a towel. Due to his natural state of covertness he watched everything, with his hands at his sides, fingers flexing from time to time. You had dropped the towel revealing your lovely nude body, before you found a loose tank-top and hip hugging shorts to wear to bed. He slightly tilted his head at you from the shadows as you brushed your hair straight before ruffling it into a mess. When all of this was done you plopped down onto the bed and sighed. You were stationary on your back, staring straight at the ceiling, then you felt it. You had felt eyes on you. How long has he been here?
Sitting up, you sat at the edge of the bed, keeping your head turned at an angle to allow the edge of your vision to watch over a darkened corner you assumed he was standing off to since he had such a knack for blending in, and that’s when he slowly stepped out.
You looked to him, and said nothing. The nightstand’s table lamp cast light across his left half, revealing the injured eye. He wore a plain white t-shirt, which seams stretched across his wide chest and broad shoulders, and his legs were adorned in light-grey sweatpants. Nighttime wear was oddly sexy. You eyed him in thought. It was a shame, really. Michael was an attractive man. He was built like a brute, towered over many, and his warm-brown hair curled at the ends. The blue in his one working eye was rich like the deep blue hues similar to the ocean. He had heightened cheekbones, dark stubble around his jawline, and an oddly ethereal face when it was not adorned with furious eyes. So much potential, and it was robbed from him at such a young age by some unexplainable variable, or perhaps he was always destined to be a psychopath. Everyone who knew what had happened during Michael’s childhood was dead, which means he was the only one who remained that held the secret and he hasn’t spoken a word in years. Many found Michael to be the embodiment of pure evil, but you had developed a strange sorrow for him.
Observing you, he continued to step closer, but it was a stiff and rather slow walk. You found his movements amusing at times because you had seen how fast he could be, yet he preferred to lumber around as silently as possible. It was like he was in a constant state of toying with everyone, hoping to catch them off guard long enough to close the distance. Then he stopped near the opposite edge of the bed, his eyes still on you.
You turned to face him and flattened your brow before tucking both legs to sit Indian-style.
“Michael.” You said softly.
He replied with silence and a deadpan stare.
What is he thinking? It irked you. You so badly wanted to know, but who didn’t? He was the only one you could not read, and it made you realize why so many were intensely intrigued by him. Every doctor that had tried to study him and been bewitched by him, and he was strangely mesmerizing. Michael was captivating, like a train wreck you could not look away from that left you constantly yearning for more answers. He had eerily graceful movements, and a mysterious aura that was beginning to make you bite your lip anytime you felt him near, but especially if he was very near. The heat from his body was abnormally amorous.
Your eyes moved from his face and glanced towards the bed. “Do you want to sit?”
His eyes rolled away from you and looked at the empty space on the mattress. Is he really going to sit? He soon found your face again, and on cue, slowly sunk into the bed to have a seat.
You waited for him, wanted to read his stoic mannerisms, before inching closer. You got very close, close enough you could hear the breathing entering and exiting his nose, and spoke in a low voice.
“Why are you in here, Michael? Why did you come to watch me?”
You noticed his eyes had observed your mouth as you spoke, and you knew he would not answer. The question was a rhetorical one, but damn it, did you wish he would give you something to work with. Then he carefully tilted his head again; it was a gesture that was barely noticeable, but you saw it.
The small tilt to his head went straight, before one of his large hands steadily rose up from the bed. What is he doing? Despite the sudden movement from him, you didn’t flinch, you wanted to see what he was going to do, and you knew remaining still was the best bet. Was he going to wrap a strong, unforgiving hand around your throat? Was he going to pick you up and toss you to the floor effortlessly? Typically a movement from Michael this close was never a good one, but you figured you were willing to take that risk considering you were the one that invited him near. Sometimes Michael was a loose cannon--like a coin toss--and you were never really completely sure which Michael you were going to get. Was it the fast, overly aggressive Michael? Or was it the rather composed and intriguing Michael? You never knew until it was too late. He rarely came with a warning.
His hand paused in the air, inches from your face, as he pondered. Pondered what exactly? You could only guess. Then, the tips of his warm fingers found your face. The touch was callused, but amazingly gentle as his fingers moved across your face and inched over your skin. His palm was now resting against your cheek, and the sheer size of it felt intimidating at the thought of what could happen if he suddenly became angry. But he didn’t. His hand brushed across your skin and his fingers slid behind your ear and into your hair. Your skin started to tingle, making your shiver. The faint butterflies in your stomach fluttered, and slid downward towards your womanhood. You had to admit, the touch was exhilarating.
He froze. He could feel the goosebumps popping up over your skin from under his hand, and it fueled his awareness of how much power he had over you. You both sat that way momentarily; his hand cupped across your face and into your still damp hair, with your eyes locked onto his. Curious, he continued. His fingers went through your hair as he touched it softly, rubbing the side of your neck with his thumb. The waves of your hair were silky, and felt good in between his fingers. But they sure would make it even easier to forcefully grab you and hold you down. He wanted to feel your skin, and wanted to feel the sensation of the goosebumps that grew more intense the more he touched. This was getting strangely sensual, and it caused you to bite your lip and hold your breath. He noticed this and turned his body towards you, and that’s when you realized you had fucked up.
Frustrated with what you were feeling, you grabbed his hand and moved it away. “Ok.” You said with an assertive, raspy voice. You had to stop to think about your words, and swallowed. But did it really matter what you said? Your skin was tingling, and you hated that you loved it. Your hand still held onto his hand, which caused you to notice how hilariously dwarfed it looked near his. Sighing in an attempt to gain control of yourself, you set his hand down on the covers and moved your hands into your lap.
“Ok.” You said again. Then you gestured to the bed where you both sat. “This...I am not sure what this is.”
He only stared at you silently, allowing you to gather your thoughts. You wanted to groan with annoyance, but you contained it. You internally acknowledged that you had invited him to join you, and he had accepted. Now he sat before you, staring with those piercing eyes. His presence was overwhelming and made you feel small. And you loved it.
Michael was inquisitive. This was all new to him as well. Never had he been in a position to even slightly explore a situation like this, and you were very much aware of that. But this was potentially dangerous, and you may be allowing a door to open that was never capable of being shut ever again. Every victim he had claimed, not a single one had ever shown any signs of sexual tampering. Not once had Michael ever sexually assaulted any of his victims, nor was there ever definitive clues that suggested a curiosity for it. He was purely driven by the will to take lives. Now, did that action arouse him? No one was sure, because he never spoke a word. That aside, death was what he wanted to inflict upon people, and he wanted to study it. So whatever was going on here was on a-whole-nother plane of existence. If everyone was lucky, those two things would remain separated: death and sexual adventures.
But he was patient, and he sat perfectly still, breathing steadily. The air he inhaled would be held calmly within his large chest, before exiting smoothly. For some unexplained reason, you glanced at the crotch of his pants to try and catch of glimpse of any activity. You unfortunately peered too quickly, and could not tell the difference between the questionable folds sweatpants get, and something far more erotic. He, of course, noticed this eye movement as well, and waited for you to relax again before trying anything. Your breathing finally evened out and you returned to being poise. There was a lot to process here, and the more you thought everything over, the more you hungered for him to make another move. The concept of it was something you were starting to welcome and tease. You found his eyes again--the contact caused your pupils to dilate.
Then, he moved his hand again, but this time it landed on your exposed thigh. The warmth of his hand grew against your skin, and sat that way temporarily before he resumed the movement. His hand brushed down your thigh and reached the knee, before it moved back up. As his hand climbed upwards, and the tingling on your skin quickened, he suddenly gripped hard. The squeeze he gave was incredibly firm, your skin around his grasp whitened from the pressure. But you didn’t react in a manner of pain, and wanted to see how long he would grip your thigh before he stopped.
Your willingness to let him continue only persuaded him to bring up his free hand to seize your other thigh. Now both hands were clinching against your toned legs. He watched the skin mold beneath his iron grasp, and was intrigued by it. Michael was testing his limits, but truthfully, he knew he was the one that would be setting that bar. Just when you thought he was done, he constricted harder. His strength was indescribable and you knew it was only a fraction of what he was capable of. You could see the muscles in his long arms flexing as he continued to squeeze. Realizing that you were definitely going to be waking up the next morning with two huge, hand-print bruises on your legs, you furrowed your brow at him. He tilted his chin upward to look into your face, and was met with a disapproving glare.
When he did not stop, and continued to look straight into your eyes like a disobedient dog, you seized his wrists and squeezed back. That’s when he weakened his grip, but kept his hands against your thighs. He straightened himself and turned to fully face his body towards yours, his expression was blank but somehow adorably curious. This is all so new to him. Your soft hands remained on his wrists as you mulled over several thoughts.
“You’ve...probably never touched a woman before, have you?” You inquired gently. In all honesty, you were not sure why you ever asked questions you knew you would never receive an answer for. “Like, in a passionate way?”
As he blinked once, his fingers pinched faintly against your skin. After a brief moment of oddly calm silence, you took one of his hands in both of your palms and brought it closer to you. You set his large hand against your right breast and kept your hands over top of his, urging him to explore. Despite having started this interaction a bit hesitant, you grew more eager by the second. This was surely a unique and interesting opportunity, and you would be a liar if you ever said you did not fancy the thought of it several times in the recent past.
Moving your hands away, you pushed your chest closer to him. His hand started to clutch around your supple breast and began to massage it as he ran a thumb against your hardening nipple. Intrigued by this sensation, his free hand moved up and quickly found your other unattended breast. His massaging quickened its pace, and was steadily becoming more rough as he continued. The man definitely was not too familiar with the word “gentle”. Your nipples were perky from under the cloth of the loose tank-top, which fed his interest. Hungry for more, he moved his hands up your shirt to experience your bare skin and firm nipples against his palms. You blinked slowly at him as his touch forced the tingling to return.
His hands suddenly moved away from your breast and rubbed down your ribs and against your stomach. Rising up onto his knees, he lifted you up by the waist and moved you to a more centralized location on the bed. You bit your lip again as his curious hands caressed you tenderly. He forced you onto your back roughly and paused to stare down at you. His eyes were intense, but appeared unsure, as if he genuinely had no idea where to go from here.
“Take it off.” You whispered.
Unwilling to miss a beat, he pulled your tank-top off over your head and immediately stopped at your wrists. He twisted the tank-top tightly and bound your hands together. Gripping the curled up article of clothing, he rose your bound arms above your head and pinned them down. His attention went to your exposed upper-body, and observed the curves of your breasts, waistline, and stomach. Your chest moved up and down in a steady, but quick manner. The breath of life in you was fascinating him. You noticed his jaw muscles clenching right before he forced open your legs and slammed in between them, causing you to gasp. The vehement movement surprised you because it came so suddenly, but felt so hungry. His growing erection further proved that hunger as the length pushed against the sweatpants and into your inner thigh. This fueled you to grind your pelvis against his firm shaft. The heat in his pants intensified against you, causing his nostrils to flare slightly. Feeling you squirm against him was making his member throb harder. This was the moment he had contemplated over while he waited for an extended period of time within your room, and the anticipation for it had been building up.
You really wanted to wrap your arms around his shoulders, just to feel the muscles and pull him against your body, but he was adamant about keeping your limbs up over your head. Michael wanted to be in charge, and he wanted to make it clear that he was going to be the one doing all the touching. He momentarily held this position, as his eyes stared down at your lower half, almost like a starved, wild beast. It wasn’t long before his right hand came up and played with your visible hips and the top of the shorts. The angular curve led his hand down under the seam and towards your crotch. His fingers honed in on the warmth that beckoned for his touch.
The tips of his warm fingers found your clit and brushed against it. You flinched at the feeling, which persuaded him to continue the motion. He rubbed your clit and watched you shake over each pass, which he found amusing. As he hastened the massaging, you moaned behind closed pink lips. He moved his fingers away, as it forced you to exhale to catch your breath. Guided by the soft, moist tissue of your inner labia, his fingers found the entrance to your vagina. He circled his fingers around the tightened opening before inserting his thick, middle finger in eager to feel the inside. You bit your lip as he felt around against your walls, but you moaned suddenly as he forced a second finger inside. He was curious, and the heavy sighs exiting his lungs were starting to pick up.
The walls of your vagina pressed against his fingers, and replied with a warm embrace. He exhaled intently through his nostrils, and began pumping his fingers in and out. You squirmed against him, unable to move much from the way he had you pinned; all you could do was move your hips in unison with his motions. Unable to contain himself, he removed his fingers. You groaned with disappointment as the emptiness returned to your loins, but then he released your arms and seized your shorts, which he lustfully pulled from your hips. The shorts soon joined the tank-top on the ground.
Wanting to relish in your freed hands, you reached around him and clung onto his broad back. He closed the distance between you both and pressed against you again. His erection had fully developed and felt amazingly firm as he grinded into you. Frustrated with how uncomfortable being contained was, he pulled back to release the tightness in his pants. You watched him with horny eyes, still keeping your arms wrapped tightly around him.
Suddenly, he moved quickly, seizing your arms and slammed them up over your head again with one strong hand. Then, you felt the head of his hard-on rubbing against the outside of your wet pussy. He toyed with this area before finally inserting himself inside. It hurt at first, because he entered with such force it moved you up the bed. You swallowed hard and pinched your eyes shut, but you eventually moaned loudly as your body accepted him. Your eyes fluttered and rolled back. His erection pulled back, and reentered, this time going deeper. With each thrust, it moved your further up the bed. He repeated this until he hit your cervix and forced another sensual whine from your throat. He filled you up good. The girth pressed into your walls, as you flexed against his shaft. The wet, warm tissue had to adjust to him, and clung tightly against his hard-on like an eager hug. He moved his hips slowly, wanting to feel every steady penetration. You panted in correlation with his leisurely thrusts. He was now fully hovering over you, his body overwhelming yours.
Then, he started pumping faster, and eventually it got harder. Much harder. You gasped and moaned through parted lips, unable to contain the growing pleasure of both pain and ecstasy. His breathing picked up, as he began making noises you had not ever heard from him while his hips smacked against you. Everything felt so good.
Eventually, he suddenly stopped and pulled out of you. You omitted a saddened sound and wanted him to return, but was instead met with strong hands that grabbed at your waist and forcefully flipped your over onto your stomach. His palms moved away from your waist and slammed down against your ass. He squeezed and clenched at the muscles of your buttocks, before peeling your legs open again and mounting you from behind. As he slid back inside, another loud, sexual gasp exited from the back of your throat. The pumping continued as he pounded against your rear, causing your flesh to redden from under the friction. You planted your face into the nearby pillow and released an uncontained groan. Not liking that you were muffling your sounds of pleasure, he grabbed you by the back of the neck and lifted you backwards.
Your neck craned as his strong hand gripped at you. He had no problem holding you in place, with one hand holding one of your ass cheeks open, and the other squeezing into your neck. It was a mixture of contradictory sensations, but it hurt so good. He pumped his hips and breathed hot breath heavily against the neck he held firmly; you could almost taste him. you swallowed hard and continued panting with each vigorous thrust. His girth caressed all the right places, making you wetter and closer to climax. You were impressed with his stamina, even as he drove into you with hungry movements.
Your panting and moaning began to crescendo; he had been hitting the right spot. You came against his member and screamed out a cry of delight. Tears had been building up by the edges of your eyes, and rolled down your cheeks. You grit your teeth as he continued to pound through your orgasm, which sent your whirling into a stage of euphoria. You went limp and trembled as he reached his peak. He pressed against you one last time, releasing your neck to hold onto your hips with both hands, and ejaculated inside of you as his cock twitched against you. A deep, throaty sigh--almost a growl--exited his parted lips. A mixture of bodily fluids ran down the end of his shaft, and a few of his dark curls stuck to the sweat that had built up on his forehead.
Exhaling another breath to further calm the rapidly beating heart within his chest, he rested against you, his weight pushing you down. You both sat that way momentarily, as you attempted to catch your breath. Michael seemed to already be back to a normal state; his breathing had steadied as if he had not just partaken in rigorous sex. He slid off of you and rose up from the bed, leaving you laying satisfied and flat on your stomach. You felt his eyes observing you, perhaps staring at his work. He analyzed the red markings he had left all over your buttocks and neck. It was like your entire backside had been ravaged. Good. His mind was racing, and he knew he would be back, but next time he won’t be as cautionary.
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