#hot lmao

[sydsliftingface]

current fantasy is riding your face while your hands are tied. once i’m nice and overstimulated I might just untie you and let you fuck me with your strap the way you know I like it…

OH???????????

[childish-ish]

scooby-doo theme song!

pairing: michael myers x gender-neutral! reader

"Like, zoinks, Scoob! I think we ran out of popcorn!" You screech, throwing open the fridge door and almost slipping as the kid you were babysitting excitedly followed after you, hopping onto the island.

"Ruh-roh raggy! Looks like we're dying!" He laughed, responding in the Scooby-Dooby-doo voice. You laugh, nodding.

"Okay.. look kid.. we really need some actual food in our bellies. How about.. some fucking... SPAGHETTI?!" You lightly closed the refrigerator door and make jazz hands, had turned around.

Chad - the first time hearing the kids' name you laughed for a good 5 minutes, you were basically best friends now. Anyways, Chad screamed 'yes' over and over again.

"But wait!! I don't want tomato sauce."

You nod, "I can respect that. Maybe.. just super virgin-y oil-y spaghetti like olive garden makes it."

"I've never been to Olive Garden."

"I'm taking you and your family for olive garden on on somebody's birthday." It was truly heart-wrenching, but you knew not everybody could afford that shit. Shit was expensive. Also - their lasagna was - i dont think i can say anything. I simply, will not. Jk their lasagna is actually kinda not good.

"Aight, we boutta feast." Scooby-Doo played in the background - one of the movies. The animated ones, where Shaggy and Daphne hook up.

"Dun-na-na-naaaa." You sung, pouring the noodles in the boiling water. Two plates on the counter waiting for their demise, along with forks. Two glass bottle cokes were in the freezer - since they were warm. Hella warm.

After cooking up the pasta, you served Chad and yourself a couple of bowls, then fucked around playing hide and seek while the Scooby-doo series played. One of the movies, this time. With John Cena! You think it was called Wrestle Mania or something of the sort - you had no clue. Your thoughts were running by 20 mph.

It was Chad's turn to count - you hide in his parent's closet and wait excitedly vibrating in your spot. You bounce your leg slightly.

You could hear multiple other voices coming from down stairs. You shyly poke out your foot, your leg following your foot and you, following your leg.

You step quietly, on your tip-toes and peek around the corner. His parents were home!

You eagerly slip down the stairs, not actually slipping but stepping quickly.

"Hey Mister and Missus!" You greet cheerfully.

"Y/n!" Chad saluted happily, stepping towards you and embracing your torso.

"Hey Kiddo!" Mister greets, "I'll pay you now?" Mister begun edging his hand towards his wallet. When he sees you made no move to stop him, he nods with a knowing grin and shoves his hand in his pocket.

He offers you a few twenties and you take them, shoving them in your pocket.

"See you this weekend, Nerd." You snicker, ruffling the boys' full head of hair.

"Bye-bye!" He waved, blowing you a kiss. You pretend to catch it and slap it on your forehead before waving to his parents who smiled fondly as they watched you leave their driveway.

Home, sweet home. You thought, tossing your shoes by the door and immediately throwing yourself onto the couch before deciding you would be sort've productive and clean up some.

You sigh, trudging up and into your room.

You were snug under your thick blankets. You never knew when you fell asleep. You just loved sleeping though.

"Simp this, simp that. I simply just want to be in her arms."

"Who's arms?" You perk up from behind the couch. Your friend - not actually your friend, but your friend in your dream you suppose, Dylan. Whom you call Dill. Because Dill Pickle. Also, because Pickle Rick. Anyways - Dill was sitting on the couch, a cigarette in hand as he talked to seemingly no one. Bleached hair all fucked up - soft mocha skin with blemishes and acne scars. You lean over and lick his cheek.

"Haha. I'm Pickle Rick!" You slapped yourself for saying such fucking idiotic things. "Who?? Who's arms do you want to be in??"

"Yours." Dill admitted, before pulling you over the couch with immense strength and licking your nose with his forked tongue.

"Haha, gross."

You held up a hand, putting it to his right eye and stretching the eyelids away from eachother. You lean down and lick his pure white sclera. He moaned and shivered.

What the f - what the fuck what the fuck. What. The. Fuck. You thought, 'screaming' in your head, as he slapped away your hand and pulled you down.

Ah, shit. Is he gonna lick my eyeball?? You thought, watching him with cautious eyes.

Dill suddenly turned serious - his face suddenly turned paper-sheet white. You pull back, where was this going? You thought, unimpressed, as you watch his sclera turn bright red.

Dill morphed into an actual paper. With the lines n' shit - the paper still had lips. Thankfully, no eyes.

Then you made out. Just kidding! No, i lied, you did make out. But suddenly, the paper lurched forward and cut you with their paper arm.

"Yowch!"

You awake. Breathing out a sigh and turning office your left side. You close your eyes once more before peaking them open. You can see the tree branches outside bob up and down with the wind.

You shiver, before pulling the covers over your shoulders. You take a glance around your room before your eyes landed on the corner where you kept all your laundry.

strangely enough, that pile of clothes did resemble a human.

Did it just fucking move?

What was that in it's hand?

Wanna fucking go?! Out? On a date?

What the fuck, shut up me.

Wait. Wait wait wait. Didn't I just do my fucking laundry?? Oh god. Oh fuck. Oh my fucking god. Wgatt thejcmcwnq. Shut the fuck up stop speaking in tongues. What the fuck thoughts? There's a fucking stranger in our room.

You can feel the eyes of someone trace your facial features. No you can't, that would be fucking awesome though. Anyways. One step - was all it took for you to fucking bolt out of bed in your pink sheep jammies and out the door, tripping on clothes on your way out.

Or - you actually didn't do your laundry. You pause at the bathroom door. You carefully step towards the light switches for the hallway. Were you actually just imagining everything? You did just wake up..

You slowly, but surely, step towards your room.

Stanfing in the entrance of your room like that meme 'me walking to my parents room at 2am to tell them i threw up'. You shakily lift a hand, to turn on your light. You were in the room to do so, so..

There was nothing in the corner. Nothing. Zip. Nada. Zlich. What the fuck is this bullshit? You could've sworn that something was in the corner - what, what the fuck.

You snap your neck turning around. You made eye contact with nothingness. Just kidding! You made eye contact with the holes of some white mask that mocked one of a human face - shaggy, fucking ugly brown hair that needed a fucking brush.

You turn your body around at immense speed and push the stranger away, bolting down the hallway. You couldn't hear the thunderous steps behind you, not that you could ever hear them. You couldn't forget the fucking glint of that kitchen knife. Was that yours? Did he fucking steal that from you?

Shut up! You shout at yourself in your head, running down the stairs. You take a peak behind you - just to see him right fucking behind you.

You chuckle, before running away - the thought of dipping out the door never crosses your mind.

"ALEXA! Play the Scooby-doo theme song!" You shout out, running through the rooms that hand connected - like a game of tag or something. Murder tag. Kill tag? Murder Tag fits.

This is fun! You thought, grinning widely as tears prick your eyes. You will have fun. You are. Honestly? Fuck it, death music.

"Scooby-Dooby-Doo, where are you? We got some work to do now !"

You skrrt around the corner - entering the kitchen. You pull a clever from one of the utensil drawers and wait anxiously -

"Scooby-Dooby-Doo, where are you? We need some help from you now !"

"Alexa. Pause." You whisper to the robot.

You see the blue-coveralls, white mask - brown hair headass in the entrance of the kitchen.

"He - " Your voice cracks horribly and you resist the urge to laugh.

"Hey man.. don't kill me."

You see him tilt his head slightly.

"Were you going to kill me?"

The man shook his head side to side.

"Why the fuck are you in my house then."

He took one step towards you and you drop the weapon - it clattered loudly on the floor. He looked downwards, then back to your own eyes.

"Well. Anyways. If you aren't going to kill me. Wanna watch Scooby-Doo, homie?"

The coverall wearing man shook his head no.

"Want some spaghetti for your travels?"

He nodded yes.

"Dope."

So, basically, from what you gathered, the man couldn't talk. He was very threatning and did kill people. He was the 'Boogeyman of Haddonfield.' How dope is that? A real life murderer in your home. That's kinda sexy, not gonna lie. You stir the pot of noodles, before picking up the wooden spoon you stirred it with, you pull off a noodle on the spoon and fling it on the wall.

"Okidokie! It's ready." You didn't have literally any tomatoes or ground beef - so you made noodles like you did with Chad. MMmmf.f...bbutterrryy nododle.ss..,.,.,.

You drain the water, put the noodles in two separate bowls, leftover pasta still in the pot. You pull out the utensil drawer, the dried utensils from the drain in the drawer so you couldn't just pluck one from the drain - you place two forks in each bowl respectfully and take the two bowls to the table.

You sit across the male, immediately digging into the pasta.

"So," You swallow, "Were you actually not gonna kill me?"

He shook his head before he nodded, before fiddling with his fork, twirling spaghetti around said fork.

"Cool."

That means youre in a house with a man that wanted to kill you but didnt. How do you feel?

"Special.." You answer aloud and aloof.

You see the man perk his head up. "Sorry, sorry." You mumble out, waving your hand before you begun twirling your spaghetti into your fork and shoving it past your lips before striking the noodles once more as you chew.

"Goodbye, good sir." You waved, mouth full of pasta noodles as the male stood from his seat and edged towards the back door.

He only nods, and you only watch as he leaves.

You truly, could not believe how fucking crazy you were to play the theme song and not call the cops for this fucking psychopath. He was so out of character too.

Anyway. Another problem for tomorrow.

[fxllingout]

PLEASE i didn't even intend that to be a tag, but looking through it, it's like 90% dream and half of it is art of him in That Outfit akdhksjd

LMAOOOO sometimes I reblog stuff and I'm like 'yes eth will like this one' and then i see you reblog it with that tag and i know I've done my job well

[goddamnthirstycrow]

"do i want her or do i just want to be her" but instead its "do i want my boobs to have nipple piercings or do i want her boobs to have nipple piercings?"

[octoling-wearing-gauges]

nO YOUR PFP IS GIVING ME NOSE BLEEDs

whoops ;^)

[messedupbandedits]

Paint me like one of your emo girls