This isn't serious. I just wanted to counter attack fics where Michael is some gentle loving dreamy man. Hes not, Hes a serial killer. If you love a serial killer, than your Mary-Sue should probably be insane. If you don't agree with this, then all the power to you. I just prefer to try and use a bit of logic.
Enjoy!
Christine dropped her blood soaked axe on the floor beside her and took a drag of the lit cigarette already in her lips. She stared down at the corpse of the middle aged man and smiled.
Her face and clothes were covered in blood splatters, but it was nothing compared to the mutilated body. Blood seeped all around him. His eyes were staring blankly back at her, not truly seeing.
"This one's done," she called out as she looked over to the masked figure. He had just finished strangling the man's wife, and dropped her limp body carelessly.
Michael Myers walked to Christine's side and looked down at the man, tilting his head to the side.
Christine smirked and threw her cigarette aside, then wrapped her arms around Michael's waist, and a leg around his, pressing their bodies together.
Michael glared and attempted to move away, but Christine wouldn't let go. She wasn't afraid of him; he knew this, so threatening her wouldn't help. He'd attempted to kill her many times already, when they had first met, but soon gave up, too confused by her uncommon want to be near him. Usually people screamed and ran away.
Christine placed her lips on the mask's, and started to unzip his bloodied worker's jumpsuit, as she let her dark hair down from its messy ponytail. Michael continued to glare, but didn't push her away.
It was the same after every person they killed. Christine would entangle herself with him, and always ended up getting what she wanted, and by the end of it all, he was almost glad she wasn't dead.
She loved the thrill of fucking beside a newly butchered human, and she never gave up any chance to do so.
After finally getting his jumpsuit off, she started to undress herself. She peeled her tiny shirt off, which was barely covering anything anyways, then her shorts.
Michael had never really cared for the female figure, carelessly slaughtering naked women, but Christine was the only one to actually turn him on, seeing as she wasn't screaming in terror.
She lay beside the bloody, dead man and beckoned with her finger, smiling. He obeyed and lowered himself on top of her, thrusting into her quickly. Christine moaned loudly and kicked her foot out, knocking over a small table and breaking a lamp. Her nails dug into his scarred back, and he thrust harder and faster as she commanded him to.
Christine arched her back and yelled louder, not caring if anyone heard. She loved the thrill.
Suddenly, she rolled him over and moved her body with skill. Michael's breathing became harder as she moved quickly, yet fiercely. Her breasts bounced with her, and she cried out again, yelling his name. She placed her hands on his bare chest and clawed at him, leaving bloody scratches. She smiled as she continued to thrust on him, and licked the blood from her nails.
His name was screamed again as they both finally came. Christine giggled maniacally and got up, then started searching the room for her clothing.
Michael looked at her and tilted his head.
"C'mon, Mikey, the night is young. We have more people to slaughter, more places to fuck."
She pulled her shorts and shirt on, then slung her axe on her shoulder and left, lighting another cigarette as she stepped out.