#early post

He was a confused puppy as if he hadn’t heard those words uttered before. His head cocked to one side and then slowly to the other. He did not raise his knife to stab her, in fact, the voice in his head didn’t seem interested in killing her. 

Michael’s bloodied hand reached out and gripped her waist. His hand trailed up her body as if he was confused by the shape of it. Something in his mind snapped when his calloused fingers brushed the side of her breast. Something Michael hadn’t felt before, deep in his stomach, in his chest, and loins. 

“Michael, you can’t touch me there. I--” 

She grabbed his wrist and pushed him off of her torso. 

“I know I promised Michael, but I’m engaged,” 

(Y/n) swallowed, glancing at the knife in his hand. 

“Listen, why… don’t you clean up. I’ll get dressed and we can talk,” 

She expected him to stay in place when she moved forward but he sidestepped and gracefully slipped into the spot she was in. 

--

(Y/n)’s hands tremmored as she pulled night clothes from her suitcase. Adrenaline pumped in her body and she couldn’t decide if she should turn Michael in. Her soft nightgown cascaded over her body, and she could hear the water in the bathroom running. 

She was allowing him to wash off the evidence in her bathroom. (Y/n) fixed her hair for bed as it was needed before her heart seemed to race when she realized the water was no longer running. 

Her feet padded against the pea green carpet she both loathed and loved, out into the hallway. The bathroom door opened and steam fell out, clearly, he enjoyed the water unbelievably hot. His hulking figure stepped out softly, (Y/n)’s face burned at the sight. Only a white t-shirt and cheaply made tightly whiteys were on his body. A splotch of blood stained the collar and she had to admit he looked good from what she could see. He was raw muscle from head to foot. No matter her weight or size he seemed to engulf her like a solar eclipse. It was no doubt that he could pick her up and move her as if she weighed nothing. 

His hand clung to his knife, as a child would a favorite stuffed animal but in the other hand was something rectangular. 

“You remember that day?” she asked. 

He walked towards her, shame long forgotten in his years in a mental hospital. Or perhaps Michael wasn’t born with the feeling of shame. He held the picture frame up to her and she smiled a natural cheeky smile that made Michael’s chest hurt again. 

“We played knights! Remember?” she giggled. 

Gently she took the picture from his hands. “It’s the only picture of us I have anymore,” 

The frown on her face was something that made Michael feel the need to kill all over again. But not her. Never her. The shape wouldn’t touch her, not like that… at least not permanently. The same wetness he wiped from his own eyes days ago seemed to drip down her cheek. 

His thumb curiously rubbed the tear from her face and she flinched before leaning into his warm tanned hand. 

“I’m sorry Michael,” she said softly. “I just miss those days you know. Those are my best memories. But my fiance doesn’t want me to live in the past,” 

Michael was glad he killed him the moment he saw him. Michael didn’t know how to comfort her, but at least the source of her sad look was done. 

The Shape lifted the latex mask just enough to uncover his lips. His hand on her cheek lifted her chin and he bent down and pressed a chaste kiss to her lips. It was small, childish, sweet, and similar to the one she gave him when they were children. The first and only kiss he ever had from anyone that wasn’t his mother. 

(Y/n) didn’t stop him. She leaned into him and enjoyed the warm chapped lips against her own. Then his tongue invaded her mouth like an aggressive intruder. Poking and prodding around her. Tasting every inch of her surprised mouth. Michael’s rough hand slid from her cheek to her throat, squeezing the pad of his thumb into the side of her neck. Firm but not choking. 

He pulls away and tugs the mask over his face quickly. Honey strands of saliva connected them for a moment before dribbling down her lip. Her face felt like it was on fire, and she knew it was awful but she wanted him to do it again to her. 

But she knew Michael. Perhaps she was the only one who knew Michael. He would do things only if he wanted to do them. Though, those things he was willing to do were often if she was there or if she was asking him to do them. 

“Michael, are you hungry? I didn’t have dinner,” she asked gently. 

-- 

It was hardly a dinner at all. It was a bowl of sugary cereal and milk. She had to dig around for the bowls and spoons and Michael watched her from the corner of the kitchen. 

“Do you still like Sugar Pops?” 

The only response she got was him sitting down at the small table. (Y/n) poured their bowls and sat down. 

It was fascinating watching Michael eat, he maneuvered around the mask as if he had it on his entire life. Not even a peak of his face could be seen as he downed bowl after bowl of cereal. (Y/n) only consumed the one, downing the milk and rubbing the milk mustache off with the back of her hand. She was enchanted with Michael. 

(Y/n) was always enchanted by Michael. 

The front door slammed open and shut again. (Y/n)’s back stiffened. 

“That must be Richie,” she stands up. “Stay here, Michael,” 

Michael’s hand went to his trusty blade that was set on the table. He watched her walk past him and leave beyond the kitchen. 

“Oh my god, Richie,” She said. 

He stood covered in blood and limping. 

“We need to get out of here, there’s a maniac out there,” he coughed. 

Crimson splattered from his lips and into the carpet.

“He tried to ki--” he froze. 

(Y/n) knew if she turned around at that moment she would see Michael’s looming figure. So she did. 

“Michael, please,” she said softly. “Go back into the kitchen,” 

“Michael?” Richie spat. “THIS IS THAT LITTLE BLONDE BASTARD I’VE BEEN COMPETING WITH ALL THESE YEARS,” 

(Y/n) flinches at the volume, and Michael takes several steps forward. Richie grabs (Y/n)’s arm and throws her to the ground. 

“Take the bitch, you bastard. Kill her, fuck her, I don’t fucking care. Just let me go,” he pleaded. 

Michael is frozen. Stuck between picking her up and stabbing him until he was sure he couldn’t get up again. But then she stands up, and the choice is made for him. A shadow in the night, he rushes Richie and stabs him in the chest. 

(Y/n) screams. 

“Michael!,” She calls, but she can’t seem to care. 

At least not about Richie. Her fiance’s bloodied hand reaches up and tries to gouge Michael in the eye. He fumbles, unable to find the socket through the latex of the mask. With a sickening crunch of skull and brain matter, Michael stabs Richie in the temple. Blood flies across the burnt orange carpet staining the shag forever. 

(Y/n) exhaled the breath she was holding. Relief seemed to flood her entire body, and endorphins caused her skin to produce goosebumps. The stress of an unhappy relationship was gone from her entire being and Michael was the one to do it. 

“What do we do now?” she asked softly. 

Her shaking hands returned. Michael as always, said nothing. He lumbered up the stairs and came back down them in his blue coveralls. He grabs Richie’s corpse by the ankles and begins to haul him off, somewhere she did not know. 

-- 

Hours passed and the night grew darker. (Y/n) worried he was caught. That somehow they’d track her down and they’d never see each other again. The stress bit at her skin with a swarm of mosquitoes that seemed to eat at her unless she was doing something else. 

The blood was cleaned from the carpet. Boxes moved and unpacked. Laundry was started in the basement and she put out some clean clothes, which were of course much too short for Michael, on the bed for him to sleep in. 

She suddenly felt like she was playing house with little Michael Myers all over again. Her final stop was the two empty cereal bowls that sat in the sink. She had no clue of the figure behind her until his large hands wrapped around her neck. (Y/n) gasped before she felt the large body behind her, soft latex pressed against her cheek. 

-SPICE STARTS HERE-

In the center of her spine, she could really feel him. Thick and hard, did murder excite him? His hips pushed forward pushing her into the sink, rubbing himself against her and against the fabric of his clothing. 

Her heart dropped into her warm loins and her eyes fluttered shut. The drag of rough cotton and clotted blood made her body tingle in such a strange way. (Y/n) wanted to turn, to see him but his grip on her neck wouldn’t allow her to move. 

“Michael,” she choked. “Bed. Please,” 

Michael pulled away, and for a beat, she thought she had upset him. Made him stop what he wanted, but then he lifted her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. His hand gripped the space where her buttcheek and thigh met, he couldn’t help but squeeze it as he did so. 

The Shape lumbered up the creaking stairs and into the master bedroom. He threw her down and she bounced slightly against the spring, the clothes on the bed flew off and Michael stared her down. The silky nightgown had dragged up her hips and revealed sweet cotton panties with growing dampness staining the front. 

He wanted to see more of her. Michael climbed into the bed on his knees, hovering above her body. Rough fingers dragged up her arms, covering her in fresh blood. His thumbs hooked over the thin straps of the dress and pulls them down until (Y/n)’s breasts were uncovered. 

Hot breath escaped the bottom of the mask, brushing against her skin. He stared, unmoving at the breasts that seemed to suit his wife so perfectly. 

Michael didn’t care for laws or technicalities. As far as he was concerned they had been married since the day she asked him. It only took time for him to finally be with her. 

His large hand finally moved from the place against her arm and down to her waist like he had before. Up her curves and squished anything he could before grabbing her breast in his hand. He ran a thumb over the hardened nipple and a soft hum of approval escaped (Y/n)’s soft lips. 

So he did it again. 

She hummed again. 

He pinched the nipple and she moaned. 

That moan sent a shiver down his spine and the fabric of his clothing felt suffocating. It was like she could read his mind, her fingers pulled the heavy zipper down his body. Warm hands traced his strained t-shirt and down into his underwear. Soft fingertips followed his long shaft to the tip and the way her eyes widened in fear caused a low grunt to leave Michael’s lips. 

His hips slammed up into her hand. The fingers wrapped around him and he grunted again and another animalistic hump into her palm followed. (Y/n) smiled at him, and her free hand ran up his chest and to his mask.

Michael grabs her wrist just before she could tug off the mask. 

“It’s okay Michael, you can leave it on,” she assured him. 

Her hand on his throbbing cock moved down his length, his pubic hair was soft against her fist. Up and down she pumped his shaft and Michael could hardly control his hips. But his own hands were now exploring her body as she touched him. 

He enjoyed the softness of her breasts but he soon found his way into the front of her panties. Blood leaving trails down her body and ruining her underwear. She hardly had time to care. Michael found her clit and touched roughly. A long moan escaped her pretty lips and he moved his fingers faster around the nub. Her hips lifted off the bed and she could feel an orgasm building quickly. 

“Wait,” she tried to slow him down and stop him but her body beat her to the punch. 

She came while being barely touched by him. Her scream was loud and he liked it. It was better than the screams of his victims. Much better than any music or cries for help. He didn’t even stop his fingers over her clit. Her hands were removed from his cock and now wrapped around his wrist. 

But he didn’t slow down the assault on her clit. He pushed her through a second orgasm and tears prickled at the corners of her eyes. 

“Slow down Michael,” she begged. 

He grunted at the tone. He licked his lips behind the mask, his fingers finally leaving the sensitive nub. Michael inserted two fingers, and she jumped in surprise at the intrusion. Thick and rough in the best ways. The grip on his wrist loosened and he began pumping in and out of her, his head cocking to the side as he watched her face contort. 

The digits were removed just before she could reach another euphoria. He looked at the glistening on his fingers before slipping them under his mask for a taste. Michael groaned at the flavor and knew he would become addicted to her. 

His hands hooked around her panties and he ripped them into two. Then his jumpsuit was around his hips and his cock was released from its irritating prison. (Y/n) leaned forward from her spot on the pillows. He was huge, of course, he was huge. This and long, curving just right. Pre-cum oozed from the tip and she licked her lips. 

“Michael, you have to be careful, you’re big--” 

Words caught in her throat as he flipped her onto her stomach. He squeezed and smacked the meat of her ass before pressing against her body. He was prodding at her wet entrance. 

“It’s too big, Michael,” 

He huffed and roughly pushed into her, a yelp of pain and surprise at the stretch caused him to twitch inside of her. Michael’s hands traced up her body again, stopping to grab her tits and then around the front to her throat for leverage. His dull nails bit into her skin but it was nothing compared to the pleasurable burn of Michael as he began to rock his hips. 

It didn’t take long for him to find a wild, yet consistent rhythm. He growled and grunted like a caged animal and the burn turned into pure pleasure as his cock brushed against the pressure point deep inside her walls. 

“Oh, fuck Michael,” she whined. 

He rammed into her hard at that and she moaned. His fingers tightened around her throat, (Y/n)’s vision began to get hazy as he pulled her against his pistoning hips. Just as she was about to fall into the darkness he let go and he felt her walls flutter around him. 

“Holy fuck,” She whined as she came around his cock. 

The tight sensation was too much. Michael couldn’t hold off anymore. He came. Hard and thick ropes of cum from years of isolation and lack of sexual interest. He kept cumming, more than anyone she had ever been with. 

His body slumped heavily against her back as it finally stopped. He grunted into her ear from beyond the mask and his huffing hot breath brushed against her shoulder. (Y/n) had no choice, she lay with his weight on top of her. His cock pulled from her body finally, rolling to the side flat on his back. 

(Y/n) turned over and sighed. 

“I love you, Michael. I know you probably won't or can’t understand that, but I always have and I always will,” she said softly. 

(Y/n) leaned up and kissed the soft cheek of his mask.

As she turns to pull from Michael, he grabs her arm again. He lifts the mask with his free hand just enough for his lips to show. The soft pink lips crashed into hers with all tongue and teeth invading her mouth again. She welcomed it and he pulled away again. Instead of pulling his mask down, however, he began kissing down her body. Licking and tasting her. 

“Again already?”