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infernwetrust · 4 years ago

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The Devil In Me [Michael Langdon x Fem Reader] Part 2

PART 1 HERE

MASTER LIST

Plot: What if we took the Antichrist, Michael Langdon and turned him into founder and leader of one of the largest cartel’s in California? And what’s even better, is that you’re by his side through it all.

Summary: You awake to family man, Michael and preparations for a trip to Miami take place. Duncan comes to a rude awakening.

Warnings: domestic violence, drug use, swearing, threats, fluff, angst, mentions of loss of life, child loss, emotional, this is like kind of dark y’all.

WC: 4.0k

A/N: This was not suppose to take this long to write. It was a little emotionally taxing for me, so I had to space out when I was writing it because I would literally get stuck in a dark place. Thank you for reading! -Juno

The smell of pancakes and warm syrup hit your nose first upon fluttering your eyes open. Usually you were greeted by the warmth of your husband who either lay near by or cuddled you. But it appears that he isn't in bed this morning. He did, however, leave the curtains open just a little bit to let some sunlight in. Just enough for you to be able to see around the room. Grabbing your phone off the side table you checked the time which read, 8:30AM. You groaned, knowing that today was packed to the brim with various activities. Travel being one of them.

When Michael offered to take you and the kids with him, Duncan, and Jim to Miami, how could you say no? It was a business trip, of course, but nonetheless you were still grateful to be going. Duncan had just sealed the deal on a brand new warehouse, perfect for operations and expanding their network. Located in the heat of downtown Miami, they blended in well. And what was their front for it all? A nightclub.

You slowly pulled the covers off of you, yawning as you got up, stretching your arms over your head. You smiled as you stared down at the floor, remembering the events that took place after you and Michael's shower the previous night. It wasn't long before he had you out of your night gown for round 2. You picked it and your pair of panties off the floor, throwing them back on and making your way to the bathroom. Hickeys and bite marks covered your chest as you turned the sink on, splashing water on your face before washing it all together. You quickly brushed over your teeth, knocking your morning breath out. You knew you would return shortly after you ate to brush them again anyways.

Throwing on your favorite pair of house shoes you made your way down the stairs and immediately into the kitchen. The sight in front of you made your heart swell. On the table were 3 plates, stacked with pancakes, bacon, and eggs. In a nearby bowl, fruit. Two glasses, for you and him of course, filled to the brim with orange juice. But that's not what made your heart swell. Michael, for the most part, always waited for you before he started eating.

Michael sat at the dining table, hair messy, shirtless, and in gray sweat pants. Sat up in his lap was Junior, the back of his head firmly planted into Michael's chest. In Junior's hand was a piece of pancake that he simply just shoved into his mouth, his eyes glued to whatever Michael had put on his phone for the boy to watch. With him distracted, Michael had his attention on little Malcolm who sat in his high chair, which he had moved closer to him. You watched as Michael fed him his favorite flavored yogurt to which the boy smiled in returned after his father took the spoon from his mouth.

You cursed yourself for forgetting your phone in the bedroom and you wish you could capture this exact moment forever. But there would always be opportunity for more. Michael is nothing shy of a family man and you know he always enjoys his boys being near by, even on the days where he's just fed up with it all. Feeling a pair of eyes lingering on him, Michael turned his head to look, a smile on his face when he made eye contact with you.

"Hi mama." Malcolm said, also noticing your presence, briefly taking his attention away from Michael's phone to look at you, his face a mess.

"Hi mommy's messy baby." you replied, walking over to give him a kiss on his forehead, followed by 3 quick kisses against Michael's lips. "And hello to you too."

"Why, hello." Michael responded. "So nice of you to join us."

"And miss out on your pancakes? No way, sir."

Michael didn't cook often, but when he did, he made it count. You wondered where he picked up his cooking skill. And then you saw him one day, in the kitchen, following the personal chef around. That day he had even wore his own little apron.

"Hey." Michael said to his personal chef, who stuck by his side since the beginning, Dawn. He stood at the kitchen counter with her, tall and proud. His blonde hair covered by a chef hat.

"Yes, Michael dear." she responded, pausing what she was doing to look at him.

"Don't tell Y/N, okay?" he asked her. "I want it to come as surprise when I do actually cook."

"Of course. I'll even teach you how to make some of her favorites."

He smiled at her again before the two resumed what they doing. You could snap a picture right now, you thought to yourself. How his brothers would LOVE to see Michael's EXTRA soft side, but you stood put, the widest smile and deepest blush on your face as you watched your then, fiancé, learn how to cook for you.

You walked over to Malcolm's high chair, grabbing his also messy face and lightly squeezing his cheeks together before sticking your tongue out at him. He giggled, attempting to wrap his tiny hand around your wrist.

"Don't worry, mommy didn't forget about you." you said. "Finally letting your dad feed you, huh?"

"I know, huh?" Michael huffed out. "No fighting before hand either."

"He's sweet when wants to be." You joined Michael at the table, sliding your hand across his back as you did so.

"Daddy, I'm done." Junior said, looking up at his father.

"That's my boy." Michael praised, kissing the top of his head. Junior almost never finished his food, so when he did, it was worthy of praise. "Go play the living room for a bit,'I'll grab you to come brush your teeth in a minute, okay?"

"Kay." the boy replied as he hopped off Michael's lap and ran into the living room, excited to get his hands on one of his toys.

"No mess either please, baby!" you yelled, hoping he would hear you. Michael smirked because as you said that, the both of you heard the toy box dump out. "Shit..."

"Bold of you to assume that he wasn't going to do that." Michael mocked.

"You hush and tell me what the plans are for today." You earned a small chuckle from him as he laid his hand over your knee, quickly glancing at Malcolm who had now took the matters of eating yogurt into his own hands, literally. All over his hair, face, and hands, yogurt. Michael pouted at the sight even though it was cute.

"Daddy was so hoping that he wouldn't have to give you a bath before we left." Michael sighed. "But silly daddy for looking away for 2 minutes, huh?" Michael reached his hand out to tickle the yogurt covered child.

"You still have so much to learn." you said. "Rule 1. Never take your eyes off the baby in the high chair."

"That is so not rule 1, Y/N."

You and Michael talked for what seemed like hours while the two of you ate breakfast. He started by letting you know why everyone was going to Miami. It was so fascinating to you how he was always so well informed. He told you everything, down to the exact number in income this would generate both from the nightclub sales and the narcotics sale. Jim wanted to set up a marijuana plant down there, but Duncan had convinced him that the best place to grow for right now was right here in California. He even showed you the floor layout of the both the nightclub and the underground warehouse on his phone.

Along the minor details were where everyone was going to be staying, how everyone was going to be transported around Miami, fun things to do when there was free time, and some really popular places to dine.

"Ready to give Malcolm a bath?" Michael questioned as he took the last drink of his orange juice.

"Um." You began. "That was your job."

"Just seeing if you were paying attention." he grinned, getting up to clear the table. You watched as he throughly rinsed the dishes off before putting them in the dishwasher. Most of the time you or one of the housekeepers kept up with the home duties, but Michael knew when he needed to step in and he did, every so often, just like today. Despite his extremely busy schedule, he gave you your break because you always took care of him through and through.

"Thinking about cutting my hair when we get to Miami, yeah?"

"Michael, who do you know in Miami that can cut your hair?"

"I don't know, but Duncan does."

"How short are you thinking about cutting it?"

"Something along the lines of Duncan, but just a little longer."

"Ooo you know that's-,"

"One of your favorites. Yes my love, I do know." He turned around to face you, leaning against the counter, giving you a wink.

"And the blonde just tops it off. God, I love you."

"I love you too." Michael laughed. "Fortunate to be the only blonde out of triplets, huh?"

///

The both of them laid there, her head against his chest, sweat making their bodies glisten as the moon light shined through the window of her bedroom. This isn't the first time Duncan has hooked up with Michael's head bartender, Elizabeth. In fact, it quickly became a regular thing, the two of them finding peace within one another through a common pain. Loss. If he was stupid enough, he would actually think he was falling in love with her. Was he? He knew he really liked her and that he enjoyed her company, whether it be platonic or sexual. But it wasn't love was it? Her fingers ran circles around his chest as it rose and fell gently.

Elizabeth was just a few inches shorter than Duncan, light brown eyes, a smile that could kill, and a body that Duncan absolutely adored. Usually for Duncan, his one night stands, stayed one night stands. But with her it was different. He liked the chase. And when he finally did fuck her, he ruined her. But his trips to the bar when she worked became regular and soon enough they began talking. And of course their relationship remained private.

"I could lay here with you forever." Duncan said, breaking the silence.

"Then why don't you?" she questioned.

"You know why, Liz." Duncan sighed.

"Duncan, anyone with eyes can see how unhappy you are." She lifted up a little bit, propping her head up in her hand before resting her other one back on Duncan's chest. "She's done nothing but drain you."

"I know."

"Then if you know why don't you just leave her?"

"It's not that simple."

Truth is, she reminded him so much of, Thomas, Tommy for short. When Duncan had lost his 3 year old son, Tommy, a year after Michael stumbled across Bryce, his entire world fell apart. She was the only living memorabilia that he had left of his precious Tommy. How could he leave that behind? No matter how toxic she was, he couldn't pull himself away and that was the only reason.

He had long fallen out of love with Tommy's mother way before they lost him. But for his son, he stayed with her and put up with all the shit she put him and their son through. And then all it took was one careless mistake and he was gone. And it's been 3 years. No he's not over it. No he hasn't forgiven her for leaving their son unattended. No he doesn't know how to move on, not yet.

When Duncan stumbled into his luxurious penthouse that he shared with, Samantha, he felt uneasy. He took his shoes off at the door, gently setting them down. He walked, slowly, to the master bedroom where the door was just cracked open slightly. And now he had his reason.

The exact same guy she told him not to worry about, was the exact same guy who laid in his bed, curled up against his, well, could he even say girlfriend? He took a deep breath, taking a moment to gather his thoughts. What could he even say? What could he even do? And then he just snapped. He walked in, grabbing the guy by his throat and taking his pistol out of his waist band, pressing it between his eyes.

"Woah man! What the fuck?!" he yelped, startling Samantha awake.

"You have 10 seconds to get your shit up off this floor and get the fuck out of my house before I blow your brains out." Duncan said through a clenched jaw.

"Duncan wa-," Samantha began to say but he cut her off.

"Shut up, bitch."

The guy wasted no time picking his clothes up off the floor and scurrying out of the room, Duncan pointing his gun at him the entire time. Duncan slammed the bedroom door shut behind him, scratching his head with his gun before throwing his hand back down to his side.

"Please don't kill me." Samantha begged on the brink of tears. Duncan chuckled, walking over to her quickly causing her to scream.

"Shut up." he grabbed her by her throat, slamming her down on the bed.

"Dunc, please... I'm sorry."

"I'm gonna talk now. And you're gonna listen. And when I'm done, you're gonna pack all of your shit and you're gonna leave. And if you don't, I'll kill you."

///

Michael took it upon himself to go get Duncan. He was suppose to come over early to meet with him and Jim to go over some analytics before leaving for Miami in evening, but as Michael continued to talk to Jim and continued looking at the time, Duncan still wasn't here. He had tried calling and texting, but he had no success. He had you and Jim try as well, but no success. He was worried now, so he made the 10 minute drive to his brother's apartment.

It was a mutual agreement to have spare keys for everyone's residency, but only for emergencies. Michael unlocked the door to his brother's place, quickly noticing where he left his shoes. So he was home and that was reassuring, but, Duncan never left his shoes by the door. Michael did the same, however, leaving his shoes by the door so he could tread lightly. He could hear a faint noise coming from Duncan's bedroom that only intensified the closer he got. That faint noise was now replaced clearly by arguing, but it sounded one sided. It was just Duncan that was yelling, but underneath all that yelling he heard a softer voice, crying.

Michael inhaled deeply, gently putting his hand on the doorknob. Every second that he stood there, slowly turning the knob as to not make a single sound, felt like a minute. He pushed the door open as far as he could, but Duncan in his new heightened rage, noticed. Still holding Sam down by her throat, he pointed his gun at the door.

"Woah woah woah." Michael said calmly, putting his hands up for Duncan to see. "It's just me."

"Do we not knock now anymore?" Duncan questioned, his eyes red and stained with tears as he looked his brother in his face.

"You weren't answering any of our phone calls and we got worried. I just came to check on you. Can you stop pointing that thing at me? I'm your brother, man. Just put down all together. I'm sure this is something that can be talked over."

"You first." Duncan replied, squinting his eyes.

"Dunc, you have go to be-,"

"I said you first!"

"Okay. Okay." Michael said, reaching behind him to pull his gun out, which he clearly showed to Duncan, finger off the trigger. He squatted down slowly, putting it on the floor, before kicking it to the side.

"Talked over?" Duncan mocked. "Her being the reason behind Tommy's death is something that can just be talked over?! Me coming home to another man in my bed is something that can just be talked over?!"

Michael knew the history behind Duncan and Samantha. Everyone did and while they tried their hardest to convince him to call it quits, Duncan never listened. He was too afraid to let go. Michael knew one day that his brother would snap underneath all his bottled up stress, but he didn't think it would of been this long and unexpectedly. Today out of all days.

"Okay." Duncan continued, tightening his grip on her neck as she just laid there, speechless, the tears pouring out of her eyes as she held onto to Duncan's arm. "So we talk out and then what? She gets to move on right? And be happy because it doesn't look like any of the shit we've gone through has affected her any. In and out of my life for 7 years, Michael. I'm 28 now."

"D-,"

"In and out of Tommy's life for 3 years he was alive. I basically was a single dad, but I kept letting this bitch come back because I loved her and when has ole Duncan ever loved a woman, huh? I should just kill her." Duncan turned his attention back to her, putting the gun back against her forehead.

"Duncan, I know you're still hurting over Tommy. Fuck, man. We all are, but what is killing her going to fix? It's not going to bring Tommy back. It's not going to take away the pain you're feeling. Duncan, you lost a child."

"It'll be justice for, Tommy."

"How do you know that this is what Tommy wanted? You don't. Listen to me, please."

"She doesn't get to walk away again." He cocked his gun, pressing it to her forehead again. Duncan, caught up in his own rage didn't even realize that Michael had stepped closer to him and he was still coming. "Why do you deserve to live? You took away someone else's life, so it's only fair right?"

"Duncan I didn't mean for Tommy to be killed!" she yelled through her tears.

"Bullshit!" he yelled back, when Michael grabbed him, wrapping his arm around his neck, before roughly pulling him away, causing him to drop the gun, which Michael swiftly kicked towards himself, picking it up and pointing it at Samantha, arm still locked around Duncan.

"You need to leave, now." Michael said, Duncan fighting to get out of his tight hold. "Get your clothes on, take your personals and just, leave. We'll send everything to your brother when we get back from our trip. If you ever show your face near or around Duncan or anyone he's close to again, I'll make sure they can't find your body, deal?" She nodded, quickly trying to get herself together, stumbling around as she tried to catch her breath. Michael waited until she was completely gone before releasing Duncan, who immediately turned around, shoving Michael back.

"Fuck you." he spat through his tears he finally let fully fall. "Why do you always get to save the day, huh?" Duncan shoved Michael again and he kept shoving him. When Michael got tired, he pushed Duncan's hands away, pulling his brother in for a tight hug instead.

"I can't say I fully understand how you're feeling, Dunc. But I can say that I get it." Michael said in the hug. "And I'm here for you. We all are." Duncan softened just a little bit, allowing for him to return the hug to Michael.

"I-," Duncan began to say, but he choked on his own words.

"You don't have to say anything. Just go get cleaned up and ready to go, okay? I'll probably be in your kitchen. Jim says you have really good snacks." Duncan pulled back to look Michael in his eyes again and he couldn't help but chuckle just a little bit.

"Yeah, okay." was all he said as he turned around to walk into his bathroom. Shutting the door behind him, he took one look at himself in the mirror. His face scratched from where Sam had grabbed him when he first choked her. His eyes red stained from his tears. He sighed, opening the medicine cabinet, retrieving a small vial with a white powdery substance in it. He put a some on the back of his hand before snorting it up his nose. He exhaled loudly, letting the tears fall again as he put it back up, coming face to face with himself again.

Great. His nose was bleeding. He quickly unbuttoned his shirt, tossing it onto the floor. He was going to reach for a towel, when he came face to face with the tattoo that took up his entire left side. He paid 4,000 dollars for the whole thing. It was a very detailed sketch of his favorite moment with Tommy. He shocked him every time how realistic it looks, but Jim always hooked his brothers up with the best because he knew they would do the same for him. It's Duncan and Tommy, both squatted down. Duncan has his arms wrapped around the boy as he's holding a model toy fire truck. In the background was a very detailed Christmas tree as it was Tommy's birthday on the 25th of December. In beautiful scripted font below it says:

Thomas 2016-2019

And a little hand print that matches, Tommy's to complete it. He gripped both sides of the sink, staring into his own eyes once again as he cried, but he couldn't help but laugh too because of how stupid he was.

"I'm so sorry, Tommy." he said. "I'm so so so sorry. And I'll keep saying it because I know I will never be sorry enough. I miss you so much."

///

The car ride was silent between Duncan and Michael as they drove back to Michael's home. Michael let him get his usual morning coffee. And when Michael stopped at the store because Jim wanted another pack of cigarettes, he got Duncan his favorite pack too. It was rare that Duncan ever smoked, though, but Michael knew he needed it. He even let him smoke one in the car, sunroof and windows cracked. He didn't even bother to try to hide his dilated pupils from his coke intoxication, the only thing that was keeping him grounded. His head rested against the window and he stared blankly, but his mind was far from blank.

When they got back, Michael helped Duncan move his bags over to the car they would be using to go to the airport. Duncan trailed behind Michael as they walked around to the back, where Jim sat in one of outdoor sofas, typing away on his business computer. All it took was one glance over and Jim could see that Duncan had been crying.

Duncan sat down next to Jim, taking out another cigarette from his box and lighting it. Michael tossed Jim his own box to which Jim smiled and nodded before turning his attention back to his other, clearly distraught, sibling. Jim threw his arm around Duncan's shoulder, pulling him closer to him, resting his temple against Duncan's. He wasn't going to question him. He knew that he would be told when Duncan was ready. But considering Duncan's state at home, he already kind of had an idea.

"We're gonna have a kick ass 3 weeks, okay?" Jim said. "The 3 of us. Like it's always been. Palm trees and beach babes. And I know whatever has got you so upset, sucks, but we're right behind you. I'm sure you know that."

And then Duncan began letting the tears fall once again as Jim tried to console him. He use to be the head strong one of the pack before he let Sam into his life. And now he was stuck and confused, searching for answers and searching for reasons why. He exhaled his cigarette slowly before tossing it into the ashtray.

"Let's just go over these analytics, yeah?" Duncan croaked out. "Business is business boys."

"That's my boy." Jim said, patting and squeezing his shoulder.

Taglist: @jimmason @angelicmichael @whatcodysaid @9layerdevilfoodcake @xavierplympton @guiltyfiend @theneverendinghunger

#cody fern #american horror story #cody fern imagine #ahs apocalypse #michael langdon #ahs #michael langdon imagine #jim mason #duncan shepherd #tribes of palos verdes #michael langdon x reader #house of cards

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multiedits · 5 years ago

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Don't swear at us if you don't like the result, it's not always easy, we can do something different for you if you want

Your limit of requests during the period before they are closed is three, but please put it all in one question

We make:

🌈 Moodboards / Aesthetics (You can also choose: Colored or Transparent background)

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✅ We make things with characters. We can also make a not characters things, for example, just some things by color or category. You can also suggest a style and color for things (for example: can I ask to make a moodboard (character) in orange, pink and black colors; can you make the character's aesthetic sad/fun?). We also do something based on your headcannons

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Suguru Kamoshida (Persona)

Haiji Towa; Monaca Towa (Danganronpa)

Marty Armstrong (Lisa RPG)

Professor Pyg; Victor Zsasz; Arthur Fleck (DC)

Hisoka Morow; Illumi Zoldyck (Hunter x Hunter)

Jack (Underworld Office)

Jared (Doll Eye)

Belle; Beast; Gaston (Beauty and The Beast)

Nanami Kiryuu (Revolutionary Girl Utena)

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Kakashi Hatake; Jiraya (Naruto)

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Kevin Thompson (Daria)

Prince Phillip; Aurora (Sleeping Beauty)

Ariel; King Triton; Prince Eric (The Little Mermaid)

Prince Florian (Snow White and the Seven Dwarves)

Tate Langdon (American Horror Story)

Archie Andrews (Riverdale)

Marty McFly (Back to the Future)

Margaret Robinson; Hobo; Jealousy; Kenneth; Lucy Simian; Mr. Yoshida; Alison Sandra Gator (The Amazing World of Gumball)

Mr. Labrador (Peppa Pig)

Felix Kranken (The Walten Files)

Lynera Skalbi (Hiveswap)

Daki (Kimetsu no Yaiba)

Selever; Garcello; Sky; Tabi (Non-canon! Friday Night Funkin)

Real People's / YouTuber's etc. (Characters from Movies/Series it's okay)

Sources:

Simpsons

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Jasper x Lapis Lazuli; Steven Universe x Spinel; Emerald x Someone from "Off Colors" team; Yellow Diamond x someone who's not Blue Diamond; Blue Diamond x someone who's not Yellow Diamond; Fluorite x Anyone; Fusions x Fusions with same characters (Steven Universe)

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Yoshi x Anyone; Bowser x Anyone; Donkey Kong x Anyone (Super Mario)

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Inosuke x Zenitsu; Zenitsu x Nezuko (Kimetsu no Yaiba)

Gregg x Anyone who's not Angus; Angus x Anyone who's not Gregg (Night in the Woods)

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Alberto x Giulia (Luca)

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Canon Lesbians x Males; Canon Gays x Females

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Stonercore (And all others with Dr*gs, Alco, Cig**ettes, but if Character have Cig**ettes on all images it's okay and we will tag it like: "tw: cig**ettes")

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7-wonders · 5 years ago

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103 with Michael! - 🥦

I did Hawthorne!Michael bc I don’t have much experience writing for him :)

In your opinion, nothing is worse than disappointing your coven. Getting a verbal dressing down by your Supreme because you had suggested that the coven start preparing for the possibility that the “Boy Wonder” might complete the Seven Wonders makes you want to crawl into a hole and die. You shouldn’t have been scolded for being logical; although Cordelia is stressed about a warlock taking the test, there was no reason for her to snap at you in front of your sisters. Although you recognize that, it still makes you feel like you’ve failed when you see the anger in Cordelia’s eyes.

You had escaped the Hawthorne School as soon as you could, climbing the sloping terrain until the circular architecture was little more than a blob. The only saving grace from this situation is that none of the warlocks had to see you get reprimanded like a child; they were in some sort of meeting, and you and your sisters were in the area that had been specifically designated as Robichaux’s for the duration of the Seven Wonders.

“I thought I had seen you sneak outside,” a smooth voice says behind you. You’re so used to the potential “Alpha” popping up suddenly that you don’t even jump when he makes his appearances.

“You don’t need to follow me around everywhere, you know. Your school doesn’t have a very complicated layout.”

Michael sits down next to you, ignoring the sideways glance you shoot in his direction. Unlike the rest of the warlocks, who avoided every single witch with the vigor of an elementary student afraid of catching cooties, Michael Langdon had decided that, for some reason or another, you were interesting enough to be around. Despite your apprehensiveness towards his motives, you couldn’t deny that you enjoyed the attention this handsome, talented man gave you. You would never let him know that, of course, hence the chilly demeanor you still attempt to keep up.

“I know. But since this is typically where I go to get away from everything, I figured I should make sure you use this spot responsibly.”

“Ah, the fawning warlocks must get old.” It sounds sarcastic, but Michael knows you’re being genuine.

“I’m not one for the spotlight, so it’s taken me some time to get used to it.” He bumps his shoulder against yours when you give a half-hearted laugh, finally getting you to fully look at him. “Are you okay?”

You sigh heavily. “Great, does everybody know?”

“No.” It goes unsaid that he was eavesdropping, whether that be through normal means or by using powers that you’ve never even seen a witch harness before. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“At this point, if a clown invited me into the woods,” you shrug, “I would just go.”

Michael frowns at the defeat in your voice. “You don’t mean that.”

“When Pennywise shows up at the treeline holding a red balloon, I’m going to prove you wrong.” Michael tilts his head in confusion, obviously not understanding the pop culture reference. “Never mind.”

“You’re not allowed to follow a clown into the woods.” That earns a laugh from you.

“Oh, really? Says who?”

“I do!” Michael insists.

“You’re supposed to hate me, hate witches in general. I don’t understand why you’re so hellbent on caring about my wellbeing.”

“Because I like you. You don’t despise me because I’m a warlock, or because I’m powerful. You don’t treat me differently, or act like you’re better than me. I care about you, whether you like it or not, and I want to know if you’re okay.”

“Truthfully, Michael, no, I’m not okay. I just got yelled at like a five year old by my Supreme, all because I suggested we shouldn’t be so sexist and start thinking about what happens if you do pass the Seven Wonders. Not only that, but it happened in front of the people who I call my sisters, and now they probably all think I have a stupid crush on you or something.”

“It’s actually the opposite.”

Michael steals the wind from your sails, and you stare at him with wide eyes. “What?”

“If they think you have a crush on me, they have it backwards. It’s me who has a crush on you.” You let out a surprised laugh, feeling better for the first time all day. “I’m not joking.”

“You’re not?”

He bites his lip, looking uncharacteristically embarrassed. “In all honesty, I thought you already knew. Especially after you helped me with vitalum vitalis yesterday and I couldn’t stop staring at you. I just assumed you were playing hard to get.”

Your cheeks heat up in record time, and you look down at the ground to see how tightly your fingers are gripping the grass. “Well, uh, I definitely wasn’t expecting that today.”

“It’s okay, you don’t have to say anything right now,” he laughs, pleased that he caught you so off-guard.

“Let’s just focus on keeping you alive through the Seven Wonders, then we can talk about feelings.” Michael smiles after voicing his agreement, already knowing how this will go. Sometimes, prophecy can be a good thing.

#michael langdon #michael langdon imagine #michael langdon x reader #michael langdon x you #american horror story #american horror story imagine #american horror story apocalypse #american horror story imagines #ahs #ahs imagine #ahs imagines

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someiconsx · 7 years ago

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michael langdon - icons. ✧ like or reblog if you use/save. ✧ @dearcardan on twitter.

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mercifuldeaths · 6 years ago

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Nothing Hurts Like A Woman Can

Michael Langdon x Reader

Summary: You aren’t aware of Michael’s resurrection abilities. and when you find out, you decide some revenge may be in order.

Notes: This has been something that’s been on my mind since December. I submitted it to @wroteclassicaly‘s kinkhour and was never the same. Some anons have submitted similar concepts since then and I hope I do all you proud. Thank you @langdonsinferno for making me finally write it. I’m not too happy with the outcome, to be honest, but I hope you enjoy.

Warnings: *all consensual*// bloodplay, knifeplay, murder kink (is that a thing? idk), character death (and resurrection), choking, nsfw content. I’m saying consensual dub con, but it is explicitly stated that this is something both partners agree to.

Word Count: 5.6K

Thank you to @yourkingcodyfern for the beautiful gif.

Outpost Four was unlike any of the others, each designed with specific instructions and layouts, of course, but for some reason, the interior was somehow lighter than any of the others you had accompanied Michael to. Everything bathed in white with cathedral ceilings, somehow still placed safely underground, far from the blasts, was refreshing after the dark corridors of Outpost Two. From what Michael told you, Outpost Three was going to be similarly dark and eerie, so you took in the reflective marble that decorated the floors and walls.

It was more...innocent. Maybe that wasn’t the word, but it just felt like a vacation from Michael’s duties. This outpost was full of more military personnel, so he felt a bit safer having you roam free. Obviously, he was still overprotective. It seemed his piercing eyes were around every corner waiting and watching, almost like he knew something was coming.

The plan had been the same as it had been for the other outposts. Simply find those worthy of salvation and kill the spares. Typically you let Michael do the work, much preferring to sit back, maybe pull a few strings to cause some trouble just for fun. It never failed to make Michael laugh a little, the way you might hide all the forks and watch the servants scramble or accidentally misinform General Maddox of a nonexistent situation in the outpost he was supposed to be in charge of.

But it was a different energy lately-especially with Michael. You were kept on a tighter leash, your lover more wound up by the day. Something wasn’t quite right and you had asked Michael what had been going on, but he explained that things were falling into place as his interviews with the occupants were coming to a close. Nobody was chosen. There would be no survivors from Outpost Four.

The small thing that Michael intentionally didn’t mention was how that somehow the General was clued into the fact that he didn’t have a spot reserved at the Sanctuary. Keeping a closer eye on you was just a precautionary measure as Maddox wasn’t a threat to him, but he wasn’t going to let that stop him from just ensuring your safety. He expected everything to go according to plan, as it usually did. For this group of survivors, Michael figured a hail of bullets would be the way for them to go. They were military after all, he was sure they would enjoy it as much as one can enjoy the thing that kills them.

Michael didn’t say much about the exact nature of his plan, he never did, but advised you to stay away from the library. So naturally, you headed down there immediately.

It should have been expected, really, with Michael being who he is and all, but still the sight of sticky red blood against the white of the marble still surprised you. He typically chose more subtle fashions for the occupants to depart whatever physical plane this was. He really was never one for getting his hands dirty.

So the splashes of blood painting the floors, walls, the furniture, everywhere was a bit of a surprise. The crimson was smeared from where the occupants clearly tried to scramble away from...not Michael, right? Guns were not his thing. Peering around the corner you remember seeing one of the issued guns that the outpost security once held, lying abandoned. You picked it up and felt it sit heavy in your palm, flicking the safety off just in case. Behind one of the massive doors leading into the corridor, you saw the trail of bodies leading to nonexistent freedoms. Following them probably wasn’t the wisest idea, but it was probably a good direction to find Michael. Maybe you really should have listened for once.

Your steps on the marble echoed no matter how softly you placed your feet due to the nature of the arched ceilings that once made things feel so open, but now made you feel exposed and like an easy target. Maybe this was Michael’s doing. But maybe it wasn’t.

Stopping, you heard steps continue to echo- a quick staccato beat against the polished surface. Because of the layout, you couldn’t tell which direction they were coming in but it wouldn’t have made a difference anyway, the person was practically running.

Michael had to do a double take when he finally reached the hall he knew you to be loitering in, still on edge and ready to crack a skull with the snap of his fingers. Likewise, you had to stop yourself from taking aim on him, but you’d recognize that long silhouette in tailored black anywhere. Sighing in relief you started towards each other but Michael looked less than pleased. That wasn’t a surprise, really.

Before he could say anything there was another gunshot that ricocheted across the hall that drew both your attention to Maddox with his pistol aimed at Michael. He may have missed the first shot but the second one…

Your scream was louder than the sound of the shot, even amplified in the large, open space. Michael’s long hair spread out around his face as he hit the floor looking like a halo even as the blood seeped from the wound that now decorated his temple. A kill shot. Maybe you would have even appreciated his aim had it been anyone but Michael.

His eyes were still open but evidently lacking life, the bright blue almost looking like a dull grey without their usual spark. You tried not to look, you really did. But the blood just kept going, spreading out across the floor and meeting your knees where you kneeled next to him, hands instinctively trying to cover the wound.

You were sure you were sobbing, but everything was clouded-feeling completely unreal, even as your hands were stained with Michael’s blood, pieces of his skull chipped away from where the bullet made contact. You could only guess the other stuff to be brain matter. The air was practically sucked from your lungs. He was dead.

Maddox laughed, you could still hear that even though you didn’t want to. His gun was still trained on you but at some point, you must have done the same to him as you were staring down the barrel towards him. Slowly standing, you were sure to not look at Michael’s form crumpled at your feet. There would be time to grieve. All the time in the world, now that any world you planned was gone with a singular bullet to the head.

‘Seeing red’ was the saying, but you didn’t believe it until it was happening. Your hands were already covered, red and sticky and still warm so why shouldn’t your mind be drenched in the same? Everything came back in sharp contrast when the general’s body was slumped against one of the many doors that lined the hallway, now a far distance from where Michael lay. Maddox was dead along with all of the other inhabitants and the fact that Michael was included made your stomach drop and chest tighten.

You couldn’t bring yourself to turn already knowing the sight that would greet you. Him, sprawled out looking somehow angelic despite you knowing he was probably in Hell that very moment. Or...maybe not. What even happens to the Antichrist after they die?

After a few strangled breaths, looking at the general's body, which was strangely soothing. Probably because a small piece of you felt that at least you avenged him, in some small way. He was obviously laying there, you knew it. But looking back, less adrenaline running in your veins, made it more real. An eternity without Michael.

Your sobs drowned out the sound of shoes clicking against the bloodstained floor, clearly walking towards you. The tap to your shoulder couldn’t be missed, however. Neither could Michael’s cocky smirk when you finally turned to see him standing there- alive and more smug than ever.

All of that tucked in the back of your mind, Michael did a sweep of the outpost to be sure there were no survivors while you made your way back to the bedroom, reluctant to leave his side, but also deciding to listen this time.

The bedroom you shared during your stay there was much the same as the rest of the architecture. It was somehow made to be airy even though it sat underground, the white marble reflecting the candlelight and making it look like a holy place. It vaguely reminded you of this cathedral you visited on that vacation to Italy years ago. A sort of gradient effect, really. Where the floors and lower parts were bright and the further up the arched ceilings went the darker they got until in some of the rooms you couldn’t see it. It wasn’t like architecture was a passion of yours or anything, but for some reason, this one outpost fascinated you.

You almost didn’t hear Michael enter, nearly scaring you for the second time in a few minutes. You watched how his shoes left bloodied footprints behind him. Red bottoms, indeed.

He sighed relief when he saw you perfected the end of your bed, still covered in a mixture of his blood and Maddox’s.

“Now I’ll answer any questions you might have about--”

“Yeah, you fucking will.”

He stared at you obviously a little confused as to why you were mad, but he could make a pretty good guess. It wasn’t the first time something like this had happened but it was the first time he knew you witnessed it. It was accidental when he learned that he could resurrect like Jesus himself, just a bit faster much to Michael’s delight. An intense ritual had gone a bit too far and he felt the life flow out of him with the viscous blood gushing from the slices on his arms. To his surprise, he awoke with most of his blood replaced and very much circulating if his throbbing pulse was anything to go by. It was good to know, he supposed but never planned on it happening again.

Of course, it did.

“I know you’re probably surprised, but-”

“Yeah, I am.” He eyed you willing you to shut up. He hated being spoken over but it wasn’t like you could help it with the mix of shock, fear, and relief flooding your senses. All underlined by steely anger. A small tilt of his head told you to shut up, though. And you were ready to listen if only to get some answers.

“I can’t exactly die. As far as I know,” he said, voice lilting. His shoulder shrugged as he slipped out of his velvet jacket, now stained with his blood. “I mean, at least from blood loss. And now headshots.” He couldn’t keep a smirk from painting his lips. “Who knows, maybe Range Rovers are my only weakness.” He absentmindedly tried to rub out one of the dark patches on the jacket, thumb rubbing over the soft texture.

When you didn’t respond he looked up, eyes wide. “That’s it. That’s all I know about it,” he said a bit defensively. Giving up on the dinner jacket, he tossed it over onto the chaise lounge poised in the corner.

Looking a bit weary, the tension and stress getting to him, he quickly stripped out of his blood-soaked clothes and left them abandoned on the floor. “I’ll shower later,” he mumbled, face pressing into the mattress he lay on. The blood on his skin, still not dry, rubbed off onto the stark white comforter with every small movement.

“So you really can’t die?” you asked, needing just a bit more confirmation before you let your mind wander any further into the spiral you already felt it heading down. It was something about the red staining the white...Michael’s body already laying in the middle of it. The undercurrent of rage you couldn’t suppress still tinting your vision the crimson color you’d grown so fond of.

“Not that I know of,” he said offhandedly.

“Good,” you noted. You knew you were being short with him and that would only make him more frustrated with you but god you loved Michael when he was a little agitated.

He still lay in the pile of blood surrounding him on the bed looking as if he had no desire to move, arms folded over his eyes to block out any light. Michael didn’t want to admit it, but dying was a bit of a process. And coming back even harder. It left him a bit tired and dare he think...weak. He was just looking forward to sleeping one more night in the now abandoned outpost before heading back to the sanctuary to regroup with his Cooperative consultants.

Feeling the bed move when you climbed in beside him wasn’t a surprise as he was sure that it would take some coaxing to get him into the shower. It was a surprise, however, when instead of you curling up next to him he felt you straddle his hips, your thighs easily settling over him.

He peeled his arms away from his eyes to see you looking down at him from your position above, hair framing your face. “What are you doing?” His eyebrows knit together. It was precious when he pretended to not know what was going on. He was obviously pretending because his hands easily found themselves resting on your hips, already pulling you closer to put some friction on his half hard cock.

“You already know. Don’t be stupid, Michael.” Your hips moved of their own accord to grind against him.

With a roll of his eyes, you knew he had given up the act. That and how he grabbed the back of your neck, pulling you down to his lips and crashing yours together. He pressed your bodies together and you could feel some of the blood that painted his chest transfer onto yours, the heat between you.

There was no pretense of gentile actions. Michael, although exhausted from his resurrection, was still a man, after all. He couldn’t help but grab wherever he could, your hip, ass, breast, anywhere he could touch while you continued nipping on his bottom lip. He knew his fingertips would leave bruises but the simplicity of feeling his pulse again was almost invigorating. He couldn’t help himself.

You felt Michael start to roll his hips up into the heat of your cunt, already wet and throbbing for him. It was so rare that he let you take just a bit of control, or initiative, rather. But when his hand reached down to either rub into your clit or to align himself with your entrance you would never know. Before he could make a proper move, your hand wrapped around his wrist and pinned it to the bed next to his head.

Pulling away from placing messy, open mouthed kisses to his neck, you saw him looking at you with wide eyes. “What?”

He offered a small shake of his head. Nothing’s the matter.

You couldn’t help but smirk as you managed to thread his cock through your folds and continued to circle your clit against him. Michael let out a low moan as you moved.The hand that wasn’t pinned down tried to reach for you again but you were faster to lightly wrap a hand around the column of his throat. No pressure, but a warning nonetheless.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he asked, his words dripping with smugness.

“I’m finally doing whatever I want,” you said matching his tone. “Now that I know there are no repercussions.”

Michael quirked an eyebrow but actually moved both his hands to reach above his head, wrists crossed, making it all that much easier for you to hold down. “Who said that there won’t be repercussions?” he challenged, but applying the slightest about of pressure to his throat seemed to get him to stop trying to mouth off.

“You’re in no position to talk, Michael.” A grind of your hips reminded him that he was, in fact, not in position to be talking back. You both knew it wouldn’t stop him.

“My mouth seems to be very free to use at the moment,” he sneered, knowing he was getting under your skin.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? My cunt on your face?” Your free hand grabbed him by the chin, forcing him to look directly at you, nearly hovering over him. “I’m really fucking mad, Michael,” you nearly spit out at him, lips centimeters from his.

The quirk of his brow wasn’t missed as he took a moment to remember what exactly had transpired. A laugh echoed through the marble room, cold and hard. It was a laugh you had heard hundreds of times-always directed at others. It was Michael’s pity laugh.

Your back straightened, hands pulling from Michael’s body and just sat on him, your palms rubbing your own thighs just to keep your hands busy. Sobering up from the lust that clouded you gave you a moment to think while a pit settled in your belly. Humiliation.

“Ohh…..you were scared? You thought you lost me…” his lilting tone continued in his mockery of you. “My sweet, Y/N. you should know better than that.” This time his now freed hand snaked up to cradle your now flushed cheek. “I’m much more resilient than you think.”

Turning away from Michael’s touch, burning you even further into a pit of embarrassment, the bedside table caught your eye. Why, you would never know. But it did. Something about the shiny handle reminded you of exactly what was inside it. Laid in a narrow, velvet lined case was the knife Michael used for his rituals.

You glanced back at Michael, his face still one of pity and felt yourself swallow whatever sort of humiliation you were feeling. He was not going to make you feel like that-no. Not when you could feel your blood boiling against your skin, your breath coming faster.

“Oh!” he let out when you slapped his hand away from your face. “Well you’ve got some bite, don’t you?”

“I’m not just angry, I’m furious,” you deadpanned, eyes still glued to the drawer. Close enough for you to reach into…

Michael’s hands gripped your hips suddenly, hard enough that they were already bruising. He slid himself up, coating his cock in your arousal, between your folds. The obscene moan that fell from his lips rivaled the pitying laugh that reverberated moments ago. But you didn’t forget.

He continued to pull you down by your hips, creating friction on himself while teasing you and coaxing more wetness from you.

“Well what are you gonna do about it?” His lips parted and were taking in deep breaths while his eyes fluttered shut.

You allowed him to keep his hands on your hips, now more trailing to your ass. It wasn’t the fact that you couldn’t wait to wake up bruised and marked from him, a small reminder of this night. It wasn’t the fact that Michael knew your body almost better than you did and dragged his cock against your slit so expertly you were already almost cumming--it wasn’t that. It was because...it kept him busy while you extended a hand to wrap around his throat again. This time you gave a delicate squeeze and saw a glint of something in his eyes. It couldn’t be fear. He had nothing to fear, right?

“What am I gonna do about it?” you quoted back to him. “I’m going to use you however I damn well want to.”

Michael scoffed and you saw red. You grabbed his cock and sunk yourself onto him in one swift movement managing to hide the slight discomfort from being split so wide so fast but not hiding the small gasp at feeling him stretch you. If Michael’s choked sigh was anything to go by, you took him by surprise. Good. That wasn’t the only surprise in store.

Immediately, he started thrusting up into you. Hips snapping with practiced ease at the pace he knew you hated. You liked to tease and be teased. So did Michael. The fact that you two usually started a bit slower wasn’t a surprise. But he was needy, desperate. You could tell in his flushed chest and strangled moans.

“Stop it,” you bit out. To your surprise, he did with narrowed eyes. “You don’t get to move.”

“I don’t get to move? What the hell has gotten into--”

He couldn’t finish his sentence with the speed at which you managed to reach into the drawer, open the box, and hold the knife up. He watched the shining blade with wide eyes. You couldn’t help the smile that pulled at your lips when the smug look on his face was promptly replaced with one of hesitation.

He took what was supposed to be a steadying breath but came out more nervous then he had expected.

“Why so nervous, Michael?” Your voice raised an octave while false innocence slipped in. You couldn’t help but circle your hips on him, his cock still buried deep. His choked groan only made you satisfied. “I thought you could survive anything. Then why are you so scared?” you growled in his ear.

Something took over him and he turned back to face you with a challenge in his eyes. “You’re absolutely right. I have no reason to be scared of you.” The pity colored his voice again but he was quickly shut up with a quick knick of the knife against his throat, just below his ear.

Michael gasped and looked to you. You couldn’t pay attention to that though, the way that the red seeped out of the small cut and onto the white linen under him was mesmerizing. You needed more.

“You’ll really be okay?” You asked just to make sure. A smile grew on Michael’s lips and he gave a small nod. By the way his dick twitched inside you you knew he was on the same page.

With a sigh, you started riding him. Working yourself along his thick cock and throwing your head back with the feeling of him stretching you. Michael snapped his hips into you, thrusting deeper as he pulled you down to meet him face to face. He liked to hold you there but not kiss or touch. It was a power play on his end-a reminder that even though he’s letting you play out a fantasy that he was the one in control. Always.

“Stay still,” you whispered, forcing your lips to brush against his. He didn’t stop his now relentless pace and you were left almost at his mercy as he gripped your hips, forcing you along his shaft. He was using you. You knew it. And usually you wouldn’t mind as he typically didn’t chase his own pleasure without thoroughly reciprocating. But tonight was different. The energy was electric and you knew what you were after. “I said to stop moving.”

Michael smirked, the smug bastard. He managed to roll you over onto your back so he was on top, more in control than ever, more selfish than ever. His thrusts slowed enough for him to watch your hips buck up, chasing him- needing him to fill you again. “Michael…” you mewled, almost losing your composure and energy. Literally belly up and offering yourself to him.

But it was his “It’s incredible how easily you give in,” said in a drawl that made your cunt tighten around him that made you almost snap. You managed to stay quiet for just another moment as he slowed the pace even further. The sounds of your bodies against each other ceased as he dragged himself out of you almost painfully slow.

You hid a moan with a small hum of satisfaction and felt a weight in your hand. The blade was still resting in your palm. Michael, too enraptured in his own pleasure and the way you looked laid out in front of him like a delicacy, didn’t notice the sharp gleam. He did notice, however, the sharp pain that radiated from his side.

“Ugh!” he yelped as hit hips unintentionally thrust deeper into you from his reflex. This time you couldn’t hold back the debauched moan that tore from you, feeling him push deeper, open you wider, split you open. “What was that?” he hissed. His hand pulled away from the wound red and bloodied.

Taking your moment, you managed to flip him over again so you straddled him, cock still sheathed. “You’re weak, Michael.” His lack of response, as well as his acceptance of your maneuvering, told you enough. “Blood loss? Or just dying in general?”

Michael still didn’t respond. His mouth dry, he nervously licked his lips as he watched you balance the knife between delicate fingers. It was a small one, designed to cut deep and offlet the most blood, the most sacred offering to his father. Michael’s blood, tainted with sin, was sacred. Wasting a drop would be sacrilege. Perhaps that’s why his father made it possible for him to uptake it again, should any be spilled.

His mind wandered considering the implications of his shed blood as you placed kisses against his collar bone, open mouthed and warm against his smooth skin. Behind your lips trailed the blade. It didn’t hurt the way it did when he performed a ritual, he mused. It felt good. But then again maybe it was just the fact that he was still buried to the hilt in your dripping cunt. With that realization he couldn’t help but give a small upward snap of the hips, hoping-no, praying- for some friction against your walls that he could already feel fluttering against him.

“You’re gonna cum for me already? Poor thing, we’ve just started.” Michael’s lofty voice pulled you from leaving the small map of curves along his torso, arms, traveling up to his neck. From the shallow nicks, dark blood flowed. It almost looked black all beaded against his skin, seeping from the puckered slice and flowing red over his pale body. You couldn’t help but run a hand over them, painting him further.

“You’re right. We have only just started,” you stated and pulled a deeper cut along his chest just under his left pec. Michael choked out a strangled sigh. “Oh you liked that?”

His mouth was still cotton dry- but he managed to gasp out, “Keep going. Even if I pass out, keep going.” You nodded and were more than happy to accept his order.

Trailing the knife further, you placed a matching mark on the other side- deeper this time. He jumped a bit causing his cock to hit your cervix just a little too hard. You both hissed. In retaliation, you ground yourself onto him before starting up a slow pace. Michael’s mouth fell open as he rocked his hips up into you.

“No, no. Don’t move,” you managed to murmur. Your fingers slipped over the cuts you left on him. The map of lines was blurring together for form a bastardized pentagram over his torso. “So pretty…” You ran your fingers through the drips to cover your hands in the smeared blood.

You continued to work yourself along the shaft of his cock, riding him slow, teasing. Losing his patience, his hands flew to your hips to press you hard against him, needing you to be full of him.

“I said not to move,” you nearly shouted as you started to feel the rage rise again. Michael didn’t listen, his eyes shut and he reveled in the feeling-your wetness smearing over his cock as he drew you against it again and again, the stinging of the cuts that had already started to heal, the still wet blood-warm against his skin.

Michael was starting to look utterly debauched below you. Shaking, gasping, painted in red-but his skin was starting to look a little pale. Maybe from blood loss, twice over now, or maybe it was because he had just risen from the dead. You quickly pushed the thought out of your mind and watched the way his blonde hair had started to tangle under your hands and how pretty his eyes look practically rolling into the back of his head.

“Mmmmm,” he whined as you dragged the blade again, this time over his clavicle. You continued your steady motions on him. Your cunt tightening around him as his cock twitched with desperation. You knew he was close….just needed to be pushed over the edge.

Abandoning the knife just off the side of his head, you laid yourself flush against him, changing the angle. Believing he was free from your spoken constraints, his hands found themselves wherever they could gain purchase. One pressed to your lower back to push you even further onto his throbbing cock causing you to whine.

It was almost animalistic. With Michael’s thrusts meeting you, still not yet used to the sensation of him filling you-making you feel as if you were split open every time, your hands went to tug on his hair, just a little. His mouth fell open and you swallowed the moan that came from him, wanting even that in you.

“Michael…” you hummed and felt your fingers wrap around the engraved handle of his knife.

“Yeah?” he gasped out. You ignored the yelp that he let out when you bit down on his collarbone, sucking as if to release the marrow.

“I asked you not to move.”

“What?”

The blade met his torso, hard. A full stab between the ribs and Michael was spilling into you, painting your insides with his seed. You continued to ride him, allowing him the pleasure of his high while still chasing yours.

The red of his blood was dark as it pooled and spread over the white linens below the two of you. Thick and viscous, it stuck to you as you continued to fuck him through his orgasm.

Michaels vision went blurry, but you were a sight to see. He felt his cum dripping out of your tight heat and back into his cock. He couldn’t be positive it was cum, though, as he knew his warm blood was seeping out of the long lines of cuts that decorated him. The lightheadedness from resurrecting was unlike any other. That in conjunction with more blood loss, he was weak. He knew it. And as much as he hated it, he loved it.

He felt another point of pressure, stabbing pain-deeper than when he did rituals. He wasn’t sure if he came again, but it felt like it. It wasn’t even painful anymore, just a feeling, the sensation of his life rushing out of him. You taking it from him. No-him giving it to you. Because as weak as he was, Michael knew he was the fucking antichrist and could take anyone down with the snap of his fingers- no matter how exhausted he was. But he handed this power to you, allowed you to defeat him. Temporarily at least.

“Come on,” he breathed out. “Come on my cock like the scared little girl you are.”

It was no secret that you were close. Michael could read you like a book and your sloppy movements, still taking him to the hilt each time, were losing rhythm. That and your ragged symphony of gasps and moans were indication enough.

Michael was holding on by a thread, wanting, needing, to feel you cum on him. Needing that tightness as you milked his cock, needy and grabbing onto him, needing to swallow one final whine from your lips, needing one last grasp at control. He needed to know that he did that-he made you cum for him.

His head continued swimming as he whiteknuckled onto consciousness just to feel you tip over the edge. With one more piercing sensation , this time right above his heart, he knew he wouldn’t last. The world faded with you hovering above him.

He couldn’t feel his body. Nerve endings starved of oxygen, muscles sore and empty. He did hear “You don’t deserve to feel me cum,” before a high, strung out whine as he completely blacked out.

You looked over to him where he lay, still sprawled on the bed. He was back and you could tell from the flush that decorated his chest and cheeks that his blood flow was probably back to normal. The sheets that were soaking and stained red just minutes before were back to being a crisp white. Every drop found itself back in Michael’s veins and being put to good use. His tired eyes open just wide enough to see you standing next to the bed where you were working on washing some of the drying blood off of you with a cloth.

“Can’t die, right?” you drawled as he continued to watch you from the corner of his eye.

He let out a dramatic sigh. “Didn’t die just now. Bloodloss...passed out.”

“You’re just mad because I fought back. So condescending, Langdon,” you said but kept a playful tone. Michael gave a half smile at the use of his surname.

“I let you do all that.” He placed his hands behind his head and lay as a picture of relaxed confidence. Seemed like his ego came back even faster than his heartbeat did. Maybe he never lost it.

Your eyebrow arched in response and you smirked. “Sure, Michael.”

The only reason you let him and his ego win was because it just meant you’d get to do a better job. Michael was already thinking of the next time if the way his gaze lingered over the blood that still streaked your body was anything to go by...and red really was his color.

Tags: @ccodyfern @langdonsinferno @starwlkers @langdonsdemon @michael-langdon-appreciation @babypinkstyles94 @i-will-die-for-jim-mason @langdonsrapture @avesatanormalpeoplescareme @langdonalien @katiekitty261 @lovelykhaleesiii @aveiangdon @sojournmichael @sojournx @jim-mason2@americanhorrorstudies @antichristwrites @wroteclassicaly @lvngdvns @1-800-bitchcraft @nana15774 @missantichrist @venusxxlangdon @gold-dragon-slayer @cocosfern @mega-combusken @michael-langdon-owns-my-soul @and-shes-not-even-pretty

#michael langdon x reader #michael langdon smut #ahs fanfiction #ahs smut #michael langdon fanfiction #tw blood #tw violence #tw bloodplay #tw knifeplay #tw choking

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thelangdoncooperative · 7 years ago

Text

Scary Love | Michael Langdon x Reader x Jim Mason

Jim and Y/N had just come back to shore after spending the better part of the day amongst the waves. They spent most of their time at the beach. It was what brought them together. They had met when Jim saw her in the water, desperately trying to teach herself how to balance on her board. As they walked back up the beach, lugging their boards under their arms, there stood a blonde boy in all black.

Jim rolled his eyes as soon as he saw him.

“Oh my god,” Y/N looked from the blonde to the brunette beside her, “Is that him?” She raised her hand to shield her eyes from the sun.

Jim nodded reluctantly, “He wasn’t supposed to be home for another few days. Dumbass in all black in the middle of the summer,”

“Be nice,” she laughed, bumping her shoulder against him, “That’s your brother,”

As they approached him, Jim stuck his surfboard in the sand to hug his brother. They were identical physically in almost every way. What made the blonde different wasn’t just his hair color but the way he stood straight, confident, and somehow wise beyond his years.

“Michael, you remember Y/N ,” Jim motioned to her, “Y/N, you remember my brother,”

She smiled as he hugged her tight. Of course they remembered each other. Although Michael hadn’t lived at home for quite some time, they kept in regular contact. He’d even come down a few times to see her though he asked her not to tell Jim. She enjoyed her time with Michael as much as she did her time with Jim but it was different. Jim and Y/N simply took care of each other in a way that Michael didn’t need to be taken care of. If Michael called her in the night, it was to talk, to ask about her day. Most of the time when Jim called in the dead of night, she had to pick him up from weird place and he was most certainly high off his mind.

When she visited Michael, she’d stay the night and they’d lay up all night talking about the future. She couldn’t imagine one without her boys in it and she always said that. She loved them both. Jim was sweet and attentive and liked to hold her close. Michael was satisfied with just being near her with the occasional caress of her face or stroke of her hair. She loved how playful Jim was with her, how she could be herself. She loved how Michael grounded her without stifling her spirit.

“It’s nice to see you. I feel like I’m seeing double. I forgot how much you guys look alike,”

“Me and Jim?” He looked at his brother with a playful grimace, “I got all the good looks. What do you mean?”

Jim rolled his eyes, surfboard back in hand and walked past his brother, “C’mon, Y/N” he called back as he continued to the car.

Y/N hung back for a moment, looking to Michael, “Do you need a ride? How did you get here?”

Michael shook his head, smiling at her generosity. He remembered just in these few minutes with her why Jim talked about her non-stop, “No, I’m fine. I drove. Maybe I’ll see you guys back at the house.”

Y/N nodded and met Jim at the car. Michael watched for a brief moment as his brother helped her load what they had brought with them. Whatever he said had amused her and her head fell back as she rewarded him with a genuine laugh and a playful push. She was beautiful but most importantly she had a free spirit she wished he and Jim could possess.

Michael had beaten them back to the house. Jim and Y/N came in, as rambunctious as they had been on the beach, bags of food in their hands as they spoke. Michael looked up from his spot on the couch, legs up on the coffee table in front of him.

“I hope you brought enough for the whole class,” Michael teased when they came into the living room.

Y/N looked into the bag, “Jim said you liked burgers. Is that okay?” Michael nodded and followed them to the kitchen.

“I’ll be back. Gonna change real quick,” Jim announced before heading down the hall to his room.

Y/N called after him, “Bring me a sweatshirt!” Her t-shirt had gotten wet at the beach and hadn’t yet dried. She only had her bikini to cover her chest at present. When she heard the click of his bedroom door, she came around the island, leaning next to Michael, “We haven’t talked too much lately but you know about him right?”

“What do you mean?” Michael asked, shoving fries in his mouth. She was so close to him he could smell her sunscreen. She smelled like peaches and salt-water and he didn’t know it was a combination he needed in his life. He fought the urge to run his eyes down her body.

She nodded her head towards Jim’s room, “He’s been taking pills. It’s been rough here. Which is why I assume you left, to be honest. I try to keep him occupied during the day. We spend a lot of time at the beach or at my house if your folks are home,” she explained and Michael nodded.

“He told me you take good care of him,” he put his hand over hers which lay on the island, “Thank you. I give him a hard time but he’s my brother and it’s nice to know someone is watching out for him,”

Y/N smiled and gently squeezed Michael’s hand, “Of course. He’s my best friend,”

“Your best friend..Is that all?” Michael asked.

She nodded, “Yeah, why would you-“ she was cut short by Jim’s return and she stepped away from his brother when he entered the kitchen.

“Here ya go,” he said, tossing her his sweatshirt as he gave Michael a quick frown. She threw it on and handed the boys their food. Michael liked the way she looked in Jim’s clothes, mostly because the sweatshirt he gave her had their last name across the back.

Michael watched her move around the kitchen. She clearly spent a lot of time there as she knew the layout like the back of her hand. She gave Jim whatever he asked for. She seemed to baby him but he loved it. As the brothers spoke, she watched them and when Jim’s damp hair fell in his face, she pushed it back without a second thought. It seemed they were completely comfortable in each other’s presence. Michael was happy that his brother had someone to care for him this way, especially since he was the one who was left behind when Michael went away to school. However, there was something in him, some pang of jealousy he felt whenever Y/N brushed against him or laid her head on his shoulder. When Jim kissed her head when she did, Michael could’ve sworn it was done to spite him.

Y/N stayed with them for a few hours, cleaning up the mess they had made of the kitchen and giving Jim his sweatshirt back as she headed for the door. They had spent a good portion of that time eating and watching movies. Michael was shocked that Y/N could eat as much as they did. He forgot what it was like to have her around. She could be soft but she never let them speak over her. She was as shy as she was commanding. He was completely taken with her all over again by the time she left. She was a force unlike any other he had met before.

“Okay, boys” she said as she grabbed her car keys, “Be good,” she kissed Jim on the cheek and squeezed Michael’s hand as she passed where he sat on the couch, “if you guys need anything let me know,”

“Drive safe,” Jim said as she left while Michael simply smiled. When the door closed behind her, Michael turned to his brother.

“What’s going on there?”

Jim shrugged, “I’m not sure what you’re talking about,” Michael rolled his eyes and turned his sights back on the television.

Later that night, Michael woke up to the incessant buzzing of his phone. Half-asleep, he reached around his nightstand feeling for it. When he finally looked at the number, it was Jim’s. He answered without hesitation.

“Hello?” He grumbled, “Do you know what fucking time it is, Jim?”

Y/N sniffled, taking a deep breath before she spoke, “Michael. It’s Y/N. I’m sorry to call. Jim’s with me. He’s at mine but he wants to talk to you. He’s on something but he won’t tell me what,”

Michael sat up in his bed, “Why are you crying?”

“It’s fine. We’re fine. He’s just a bit upset,” she explained, “Would you mind coming to talk to him?”

“Text me your address,” he said before hanging up and rushing to get dressed.

When he reached her house, she was sitting on the porch, wrapped in Jim’s blue jacket. She rose from her seat when she saw Michael bound up to meet her, “He’s inside,” she wiped her face with the sleeves of Jim’s jacket, “He’s-“ She flinched as she heard a crash inside, “He’s really upset,”

Michael looked at her face, all pink and puffy from crying, bringing his hands to rub her arms, “He didn’t put his hands on you, did he?”

“No,” She answered, giving him a look that told him he had just asked the dumbest question she had ever heard.

“Just stay here. I’ll go talk to him.” He went inside and there was a silence as Y/N waited outside. It was quiet for a long while and she was grateful that Michael had finally calmed him down. Usually all it took was a reaffirmation of her love for him and her open arms to settle him. Not tonight. Tonight she wasn't enough.

Michael came out, squatting down in front of Y/N as he spoke, “He’s better now. Just needed a little talking to,” he put his hands over hers, “Don’t worry. He’s gonna be fine,” he thumbed away the tears on her cheeks.

“He won’t be fine,” she shook his head, “Not until he kicks this completely. I don't know what to say or what to do to make him stop. He’s so good when he’s not on that shit,” Michael continued stroking her cheek as she spoke.

They both looked to her front door when it swung open. Jim looked around, looking for Y/N.

“There she is. Beautiful Y/N. I’m so sorry,” he said slowly. All his movements seemed slow. His face was clammy and he blinked long and hard. He looked at Michael who removed his hands from her face, “And my brother. My loyal brother with his hands on my girl,” Michael rose to his feet, frowning at his brother when Y/N put her hand to his chest to stop him in his tracks.

“Enough. Both of you, stop,” she said, moving to hug him.

Jim wrapped his arms around her, leaning down to her ear, “He can’t have you. He wants you but he can’t have you,”

“You’re high as a fucking kite, little brother. You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about,”

Jim shook his head lazily at his brother, “I can see. I can see what’s happening here. Between you two,”

“Jim,” Y/N frowned, “I love you. Please stop. I don’t like when you get like this,”

“Angel, angel, angel” he chanted as he took her face in his hands a bit too tight.

She put her hands over his, whimpering a bit at how tight he held her, “Can we go to bed now? Please? Jim, I’m tired,”

He nodded, looking at Michael, “You should leave. You think you can come home once every 6 months and it means something,”

“You could’ve come with me!” Michael yelled.

Y/N shook her head at Michael, wanting the fighting to stop as she put Jim’s arm around her shoulder and brought him to bed.

“You’re not going to leave, right?” Jim asked as she held him in bed, rubbing his back while he buried his face in the valley of her breasts.

She kissed the top of his head, “I love you more than life itself, Jimmy. I’m here. I’m here,”

“I can stop for you,” he mumbled sleepily, “I can. I will,”

When he was finally asleep, she slipped out of the bed and went back outside. She knew Michael would be waiting. She silently took a seat beside him on the porch bench. They sat in silence for a long time with nothing but the wind and the distant sound of the water hitting the shore to fill the gaps. She pulled her feet up, hugging her legs to her. After awhile, she leaned her head to rest against his shoulder and he wrapped his arm around her.

“Michael, do you think it’s possible to love more than one person?” She asked as she looked up at the moon.

He paused for a moment, considering her words, “I’ve only ever loved one person so I can’t say for certain...but I think so.”

@duncans-donuts @langdonfern @langdonsdemon @duncvn @goshdarnitthatsalongname @silkyhoneybaby @samanthasmileys @justareader @toohalseymuch @sloppy-wrist @xscarlett-rosex @lukeyasheycalymikey @14-bees @meggleangelo @kylolangdon @ofbadchoices @y0utoo @javeneov03 @our-mrlangdon @gallxntdean @drowning-ophelia-writes @bitchchatter @howaboutanap @tigers-pat @boofy1998 @hxdesworld @langdon-michael @mystic-reader @01-800-mary

#michael langdon #jim mason #michael langdon x reader #jim mason x reader #tribes of palos verdes #american horror story

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