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sweetlangdon · 5 years

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Steal Into My Melancholy Heart (Michael Langdon x Reader Beauty and the Beast AU)

Notes: Here it is (finally), the start of the AHS: Apocalypse Beauty and the Beast AU. There’s going to be a lot of changes to canon. Some characters have been left out, others have a different backstory and purpose to suit this AU ‘verse. Hopefully everything makes sense as the story goes on! The title comes from the song “Evermore” in the 2017 version of Beauty and the Beast, because I can’t help myself.

Word Count: 3.7k+

Warnings: Some violence, mentions of gore and blood.

{Prologue}

A thin veil of moonlight fell across the obsidian spiral, a monolith shrouded in a layer of dense fog. It parted around Cordelia Goode’s shoes, chilly and damp, clouding an otherwise clear night. The Hawthorne School looked abandoned. That was for a purpose, for protection, but a feeling clawed its way deep into her gut that suggested maybe they were already too late.

That the warlocks had suffered the same fate as her girls.

She could still hear their screams, their agony echoing in her ears. The shadow of their blood still clung to her hands. Even in the dark, she saw the trails it had leached under her nails and how it sat in the creases between her knuckles. The house had reeked of it, the blood and carnage heavy in the air, bright red pooling on the immaculate floors. She’d sat there for the longest time, minutes turning to an hour she didn’t have, hollow with grief. That house was now their tomb. Cordelia had left their bodies where they’d fallen, cold and still and pale. Fingers and lips turning blue. The halls of her school silenced.

Four had survived. It was enough, for now, to hold together Cordelia’s shattered heart.

Madison, Mallory, Coco, and Emily trailed in her wake, footsteps whispering across the dry, desert earth. She could hear their quiet weeping, their sniffling and heartache so palpable it settled on her chest like stones. They hadn’t spoken on the plane ride here, too stricken with heartache and shock and anger that words didn’t seem enough. The march up to the doors of Hawthorne felt like a funeral procession. Somber. Bleak. Their black clothes, still holding the scent of their fallen sisters’ blood, a sign of mourning rather than tradition.

Cordelia steeled herself, wiping the last of her tears from the corner of her swollen eye with the edge of her thumb, as she came to a halt at the doors. Where they were still coming from, she didn’t know. How could she have any left to cry? What would she do if they found the warlocks slaughtered inside their school?

The quiet unnerved her. The hum of crickets, the distant sway of leaves in a nocturnal wind. The strange, dark cylinder towering over them stood resolute and still as a grave. If it had become one, then she couldn’t see a way out of this. She couldn’t see a light beyond the hurt and despair. Not right now. Not when they’d already lost so much.

Every muscle in Cordelia’s body tensed when the door slid open. The surviving witches, gathered at her sides, looked up once warm, flickering light spilled over the threshold and broke the chill of the night. Golden candle light illuminated the tears that glistened on their faces.

John Henry Moore leaned against the doorway, a pale wisp of smoke coiling up from the cigarette between his fingers. Cordelia’s knees almost buckled from relief.

“Oh, thank god,” she exhaled. “Are you all right? The students—are they all okay?”

One of John Henry’s dark eyebrows rose. “Yeah,” he drawled. “Why?”

“Michael Langdon isn’t here, is he?” Her tone had turned dangerous, the hate dripping from her curt question.

“Haven’t seen him since he fucked off into the woods, Cordelia.” He pushed off the wall and moved to let her and the girls through, then took a drag from his cigarette. He sounded annoyed. “What is it? Kind of late to be making unannounced house calls. It’s past curfew.”

“We’re not here for your witty comebacks, asshole,” Madison countered.

Before John Henry could take offense, Cordelia started down the hall toward the elevator, the girls following close behind, a cacophony of heels ricocheting across marble and stone.

“We don’t have a lot of time.”

“You want to explain what’s going on?”

They took the elevator down beneath the earth. John Henry leaned against the wall, taking long drags from his cigarette and eyeing the group of young witches congregated tightly opposite him. Madison was silently furious, arms crossed over her chest, her sharp glare fixed on the closed doors. Mallory sniffled, drabbing at her eyes with the edge of a long, black sleeve. Emily found solace in Coco, her head pressed to Coco’s shoulder. Cordelia looked beside herself, her gaze distant, restless as they waited for the elevator doors to hiss open.

“You were right.” Cordelia’s voice broke, frayed with the tears that still trickled down her cheeks. “About everything. You were right.”

“Now what’s all this?” Behold Chablis joined them as they filed into the cavernous heart of The Hawthorne School, a labyrinth of candle lit staircases and hallways. His question, rising sharply at the end, filled up the quiet. The students were locked away in their dormitories for the night. Safe and oblivious to the danger heading their way, for now.

“Miss Goode was just about to tell me.”

“Langdon,” her voice cut deeply into the name as her eyes fluttered closed to stave off more tears, “Michael Langdon…murdered my girls. We were lucky to escape when we did. And if we don’t act now, then this school—you and your students are next. I don’t know how much time we have.”

“Jesus.” John Henry muttered. He turned away, scratching at an eyebrow with the edge of his thumbnail.

Behold’s dark eyes widened. “I’ll evacuate the school.”

“No,” Cordelia said. “We might need them.”

“For what?” Behold asked. “I’m not leaving our boys to be some Antichrist’s cannon fodder, Miss Supreme. Not after he slaughtered your girls.”

“Coming here wasn’t about just warning you. We need a curse,” she explained. Madison and Mallory exchanged looks of surprise before they caught her eye. She’d kept her plans to herself, an impulsive decision on the flight to California. “And if memory serves, the reigning expert on curses is you.” She turned to John Henry.

At her pointed look, he scoffed. “We need a firing squad, not a curse.”

“Shockingly, I agree,” Coco said softly.

“You never said shit about that,” Madison said. “I mean, what the fuck, Cordelia?”

“We have to fight him,” Emily agreed. “I don’t care what it takes.”

Mallory’s eyes narrowed. “What kind of curse?”

John Henry held up a hand. “Forget it.”

“He has too much power now,” Cordelia reasoned. “We can’t kill him…we can’t even stop him if we tried. I felt that power when he broke past the defenses at Robichaux—Langdon’s the Devil’s son, and that makes him invincible. Our only choice is to play the long game. Survive the impossible, together, and create something that tears him down, bit by bit. Make him his own demise.”

“So your solution is,” Behold drawled, “to…sit back and watch the world go up in flames? Let him win?”

“He’ll think he’s won,” Cordelia said, a determined grin curving one side of her mouth despite the tears that welled in her eyes. “And then he’ll get what he deserves for all the chaos he’s wrought, slowly, until his death sets things right again. A hard reset. Everything back to the way it was.”

She’d had a lot of time to think on the plane.

John Henry laughed, but there wasn’t much humor in it. “That’s a tall order.”

“Yeah, no shit.” Madison rolled her eyes.

“Wait,” Coco interrupted. “Can we…really do that?”

“No,” Behold answered at the same time John Henry deadpanned a halfhearted, “Definitely not.”

“Yes,” Cordelia insisted, her voice shaking. Her gaze flittered to Mallory, who hadn’t spoken a word of dissent or skepticism. “There’s enough power in this room—in this school. If we combine that magic, I know we can. I have to believe it, otherwise what else do we have left?”

“Curses are stubborn. Delicate,” John Henry said. “They have to be precise, not to mention the amount of magic they require. You can’t engineer a curse in a single night, Cordelia, it can’t be done. Not for what you’re asking.”

“We have to find a way.”

“It’s just not possible,” seemed to be John Henry’s final answer. Resolved to defeat.

“I’m sorry,” Behold offered. “Wish we could—”

“I think we should do it,” Mallory said. “I know…I know Cordelia’s right. We have enough magic right here in this room. We have to try.”

“What the hell, right?” Madison flicked her long hair behind her shoulder. “Mallory’s magic could power the whole curse by itself. I’ve seen it.”

The witches murmured their agreement.

“It’s not the magic I’m worried about,” John Henry replied. “Curses are unwieldy. I’ve never designed one this complex.”

“Well,” Coco said brightly. “First time for everything.”

***

They settled into the central hub of The Hawthorne School, their work lit by roaring fires and sconces on the walls. John Henry gave each of them a task based on their skill level, some facet of the curse that was theirs to render with their magic. By that time, he and Behold determined that they’d only need a few of the students lend their talents, and the rest would be sent in groups to scatter themselves in different directions across the state. To escape and survive the impossible, as Cordelia said.

Three Hawthorne students had joined the witches and John Henry, chosen by Behold’s own meticulous eye. He knew those boys well enough, saw their magic at work in his classes. They’d proven to be the most proficient with the incantations and sigils needed to design their curse.

Timothy, Andre, and Gallant circled around John Henry like a trio of baby ducklings, a force of habit that couldn’t be broken even under the unusual circumstances. The boys cast wary glances at the witches in their midst, unused to working alongside them. They were half-dressed in their Hawthorne uniforms, not quite so polished, the dress codes forgotten. Sleep still clouded their vision as they struggled with whatever archaic texts John Henry shoved at them.

The room was a mess—papers littered with John Henry’s inelegant scrawl, more discarded on the floor than kept for revision; old books heavy with a musty scent in careless piles for reference. Most were in Latin, others almost unreadable even to Cordelia’s rather astute magical knowledge.

She hoped these archaic words and symbols would be enough. There had been more than one argument ricocheting off the vaulted ceilings in the long hours they’d spent working on this. Cordelia knew what it would take, how she wanted the curse to evolve as time wore on, but translating that to magic had John Henry at his wit’s end.

There were variables to consider. And layers upon layers of incantations, each with a specific purpose. Not to mention, they had to put the entire world back together—and billions of lives—once the curse had slowly withered Langdon away. One wrong link in that chain and everything else would crumble. So, of course, there had been shouting matches and a litany of swearing and one instance of John Henry walking the fuck out of the room for another cigarette as tensions ran high.

“We need a failsafe,” John Henry decided.

Cordelia reached over the table of papers and books to reach her wine glass. “Like what?”

John Henry sighed, ink-stained fingers splayed on the tabletop. He slumped forward a little and stifled a yawn. “You said it yourself. Kid’s got the protection of fucking Satan. If this isn’t enough to wear that down and kill him over time, we’re gonna need backup. Another way to take the shot. So to speak.”

“Well, he’s still half-human.”

“I think that ship has sailed,” Behold mused. He refilled Cordelia’s wine glass with a languid sweep of his fingers.

“I’m talking about emotionally,” she explained. “He’s…sensitive. You saw his reaction when we retaliated. The way he cried over that woman. I don’t have much hope for whatever humanity is left in him, but if we can use it to bring him down, that might be our only shot. If the evil in him doesn’t break him, then maybe his heart will.”

“You think the Antichrist is capable of love?” Behold raised an eyebrow.

“I don’t know.” She shook her head. “That human heart of his—Michael’s heart—might.”

John Henry heaved another long-suffering sigh. “That’s a gamble.”

Cordelia took a sip of wine, her gaze downcast to the scattering of notes. “It’s all we have.”

They chose the main foyer to lay their trap.

Right below where the two central staircases converged, there was ample floor space. Langdon would have to set foot there when he arrived at Hawthorne, and by the time he recognized the power that surrounded him, it would be too late. For that to work, they needed the curse to soak into every single fiber of the room, to make the space itself alive with the full force of their magic.

And piece by piece, it did.

Sigils were burned into the floor, where they disappeared out of sight. That was Mallory’s doing, her strong, unwavering magic building the foundations of the curse. She had the most work of all, though she didn’t complain about it. Not once. Not even when she and Cordelia and Behold had to figure out the complex magic involved in restoring the entire Earth. The hard reset Cordelia insisted on seemed to be beyond anyone’s capabilities. But she was the exception.

More sigils were inlaid in the walls. John Henry oversaw the precise order and placement of each one from the notes that no one could read because he’d written them. The incantations were the most important—and required every single witch and warlock to chant the ancient words as one. That was the trickiest part. John Henry, Behold, and Cordelia went over the exact pronunciation beforehand until their students were tired of it; archaic Latin wasn’t everyone’s best subject at either school of magic, and one wrong syllable would topple all their hard work.

Designing a curse was fucking exhausting.

Emily slumped onto the staircase. Through a yawn, she asked, “So, what happens now?”

“This is going to get ugly,” John Henry said, running a palm across his face. “He’s coming here for revenge. He’ll want blood.”

“Which means you all need to get yourselves out of here,” Behold agreed.

“The three of us will stay behind,” Cordelia said. She studied the weary faces in front of her, so young, trying to hide their fear. “We’ll get out once we know Langdon’s activated the curse. But if this works—”

“And it should,” John Henry grumbled.

“We’ll have to stick close,” Cordelia told them. “We have to see this through to the end.”

***

A midday sun blazed scorching hot across the dry desert earth. Michael Langdon inhaled the scent of dust and heat, pausing to consider the gruesome scene in front of him. Three large birds, their pitch black feathers fluttering, beady eyes reflecting the bright sky, poked at an animal carcass. He couldn’t tell what it was. Maybe a rabbit or a squirrel; tufts of brown fur were lost in the gore, dark scarlet staining the cracked earth. Two of the birds fought over the animal’s innards, pulling at them with their sharp beaks. Michael turned away, slightly unsettled, the edge of his cape rustling in the wind. He had no reason to fear the blackbirds—they were harbingers of his father’s presence, they kept a watchful eye from above.

And they wouldn’t be the only ones to spill blood today.

Michael drew in another deep breath, his fingers curling into light fists at his sides. He wasn’t so blinded by his own rage and vengeance that he couldn’t sense the magic inside Hawthorne. It was almost oppressive. It had never been that way before, not when he was a student. Maybe then he hadn’t been so sensitive to it. The power inside him was far stronger than it had been when he turned the library into a furious snowstorm. But now Hawthorne’s magic felt different to him, seeping out of the strange building to coil at his shoes like a fine mist.

It was strong. Defensive, he thought, if he had to give it a particular quality. But it wouldn’t give him any trouble. No witch or warlock had the power to rival Satan’s own son.

Hawthorne was quiet. Michael noticed an unusual tension in the air, a breath away from snapping. He could still remember the meticulous class schedules and customs, how the halls were always buzzing with noise and footsteps and voices chanting. Lessons took up every odd corner and room. The only time he’d ever seen it this quiet had been long after curfew, when he’d slip away to visit Ms. Mead, memorize the layout of the school, or try and contact his father.

It was just after twelve thirty in the afternoon. And yet, the halls were abandoned.

No, Michael thought, a snarl on his lips. Evacuated.

Someone told them he was coming.

“Cordelia,” Michael growled.

“Hello, Michael.” The voice was a gruff, familiar one that hadn’t so much said his name as it had spat it back at his feet.

Michael found John Henry Moore sitting in the middle of one of the main staircases. A single, flickering flame from a lighter—which he appeared to have some trouble igniting—illuminated the purple shadows beneath his eyes and his jaw shadowed by stubble. His gaze was dark, sharp as a razor.

“I thought you would have been smart enough to leave,” Michael said. His voice carried, bouncing off the cavernous walls as he approached. “After all, you were the one to see past the bullshit. You had me all figured out.”

John Henry’s gaze didn’t break from him, not when he took a long drag from his cigarette. Michael tilted his head a little, a provocation for whatever sarcastic comment John Henry had to offer him. The school’s magic still pressed in on him at all sides, in relentless waves, though there was no one else in sight. He listened, fingers flexing at nothing, stirring up the air. Testing it.

With a rough flick of his wrist, Michael sent John Henry flying backward up the staircase. His lighter clattered onto the steps at the same time his body landed with a crack, his neck twisted at a sickening, abnormal angle. A thin ribbon of blood trickled from the corner of his mouth onto the floorboards. His open, sightless eyes reminded Michael of the blackbirds feasting on their gory prey.

Michael lifted his chin in approval. But when he stepped forward to admire his grim handiwork, the magic in the room seemed to shift. Michael staggered back from the intensity of it, the crushing weight he felt from all sides. It immobilized him, kept him rooted to the spot where he stood. His hands curled into fists so tight that his nails bit into the skin of his palms. He tried to push against it, break it down like he’d torn through the defenses at the witches’ school. A hoarse, mournful, frustrated cry ripped free from his throat as the magic overpowered him and forced his knees to collapse.

And when he looked up, beneath the curls that had fallen into his eyes, he saw how the room itself had changed. He watched the markings surface on the walls. Symbols that meant nothing to him, scored into the stone and wood and tile as if they’d been etched there by fire. He lifted his palm when they appeared under him like they’d scorch his flesh. The complicated patterns arranged one by one, circle by circle. There was no one else in the room with him, not that he could see, but the air echoed with voices. They chanted as one, their ghostly chorus filling up the silence. Words he’d never heard before.

Words, he realized, that were meant to harm him.

“You’re not used to weakness, are you?” another voice asked.

“Cordelia,” Michael spat.

The ground trembled under the influence of magic. Some of the fires in the sconces on the walls flickered out. Michael let out a sob when the suffocating weight of the magic surrounding him turned into a sudden flash of pain. He fought again, pushing a hand toward Cordelia, fingers rigid with agony and a surge of pure hatred. Cordelia didn’t even flinch.

“You’re just a sad, scared little boy,” she told him. “And if you want to embrace that evil, then fine. You do that. You can tear apart the world until there’s nothing left. But now…it will cost you, Michael.”

“It already has,” Michael sobbed through gritted teeth.

“No.” Cordelia shook her head. “Not like this. If you want to become a monster, then who are we to deny you that? Your actions will have consequences, now; ones you won’t have any control over. The further you descend into darkness, you’ll have to live with what your choices have done to you. Every time you look at your reflection—when you see all that beauty withering away, you’ll think of the lives you’ve stolen and all the times you could’ve stopped. But no amount of regret will help you. It’s too late, Michael.”

A pain Michael couldn’t find the words for took hold of him, forcing another strangled cry from his lips. He was sprawled on the floor, muscles tense, tears streaming down the swell of his cheekbones. He felt the magic seeping into him, latching onto his bones, branding itself onto his very soul.

“Enjoy your apocalypse.”

The air went still and silent. Michael sensed the remnants of the magic as it receded and let go of him. There was nothing left except the sound of his ragged breathing. When he pushed himself off the floor onto his elbows, ignoring the deep, lingering ache in his body, Cordelia had disappeared. Her escape, and the warlocks’ covert plan to destroy him, renewed the flicker of rage in his heart.

Michael staggered back into the daylight with a curse sitting in his veins like poison.

***

Tagging my usual list + people I think might enjoy this fic (I hope you don’t mind)! And as always, if you want to be tagged, just let me know!

@lastregasolitaria @mylippo @zeciex @lvngdvns @langdonsdemon @wvntersldr @sojournmichael @gabnelson98 @antichristlangdxn @keavysmithxoxo @batgirlbride @dead-witch-boy @boofy1998 @gentianea @cryptid-coalition @kinlovecody @yuriohoe04 @electricurie @marvel-rpdr-and-ahs @gallxntdean @jcshadowkiss-blog @frozenhuntress67 @sebastianshoe @dixmond-taurus @bookobssesed99 @sassylangdon @queenie435 @holylangdon @angsty-otters-blog @denaexr @mr-langdonn @micheallangdons @lostin-fern @crazedcatcuddler @michaelsapostle @wroteclassicaly @monsucre @ritualmichael @queencocoakimmie @bluelancesredswords @theharvestgirloffire @punkysouls @sevenwondr @prettykitten123 @zoebensvn @kylosbabe @sloppy-little-witch-bitch26 @readsalot73 @americanhorrorstudies @tiny-ruby-seeds @confettucini @xavierplympton @kaetastic @blakewaterxx @duncvns @codyssfern @avesatanormalpeoplescareme @langdonsoceaneyes

#michael langdon x reader #michael langdon x you #michael langdon x fem!reader #michael langdon x oc #michael langdon imagine #michael langdon fanfiction #ahs apocalypse imagine #ahs apocalypse fanfiction #fic: batb au

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hellsforbes · 4 years

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Michael Langdon : modern v.

Age: 30+

Sexuality: Bi/Demisexual

Species: Antichrist / Warlock

Occupation: Varies - he’ll say whats useful at the time but he doesn’t need to work.

Bio: In both modern and canon his beginning and start are the same. He was born from a human mother and a demon for a father, some would argue it was the devil himself. Since he was young death and destruction followed him and flowed through his fingertips. He aged quickly until he reached about 30 and he practically stopped there. He didn’t stay in school once he hit his first growth spurt and almost doubled his age, his grandmother taking care of him since his mother died in childbirth and his father was absent. Since he didn’t stay in school and grew up under the care of his grandmother he lived a very sheltered life. He isn’t really aware on how to interact with others when he’s young and it’s probably for the best because there is a constant fight of good and evil in him. He doesn’t understand it and can’t control it so when he snaps over any fluctuation in his emotions is detrimental to those around him. His grandmother is all he’s ever known, the only care he’s ever received and the only person he thought loved him until she couldn’t handle being responsible for him, calling him out to be a monster and she kills herself to get away from him.

She does so in a house that lets spirits and shots linger and live but she doesn’t let herself be known when Michael finds her body… A ghost comes to Michael though, sensing the war in him and tries to help, tries to raise him – and again Michael seems to have found someone to care for him, love him, be that parental, father figure in his life. His powers and abilities only grow though and the one helping him doesn’t have the knowledge for that, with no sense of control over that aspect he is still a loose cannon and manages to not only kill two more people in the house but obliterate their souls. That is when the only father figure he has ever known also backs away, retreats from him and calls him a monster as well. His violent tendencies are part of his genetic makeup but it’s not something he wants to be – he shows remorse and confusion when he lashes out and ends up hurting the ones he loves – and more just confusion when he hurts people he doesn’t necessarily know but are around him when an outburst hits. A turning point though was his mother trying to kill him and the past rejections from the only family he ever knew end up causing a snap – he gave in to the darkness consuming him.

Ms. Mead is next in line to stumble upon Michael, a Satanist and a firm believer that Michael was created for more. She becomes more of a mother than anyone else ever had in his life, truly caring for him and not just what he could do and what he was capable of. It’s where he finds his identity in being a witch/warlock/Antichrist (depending on verse) He embraces it but Mead isn’t able to help him control or strengthen his powers and she realizes that when a butcher insults her and he loses control for a few seconds and kills the butcher. He’s taken into custody and the stress the cop puts on him in the interview room causes him to act out again, breaking every bone in the cops’ body. One of the head warlocks from Hawthorne School for Exceptional Young Men hear about him, find him and bring him to the school to teach him and train him on control and how to harness his abilities and then some. The warlocks at the school more or less are only interested in him because he could be the first male supreme. Michael realizes this – he’s a pawn but by now he is able to separate powers and emotions so he doesn’t lash out. Instead he plans on becoming the next Supreme and then killing out every coven… (Usually where modern verse starts)

He has to complete the seven wonders test with the current supreme – which he does do, rising up and taking the role only to completely wipe the earth of all witches – Michael isn’t at his full potential though and so this doesn’t go exactly as planned. The previous supreme finding out his plan and putting a few witches in hiding and she also kills Mead once she finds out that she was encouraging him. This is another point where Michael gives in more to the dark powers he possesses. Truly alone in it all at this point but his goal is still to take out the witches and warlocks. Antichrist verse: The first step is to take out witches and warlocks and then ultimately create the apocalypse. This will lead to him becoming head of the cooperative and once that takes place he’s able to harness all his powers and abilities, the outposts come in and he lives on making the decision who will join the new world and who will die.

Michael does not trust people of this world or not - easy, just like he has been used as a pawn or to fulfill some purpose of others – that’s how he sees and uses people as well now. Hawthorne!Michael is slightly more trusting in others in comparison to Outpost!Michael, while he had been used and misunderstood – Mead gave him hope that someone could love him for who he is. What he’s capable of. As time goes on though he becomes more distant to the thought. He also fears hurting anyone he loves so it’s much easier to just not love anyone, to not be misunderstood again and be take for granted and advantage of.

I do write him as more demisexual because of the trauma in relationships and love – I don’t see him getting intimate with someone unless there is an emotional bond, even if it’s unhealthy and toxic – more or less for the other. He will however use his looks, charm, charisma to get what he wants, to swoon others and use them and lead them on. With control being ripped from him a lot in his life I see him being more dominant and taking control back in those ways, but – because he would want/need to have the emotional connection and some trust involved, I wouldn’t say he is submissive but I could see some traits coming out to play with certain relationships and people.

Abilities: Satanic Ritual, Illusion Manipulation, Telekinesis, Transmutation, Telepathy, Divination, The Sight, Descensum, Pyrokinesis, Concilium, Vitalum Vitalis, Power Negation, Stiricidium, Demonic Shape shifting, Enhanced Strength,

#[ michael ]#| sympathy for the devil | Michael #: modern V bio #/I'll probably play with this as i start writing him in modern v. bear with me pls

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duncvns · 5 years

Note

I've noticed you haven't done any head cannons for Jim so can we have some of him taking your virginity?? thanks

yayyy i’ve always wanted to write about jimmy baby but i’ve never had inspo

word and headcanon count- 77 hc’s/ 963 words (how omfg)

warnings- smut, protected sex (lmao is that a warning?), fluff, mentions of smoking, oral (reader receiving)

Jim is such a sweet boy

He’s shy, but he knows what he wants

So, when he sees you that day of school, he makes it a priority to talk to you

He’s charming, capturing your attention as soon as he steps in front of you

“Hi, I’m Jim Mason. Are you new here?”

You stumble over your words a bit. “Y-yeah, I’m Y/N”

“What a pretty name. You should come to sit with me at lunch.”

A couple months pass and a friendship blossomed

He would invite you to go surfing with him and Medina

You wouldn’t go in the water most of the time, complaining the temperature was too cold for your liking

One day Jim finally dragged you into the water

You shared his surfboard, hanging onto him for dear life as he started paddling further out into the water

The bay boys would tease him for having a ‘crush’ on you

You would laugh with them while Jim blushes and looks down at the sand

You became a regular at the Mason house

During the weekends, you’d find yourself at the Mason house, lazing out by the pool with Jim

Medina quickly became one of your closest friends

You quickly found yourself falling for Jim

She was the first person you told about your attraction to her brother

Medina told you to go ahead and tell Jim about your feelings

You didn’t have to, however.

The next day while you were gripping onto Jim’s shoulders as you both were balanced on his surfboard, he blurted out how much he liked you

“Y/N, I like you.”

You sort of giggled, thinking he was talking about how much he liked you as a friend

“I know you like me, silly. We’re best friends,”

“No.” He shook his head, looking over his shoulder at you. “I like, like you. As in, I want to be with you.”

A tiny smile crept onto your face as you took in the information.

“I… like you too, Jim.” You kissed his wetsuit-clad shoulder before resting your head on it.

A long-lasting friendship bloomed into a committed relationship

And, before you knew it, the time came for sex

You and Jim were in his room, a cigarette balanced between his lips

He slowly crawled on the bed next to you, wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you into him.

Jim gently and slowly kissed down the back of your neck and past your shoulder, sending shivers down your spine

Sex has been something you’ve never talked about. You only told Jim that you were a virgin, and he didn’t mind at all

“I’m ready, Jim.”

“Are you sure, Y/N? I don’t want to rush you into anything.”

“You aren’t rushing me. I want you to take my virginity. Right now.”

“Of course.”

He hopped off of the bed quickly, moving to the door to lock it and then reaching into his bedside door to retrieve a condom

He climbed back on top of you, reaching to fling off his jean jacket and the white t-shirt covering his chest

You ran your hand over his chest, the smooth skin hot under your fingertips

He slowly reached under your shirt, peeling it off of your stomach before pulling it over your head.

“You’re always so beautiful, babe.” He muttered, leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses down your abdomen

Your fingers curl in his hair as his lips near your pelvis.

His fingers slip under the waistband of the leggings you were wearing before pulling them off of your hips slowly

Kisses were peppered over the exposed skin and over the lace adorning you.

You were already wet, aching for him.

He shoved his loose jeans off of his legs before leaning back down in between your legs

He gently pulled at the panties, peeling them off of your sensitive skin slowly.

Your face reddened as he chucked them across the room.

His warm breath fanned over your aching cunt as he gently parted your thighs.

“Is this okay?”

You nodded quickly, keeping your eyes on him.

He nosed at your dripping wet heat, inhaling your sweet scent.

His tongue slowly explored your virgin cunt, leaving extra attention on your clit

Tiny sounds left your throat as you bucked up onto his tongue instinctually

His tongue dipped into your dripping entrance slightly, causing you to squeak out in surprise

After a few more flicks of his tongue, he slowly sat up, his full lips glistening with your wetness

He kissed you softly, gently combing his fingers through your hair

Jim sat back on the bed and fumbled with the button on his jeans before pulling them down and off of his hips.

He grabbed the foil packet off of the bed sheets before rolling the condom on his hard dick

You watched with hooded eyes, a slow smile on your lips.

He climbed on top of you once more, lining his latex-covered cock up with your dripping heat

His lips were busy kissing your lips, cheeks, forehead, and jaw as he pushed in slowly.

A slow hiss and whine broke from your throat as you stretched around him, accommodating for his size

“Does it hurt?” He mumbled against your lips.

You shook your head quickly. “No, keep going,”

He continued until he was seated comfortably inside of you

He groaned lowly as your tight warmth engulfed him fully

“You can move,” You whispered against his lips.

He pulled out slightly before bottoming out slowly inside of you

Your nails leave dull scratches down his back as he gains a steady rhythm to fuck you at

It doesn’t take you much time to reach your high and soon your convulsing under Jim’s body, cumming around his cock

He rides you through your orgasm before he releases into his rubber, collapsing down on top of you

Your breathing evens out before Jim slowly rolls off of you and back onto the bed

He slowly pulls you into his chest, kissing the top of your head lightly

“I love you, Y/N.”

tags- @icylangdon @langdonsrapture @lvngdvns @wroteclassicaly @ccodyfern @michael-langdon-appreciation @langdonsdemon @ritualmichael @queencocoakimmie @avesatanormalpeoplescareme @katiekitty261 @sojournmichael @langdonsoceaneyes @jimmlangdon @langdonsfallen @xlangdons-evilbabygirlx @1-800-bitchcraft @ladynuwanda @bbyduncan @gypsylilacs @langdonsboots @babydollcake

#asks #anon #requests #Jim Mason #jim mason x reader #jim mason smut

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langdonsfallen · 6 years

Text

Michael x Reader with an ED [Head Cannon]

*Trigger warning: Eating disorder, calorie counting, fasting etc..*

- Michael usually supports you in all your life choices, except your ed

- he's so protective of you that he constantly is watching over you, checking that you're eating properly

- you toy with food and pushing it around your plate trying to spread it out so it looks like you've eaten something. "Y/n why aren't you eating? I know exactly what you're doing"

- you try and compromise with him: "Michael please, I promise, just another 15lbs less and then I'll get back to eating properly!".. "No, y/n because that's always the case, it's always another 10/15lbs!"

- "y/n I don't care if you're 100lbs or 200lbs, I just want to see my baby girl healthy"

- one time while you're fasting, you stand up too quickly and pass out. He's there to catch you.

- he gets desperate and uses concillium to control you into eating a meal

- when the spell breaks you're furious. "Don't EVER use magic on me like that again"

- it breaks his heart to watch you looking in the mirror, measuring every part of your body, wishing for the numbers to be lower

- one day he reaches his wits end. "I can't fucking do this anymore y/n! How many times must we fight over this? You're going to kill yourself!" He storms out of the room.

- you don't know it but he needed to leave the room to break down in tears. He didn't want you to see him so upset. He sobbed in one room, and you in the next.

- when he returns, he silently takes you into his arms, cheeks still wet. As you cuddle in bed he gently strokes your hair while muttering all the things he loves about your body that you can't see yourself

Tag list: @hxdesworld @avesatanormalpeoplescareme @langdonsdemon @xinyourdreamsx @langdonscurls @readsalot73 @xlangdons-evilbabygirlx @deadohiosky @michael-langdon-appreciation @yourkingcodyfern

#ahs apocalypse #american horror story #michael langdon #ahs imagine #ahs langdon #ahs smut #american horror story apocalypse #michael langdon one shot #michael langdon smut #michael langdon x reader #michael langdon headers #ahs headcanons #michael langdon headcanon #ed #eating disoder tw #anorexia tw

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novelist-nerd-blog · 6 years

Text

Masterlist

Imagines:

Michael Langdon

Take a Break

Sanctuary

Head Cannons:

Kyle Spencer (Pre-death)

Window

#Masterlist #michael langdon #ahs #american horror story

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taehyungsgrowl · 5 years

Note

could you write what you think is a "real" head cannon of Michael Langdon's personality and his sex life? I honestly think he doesn't have sex and thinks most people are disgusting and that is one reason he wanted everyone dead. Like we all think he's this kinky dude, but really he want everyone dead.

OH! I know after AHS first aired, there was a bit of debate over Michael’s sexuality. Some fans see Michael as bisexual, some think he’s straight, and I even remember a few people argue that Michael is asexual.

Personally, I see Michael, especially Older!Michael, to be a very sexual being. Just the way he carried himself was so sensual.

HOWEVER

I can see your perspective. With the way he rejected Gallant - looking down on his as less than, in a way, I could see him being repulsed by having sex.

#michael langdon #Anonymous

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obscure-imagines · 6 years

Photo

-meeting him before the apocalypse

-back when he was a soft boi

-lets just say you’re a witch and you kind of act like an in between for the warlocks and witches

-so when the warlocks find Michael they call you to come meet him

-meeting him for the first time and he’s just so attractive

-you show him around and you end up talking for hours

-somehow ending up outside looking at the stars

-your first kiss starts of sweet but ends kinda rough and thats when you realize this boi has a dark side

-he’d take while to trust you and once he does he tells you his entire plan to take over as supreme

-you’d totally have to be a secret couple

-the witches would not be happy about you dating ‘the enemy’ seeing as Michael is trying to overthrow Cordelia

-both of you sneaking out to see each other

-stolen kisses in dark hallways

-once he learns how to do transmutation he just zaps into your room

-i just think like meaningful conversation would mean a lot to Michael

-so lots of cuddling and talking

-but now lets get into the rough stuff, i know why you’re all here and i got you fam

-he likes pinning you down with his body

-he’s an absolute tease, he loves making you beg

-choking is totally a thing

-yeah he a dom anti-christ thats for sure

-marks are definitely a thing

-but its still secret which makes it more exciting

-tangling your fingers in his curls because yes

-please make this boi a flower crown

-then the apocalypse happens

-Michael would have totally seen it coming

-but so did Cordelia and she wipes your memory just like Coco and Mallory.

-there’s so much going on that Michael has to really stop himself from going and getting you right away because he knows the witches would try to use you against him

-when he finally shows up at the compound he restores your memory

-and its just like immediate power couple

-he’s the most adoring boyfriend every

-like i feel like he’d want to be with you 24/7

-especially with how dangerous the world is

-since you’re his ‘weakness’ he protects the shit out of you

-you can protect yourself but he likes showing how powerful he is

-he sees you often for ‘interviews’ but everyone knows whats really going on

-ooooh i feel like he’s a biter

-like got make outs and his hand is on your neck and he just bites slightly on your lip then pulls back

-that grin

-he is honestly just beautiful

-so like... you either like the hair or you dont... you know what i mean?

-he’s formal in front of others but he likes to call you Baby or Kitten

-calling him Babe or sir or daddy

-wearing his cape

-like... just his cape

-i dunno he has really good fashion and it would be fun trying on some of his stuff

-he likes to rest with his head on your lap as you brush through his hair with your fingers

-he either lets you curl up against him to cuddle or he’s the big spoon but on very rare occasions he’ll be the little spoon

-he likes intertwining his fingers with yours

-he’s that person that just looks at you so intently, like he really looks at you

-he gets very concerned for you when you’re upset and he’ll do anything to make you feel better

-probably showering together after he does rituals and you make sure he’s okay and all the blood gets washed off

-honestly just so much time in bed. i’ve mentioned it already but like seriously

-others have to treat you with respect

-or else

-he gives you one of his rings and it would be really big on you

-he just likes to drag his fingers across your skin

-he just loves touching you

-pressing you against the wall

-like i said, pinning you down or like against things, keeping your hands restricted while he teases

-how have i not yet mentioned dirty talk?! like this boy has the dirtiest mouth

-”you like that kitten? hmm? i dont think i heard you. better speak louder Kitten or i might not let you have your reward.”

-taking his rings off for sex cuz lets be serious, his finger game is strong

-fingers... in your mouth... because... like.... yes

-imagine him just growling, like deep rumbling in his chest, damn boi

-hand kink to the max yo

-he likes brushing your hair out of your face

-he’s the guy that just cups your face and lets you nuzzle into your hand because soft boi still present

-he is a toll boi so yes please

-also just how perfect is the view in that gif. i mean... like. i dont even have to say it, we’re all thinking the same thing *wink wonk* (its a blow job we all know it)

-maybe just like slow dancing together alone in your room because thats cute

-he would definitely tease you for your purple outfits because they’re mainly kind of old fashioned with lots of lace and bows

-he takes his sweet ass time undoing your corset

-well shit. this keeps going back to sexual shit because this boi is just such a snack. i am so sorry.

******* gif credit @mhysaofdragons thank you to this gif maker for giving me permission to use their gifs! im addicted to the new American Horror Story season and im so glad that gif makers like the one who runs this blog is in the same state i am haha <3

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