#Cody Fern x reader

[auroracalisto]

oh god, i want to feel again

xavier plympton x reader, 3.3k words summary: the reader is the one of the two survivors from their little friend group along with brooke. all alone with a set of friends who are only around her for "status," she finds herself back at camp redwood. a/n: a complete rewrite of this fic from 2021. the fandom may be dead but I adored this fic when I initially wrote it. it deserves 23-year-old aurora's edits. some elements are the same but... it's clear that I have either grown as a writer or something has happened to the original writer within me (perhaps too many bouts of bridgerton and romance-esque things but let's not get into that) tw: death, mentions of dead bodies, suicidal thoughts, implied depression and anxiety, mentions of god and jesus christ but like not positively used (ones in an instance of finding a dead body YAY).

For someone who claimed they were terrified of the very place your old friend group died, you sure as hell didn't seem like it. At least, not on the outside. Brooke would have been trembling on the spot, but not you. No, you felt almost... well, not terrified, but worried.

You should have never let them talk you into coming back to Camp Redwood. How utterly foolish. Things always went wrong in this godforsaken camp, and it was nothing new to you. You knew it. Just the essence of the forest around it sent shivers down your spine.

And yet, here you were. The three you stood near fawned over the scenery. It was beautiful, yes, and it was just as beautiful as it had been when you had last been there. It hadn't changed a bit. But there was something gnawing inside of you. This place made you more nervous than you would like to admit.

Just thinking about it—about everything that had happened. It made you want to cry.

But the trio you had become a fourth wheel for said that they would be quick. They just wanted to take a look around, maybe check out the cabins.

You knew better. Coming back to Camp Redwood would lead to disaster. Coming back to the damned place was a death wish—and your past self, the one from just a few years ago, even, would have hit you for being so stupid to come back.

There was something about the camp that drew you in. As if there was something within your soul that knew it needed to be there. How foolish.

It had only taken an hour for your "friends" to leave your side, but you weren't surprised. They had never been truly good friends. In fact, the closest one to you, Nellie, had said that the other two were only friends with you for publicity. Sheryl and Junie didn't really care about you other than for some popularity points in LA's scene.

Being the only other survivor besides Brooke, you were like a little legend in your town.

It hadn't been Brooke. But it was your word against everything.

God, you missed her. She had been a good friend for the short time you knew her. All of your friends had been, in one way or another.

Chet knew how to get you fired up when it mattered most. Ray was earnest and always lended a helping hand. Montana knew exactly how to dress for any kind of scenario, and all of the little beauty tips she had given you made you feel like she truly cared about you. And Xavier. Oh, God, did you miss Xavier.

There wasn't a day that went by that you didn't think of the blonde jazzercise instructor.

It hurt your heart to know that he was gone. Forever. There was no coming back from what took him so long ago. And for what? For your "friends" to get excited over? For the crime fanatics to fantasize over? It was despicable. Deplorable, even.

On your way up to the camp, despite the urge within you to make them drop you off and you'd just walk home, you heard Sheryl talk about the Night Stalker. How handsome and ridiculously attractive he was. How she would let him have her in whatever way possible.

It made you sick to even think about it. Perhaps you should have made them drop you off and pick you up later. It would have been so much easier that way.

Maybe then you wouldn't have felt so sick to your stomach.

But here you were. It was 1987—three years after the massacre of your friends, and three years after you barely made it out alive. Half-alive, anyway. You were barely living, just going through the motions of what it meant to eat, breathe, and sleep. Even then you hardly did well at it.

You found yourself sitting on the edge of that oh-so-familiar dock, staring out at the lake. The water was dark and murky—not how you remembered. It had been so beautiful before, but perhaps that was how the world worked. As the years grew long and the soil grew spoiled, things changed. It had been quite some time since you last looked out to the water.

What else happened here?

You took in a deep breath, squeezing your eyes shut.

You just wanted to leave. That was the first thing that came to mind. The second was, What the actual fuck was that?

Something brushed against your foot.

Your heart leapt to your throat and you quickly scrambled to your feet, suppressing a scream. You looked down at the water and saw a bloated body. A human body.

"Oh, Jesus Christ," left your chapped lips. The body had obviously been in the water for some time.

You took a couple steps back, your hands gripping at the edge of your shirt as you tried to ground yourself.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," you breathed out, burying your face in your hands for just a moment.

As you looked up, you saw it—a flash of two blonde heads in the corner of your eye, standing by one of the decaying cabins.

The girls weren't blonde. Nellie was a brunette, Sheryl had unnaturally red hair that she claimed was natural, and Junie's hair was black.

You blinked slowly and almost thought, for just a moment, that perhaps you had truly lost it. Perhaps you were truly crazy and the fumes of the decaying body were getting to you—but then, you saw it.

That outfit.

The blues and whites and that signature coat.

Were you dreaming?

You didn't know. Even so, you found your feet moving before you could even think to stop them. In a matter of seconds, you were running. Through the mud, through the roots that sprung up from the cold ground. You nearly tripped a time or two as the cold air burned your lungs. You ran through the tree limbs that continued to snag your shirt and skin. However, you didn't stop. You didn't care. If that was who you thought it was, it didn't matter if you hurt yourself or scratched up your outfit.

It was okay.

It would be worth it.

You reached the area you had thought you saw him—the girls' cabin. It had to have been. That's where you had hung out during the short time you were at the camp.

The sight of the log building made you sick to your stomach. This whole thing made you sick.

If only you had listened to your gut feeling and passed up on the invite, then you wouldn't be standing here, questioning your sanity.

This was stupid. This was freakish, and your therapist would give you an earful when you returned to your sessions. You knew it.

But then, you heard a voice.

"Y/n?"

You didn't move for a moment, just registering the voice. It wasn't just any voice—it was Xavier's voice.

He's dead. It's not him. You're going insane, you thought, but you spun around anyway. Your eyes were wide.

You saw him standing there, all alone. He gave you an incredulous look before he rushed forward, his arms wrapping tightly around you. One of his hands rested on the back of your head as he buried his face in the crook of your neck, breathing in the scent of you—one he hadn't had for some time.

"What—what is—" you breathed out, your arms quickly wrapping around his body. "What the hell? You're dead," you said, tears forming in your eyes almost immediately. You buried your face in his chest. He's dead. He has to be. But he feels so very real, and it confuses you to no avail. "Xavier, you're supposed to be dead. Why are you here?"

Xavier chuckled softly, his hand gently brushing some of your hair away from your face so he could get a good look at you.

"You're smart, Y/n," he softly said. "Tell me why I'm still here."

"Ghost?" was the only thing you said.

He smiled at you. "God, I never thought I'd see you again. Why are you here?"

"My... my friends—"

You were interrupted, a scream erupting through the trees. Birds flew into the blue sky, spooked by the shrill noise.

You slightly pulled back, hands gripping onto Xavier. You didn't want to let go of him.

"My friends brought me here," you said, looking over your shoulder.

Xavier rose an eyebrow.

"What's going on?" you asked, looking up at him once more. You paid no mind to the scream—a part of you didn't care what happened, as awful as that sounded. The other part of you ached to go and help them, but you couldn't. Xavier was standing in front of you.

He was here. You couldn't let that go.

"What do you mean?" he asked, a playful smile on his lips.

"How are you—how are you here? You're a ghost, sure, but..."

He continued to smile, watching you with an unreadable expression. "Yes."

"That's... that doesn't help me," you huffed, noticing a smear of blood on his cheek. You reached forward, your thumb rubbing it off. You frowned up at him. "How the hell are you still here?"

"I don't know," he finally admitted. "None of us know. We're all here. Well... save for you and Brooke."

You blinked, furrowing your eyebrows. "You... what? You're all still here?"

The question chokes you up, and your tears are instant. "Xavier, I—I never thought I'd see you again. and you're��everyone is still here? Really?"

"You're taking this pretty well," Xavier said, snorting softly. He leaned forward, unable to keep his lips off of your skin. He presses a soft kiss to your lips. He'd missed you dearly, if you'd bother to ask.

"I watched all of you die," you breathed out. "I thought you were all gone. But you—you're not gone. You're still here."

Xavier watched you with his pretty blue eyes. "I really never expected to see you again," he said, giving you another tight hug. "Why did you come with them?"

"Um," you said, frowning a bit. "Closure?" You posed your answer as a question. "A chance to... to come to peace with what happened?"

"You sure as hell aren't getting that," he said, letting out a laugh. His lips found their way to your forehead.

You let your eyes shut. "It's only been three years, X," you said. "I've lived... three hell-filled years without you guys. I miss you so much."

You swallowed thickly, completely pulling away from him. You shakily wiped your tears away. "I... Brooke was sentenced. They are convinced she did it. Said there was plenty of evidence pointing to her, but I—I was there too. I don't understand why I didn't—why they didn't blame me," you rambled.

Xavier pursed his lips and he gently took your hands into his. "It's okay. It's not your fault. You know how the justice system is," he said, snorting softly. "It's not like it's a diamond in the rough. It's tough out there."

Your bottom lip quivered as you looked up at him. "Xavier..."

He smiled softly at you. He pressed a soft kiss to your knuckles.

"I... I missed you. I miss you. I miss you guys so much, Xavier. You have no idea."

"Do you think that's why you came?" he asked, looking down at you. "To... be closer?"

Your eyes widened a bit. You hadn't thought of it like that. But maybe, subconsciously, that's what was happening. Your mind knew that it was a way to be closer to your friends. You never expected that you would literally get closer to them, in every way possible.

"You make a good point," you said, sniffling softly.

Xavier grinned, leaning forward to cup your cheeks. "You look hot for a twenty-six-year-old," he said.

You slapped his hand away, and warmth flooded to your cheeks. "It's been three years, not a fucking decade!"

His smile only grew. "You do, though."

You rubbed your nose with the back of your hand, sniffling softly. "You... Xav, it's only been three years," you repeated. "I never thought I'd see you again. I can't believe you're here. I... it's so hard to live without you. I never imagined I'd have to do it."

His smile vanished, replaced with a frown. He leaned forward and kissed your forehead again. You closed your eyes as his lips lingered.

"I know," he said. "But you can't stay here. There's nothing here that would support someone who's alive. You need to go back home, get back to your life."

A snort escaped you. "I don't have a life," you said. "I work. I go home. I sometimes have therapy which doesn't fucking work. I try to ignore the people who brought me here but they leave so many messages on my answering machine sometimes that I want to actually—"

A voice interrupts you, and it's obvious that the speaker is relieved.

"Oh, thank god. They're not your friends?"

Your eyes widened and you quickly spun around, seeing the blood-covered Montana. You could hardly breathe as you let go of Xavier, rushing over to the woman. You wrapped your arms around Montana as tightly as you possibly could.

"Oh my god," you breathed, tears forming in your eyes once more. You silently cursed yourself for the constant waterworks, but the camp seemed to just... draw it out of you. This entire situation was nuts.

"Uh, definitely not God," Montana laughed, hugging you back. "God, Y/n, why the hell are you here? You look hot."

"Hey, back off!" Xavier scoffed. "I already told her that."

Montana just smiled, pulling back. Your clothes were now bloody, but you didn't even look. You shakily wiped your tears away.

"I just... I can't believe you are actually here. Are you sure I'm not crazy? Am I dreaming? Pinch me," you said, holding your arm out to Montana.

She snorted and pinched you, hard. It left a mark.

Xavier smiled and reached forward, grabbing your bicep. "We're here, Y/n. No dreaming for you."

You lost track of time.

When you finally looked out of the dusty cabin window, the moon was peaked high in the sky.

With a slow blink, you looked over at your friends, not really knowing what to say. You didn't want to leave them, again. You couldn't. Not when you now know that they've been here this whole time while you've been grieving their deaths. Not when Xavier has been here.

You reached forward and took Xavier's hand, dragging him out of his conversation with Chet. Chet didn't seem too mad about it, though, and he just grinned at you before going to talk to Ray.

"Can we talk? Outside?"

Xavier smiled at you and simply nodded. He stood up and pulled you to your feet, leading you outside of the cabin. You stood on the edge of the cabin steps. Xavier leaned against the railing and you slowly sat down on the steps.

"Xavier... I can't... leave. I can't leave you guys. Not again."

"What?"

"I've got nothing out there for me, Xavier. I can't leave—"

"—absolutely not. I know what you want. You're not doing that. No way in hell. You're the only one of us who survived, and you need to keep on living, Y/n."

"I only survived because you guys all died before I escaped," you said, your bottom lip quivering. "Final girl trope my ass. Xavier, I can't function without you guys. I can't—I can't do anything without thinking about all of you."

"You will, eventually," Xavier said, sending you a soft smile. He leaned forward and took your hands in his again. "You're strong. You'll be able to."

"When, X?" you questioned. "When I've reached my eightieth birthday?"

He snickered softly and kissed your cheek. "That's bullshit and you know it. You'll be okay. You need to go home, Y/n. You know that we're here. You can visit any time you want to. Stay alive, for me."

"But I—I'll continue to age," you said. "And you'll stay here, exactly the same."

Xavier grinned. "Well, you continue to age for the fuckers who can't. Get a pretty spouse. Make some pretty babies. Come and see us when you have the time."

He was trying to talk you out of it. He didn't want you dead. Hell, if you had died when everything first happened, it would be different. But you were alive. You had so much to live for. He had protected you until his last breath, and he would do it again if he could. Even if it meant sending you away, no matter how much he would have rather had you there.

"I'll continue to age, X. But I'm not ever gonna marry. And I won't ever have kids. Don't lie to yourself."

"Why not?" Xavier asked, raising an eyebrow as he watched you.

"Because the one person I wanted that with is here. Not aging. Dead. A ghost. For fucks sake, Xavier."

He stopped for just a moment, letting go of your hands. "What?" he asked, tilting his head. "Who?"

"What?" you repeated. "You, Xavier," you said. "I didn't want to come back here because I was afraid I'd find your things. Your jacket. Your—your clothes you left in your duffle bag. I didn't want to come back and see the things that you had. I didn't expect—I didn't expect your whole damn ghost. I don't—I don't want to age. I don't want to go and get married and have pretty babies. I wanted to marry you," you said, choking back a sob. "I wanted to date you more. I wanted to fall in love with you even more than I already loved you. You dying made me realize that I would never have that. That I would never love anyone as much as I loved you, Xavier. As much as I still love you."

Xavier didn't say a word, watching you intently.

"I've mourned you every damn day. I—I've wondered, why in the hell did this happen? Why couldn't I have just died with you? And I nearly did it. Several times, Xavier. I would have done it again. After today. If I came here and saw that you... you still had things here. If I saw something that seemed like you or your blood or that damned oven, I—I would have done it."

Xavier quickly took your hands again. "Stop it. Stop talking like that."

"And see? You can't even say it! I've loved—I've mourned you for so long," you said, letting out a soft sob. "You've stared a tee this whole time and said noth—"

You were cut off by cold lips pressing against yours. But just as soon as you had been interrupted, you started kissing him back. You were still crying, tears threatening to spill down your cheeks—all of your pent-up exhaustion and rage releasing with your tears.

Xavier slightly pulled back and let his head press against yours. "I love you, too, Y/n. More than anything."

You squeezed your eyes shut. Xavier leaned forward and wiped your falling tears away.

"The... the only way you can stay here is if... if you die."

You took in a deep breath, looking up at him. You locked eyes with his, not wanting to look away. "I'll do anything I have to. I just can't leave you. Not again. I won't do it."

Xavier sadly smiled, and the ghost felt his own tears begin to form. "Alright, then," he softly said. "I won't stop you." He pressed a soft kiss to your knuckles. He was getting what he wanted, even it it felt pretty bittersweet. "How do you... how do you wanna go, baby? It's your choice."

You thought for just a moment. You had thought this out many times before. You looked up at him, and your answer fell from your lips.

"I..."

[storiesforallfandoms]

late night sins ~ xavier plympton;ahs 1984

word count: 5360 (the longest fic i’ve ever written!!)

request?: yes!

“Can you do a xavier plympton smut/ fluff where theres an poc reader and basically they meet at camp redwood and xavier basically flirts with the reader alot an the readers a virgin and she has like this gold cross pendant soo his friends kinda pick with the reader about her being the only virgin out of the group, and basically xavier sneaks in the girl cabin on a late night while everyone is sleeping wakes up the poc reader and takes her virginity under the covers but she has to be quiet to not alert the other camp counselors in the female cabin…”

description: in which the good christian girl decides to delve into sin after she meets her fellow hot camp counsellor

pairing: xavier plympton x poc!female!reader

warnings: swearing, smut (oral; f receiving, unprotected p in v, pull out method is used but fr wrap it before you tap it kids)

masterlist (one, two, three)

The minute she stepped out of her car, she knew she was going to stick out like a sore thumb. She could see the other camp counsellors gathered around by the entrance. They were all wearing skintight, revealing clothes. One girl with messy blonde hair was passing a joint to one of the boys stood next to her. An older looking man was stood with them wearing pants so tight she could make out the outline of his...downstairs area.

The gold cross hung around her neck felt like it was burning into her skin.

She swallowed her fear and forced herself towards the others. The crunching of dirt under her tennis shoes felt like a thundering stomp as the attention was pulled towards her. The blonde looked her up and down as she blew smoke from the corner of her mouth. “Who invited the Virgin Mary?”

Two of her friends snickered while the other two - a black haired girl and a tall boy with sandy blonde hair - shuffled awkwardly at the joke. Well, the girl was awkward. The boy was silent, but he was looking at her with a look in his eye she couldn’t quite place.

“I’m, um, (Y/N),” she said, ignoring the hurtful comment. “I’m a counsellor this summer, too.”

“I guess Margaret needed someone to try and keep her goodie two shows rules in place,” the blonde said. “I’m Montana. This is Brooke, Trevor, Chet, Ray, and Xavier.”

“It’s n-nice to m-meet you,” (Y/N) said.

Trevor, the man with the tight pants and a big bulge, chuckled. “Well, isn’t she adorable. Where did Margaret find you?”

“Leave her alone,” Brooke said. “It’s nice to meet you too, (Y/N). Here, let me take you to Margaret. She’ll be able to get you acquainted here.”

Xavier watched as Brooke guided (Y/N) towards Margaret's office. Unlike the other girls, including good girl Brooke, she was completely covered in baggy clothes despite the intense heat of the summer. Which, he knew he shouldn’t have found attractive, but he did. He was so taken by her after such a short interaction.

Montana elbowed Xavier to snap him out of his train of thought. “Do not tell me you’re eyeing up the Bible humper.”

“Fuck off. I think she’s cute,” Xavier retorted, taking the joint from Ray.

“Never gonna happen, man,” Ray told him. “You’ll be lucky if you see her ankles this summer.”

“Or maybe not,” Chet added. “Most of those Christian girls are freaks. She’ll be on her knees by nightfall I’d say.”

Xavier threw the lit joint at Chet. The four remaining counsellors made noises of disapproval as the joint fizzled out on the ground. Xavier ignored them as he walked away. He wasn’t sure where he was going, but he needed to get away from his shitty friends. Sure, at one point Xavier would’ve been laughing along with them at the Christian girl’s expensive, but this Christian girl was different. To him she was, anyways.

He found himself headed towards the counsellor’s quarters, which happened to be on the way past Margaret’s office. He glanced over towards the open door as he passed and noticed (Y/N) stood with Margaret. As if feeling his gaze, (Y/N) looked over and locked eyes with him. He smiled at her, hoping it looked as friendly as he meant it to. She smiled back, shyly, and quickly looked away.

That was all he needed to be wrapped around her fingers.

~~~~~~

That night, all the counsellors were gathered in the female counsellor’s cabin. It was majorly against Margaret’s rules, but that’s why they were doing it. If they were going to be forced into being Margaret’s anti-fun police for the summer, they wanted to have one last night of debauchery. That included weed, alcohol, and, if they could get away with it, sex.

When (Y/N) walked through the door, they were already well into their night of fun. Everyone turned to look at her as she took in the scene with wide eyes. She was coming from the showers, as evident by her dripping wet hair clinging to her neck and shoulders. She was dressed in a pair of shorts and a white tank top that was so thin that it was easy to make out the outline of her brown breasts against the white fabric. Xavier had to shuffle a pillow over his growing boner.

“The Virgin Mary shows skin,” Montana commented. “How scandalous.”

“What are you guys doing?” she asked.

“We’re trying to have some fun,” Montana responded. “Which won’t happen if your goodie two shoes ass goes to tell Margaret on us.”

“I won’t tell.” All eyes followed her towards her bed, the one that Xavier was sat on. She put her dirty clothes into the bag and sat next to him. “Pass me a beer.”

Her request shocked everyone. Ray grabbed a bottle from the cooler and passed it to (Y/N). “You drink beer?”

“Well...no. But I’ve drank the wine at church, so I figure that’s the same thing.”

“There’s wine in church?” Trevor asked.

(Y/N) nodded. “Communal wine. It’s supposed to be the blood of Christ.”

“You Bible humpers drink blood?” Ray asked. “You guys really are freaks!”

“No, it’s not - ” Xavier cut her off by putting a hand on her arm and shaking his head.

She sighed and opened the beer bottle. Her heart was hammering against her chest. What would her parents think if they found out she was drinking at camp? What would her pastor say? They had all been convinced that the camp was going to be a place of sin and tried to convince her not to go.

But she had spent her entire life being a good Christian girl. She followed everything her parents and priests had told her from the day she was born. This was the first time she had ever made a decision for herself. She was a young adult now. If she wanted to drink, then she could drink.

There’s always the option to pray for forgiveness once the summer ends, she reminded herself.

She brought the bottle to her lips and took a big mouthful. When she swallowed the thick liquid, she cringed and began to gag. Her fellow counsellors laughed at her reaction.

“Definitely not like wine,” she croaked.

“Here.” Brooke passed her some water. “I’ll make the beer go down easier, and it’ll wipe the taste from your mouth.”

(Y/N) accepted the water gratefully and took a sip.

The small mouthfuls of beer started working very quickly on her. By the time she had finished her first bottle of beer, (Y/N) was already feeling warm and fuzzy. She felt her body lull to the side against Xavier, who welcomed her with an arm around her shoulder, adding his bodily warmth to hers.

“Hey now, Virgin Mary, leave room for Jesus there,” Montana mocked.

“Shut the fuck up, Montana,” she retorted.

The curse was new on her tongue, but it tasted delicious as it spilled from her lips. Everyone seemed shocked and impressed by her choice of words, and she was shocked herself, but she was starting to like the feeling she was getting. Not just from the beer, but also from throwing caution to the wind and doing what most people her age did. Sure, she would likely feel some sort of guilt over the coming days about this night, but for now she felt like she was floating on cloud nine.

“You’ve never done anything like this before, have you?” Brooke asked her. “The drinking and cursing, I mean.”

(Y/N) shook her head. “Never. My parents say cursing sounds unladylike, and binge drinking is kind of viewed as a sin, especially when you’re underaged.”

“Religion sounds boring,” Chet said.

“It is,” (Y/N) admitted, shocked by the fact that she really did believe that. Her whole life she had been a devout Christian, never once questioning her faith, but no one could deny how strict her Christian parents were, or how intolerant some of her devout family members and neighbors were. She had never been around people like the other counsellors before. She never knew what kind of life she could possibly have outside of her religion.

“Are you even allowed to have boyfriends?” Montana asked. “Is that a sin, too?”

“Having a boyfriend isn’t a sin, but it is awkward to try and have any form of PDA in front of parents or other adults,” (Y/N) said. “Even holding hands is awkward.”

“So have you ever been kissed?” Brooke asked.

(Y/N) nodded. “Yeah, a couple times. It was very awkward, but so are most first kisses.”

“Have you ever had sex?” Montana asked. Suddenly, (Y/N) became shy again, which caused Montana to grin wickedly. “You haven’t, have you? You’re still a virgin!”

(Y/N) shrunk back against Xavier, who held her protectively towards him. “Knock it off, Montana.”

“What? I’m just stating a fact, and the fact is she’s a virgin. Poor thing will probably never know how good it feels to have a big dick all up inside of her.”

(Y/N)’s thighs clenched together at Montana’s words. Of course she had thought about sex before. She was in her early 20s, she had gone through the crazy hormonal stages of puberty where sex was the one thing on every teenager’s mind. But she never got to explore those urges. She had been taught her entire life that sex before marriage was the ultimate sin, and that if she tried to...relieve herself, so to speak, that she would also be condemned to Hell. But, boy, did she ever think of how badly she wanted someone to finally deflower her, if not just to make the sinful thoughts go away.

Her squirming definitely did not go unnoticed by Xavier, but he didn’t bring any attention to it. The last thing he wanted was for Montana to have more reasons to mock (Y/N).

“I wanna have sex,” she said in a soft voice. “But I want to be sure of it. I want it to be with someone I’m sure of.”

Xavier wasn’t sure if he imagined it or not, but he could’ve swore he saw her eyes flicker towards him when she said the last part.

No, there’s no way, he thought. We’ve barely had a conversation together, stop thinking so highly of yourself.

But...but what if she did?

He glanced down at her again, but her attention was drawn to whatever one of the others were saying.

Maybe I could figure this out later on tonight when everyone is gone, he thought, and the idea made him smirk to himself.

~~~~~~

The male counsellors went back to their own cabin once the night had come to an end. Xavier laid in his bed, starring at the ceiling as he waited to make sure everyone was asleep. Once the cabin was filled with soft breathing and snoring, he quickly got up and pulled on his shoes. He opened the rickety door as silently as he could, stopping to cringe when it let out a squeak anyways. When none of the others stirred, he continued on his mission.

All the girls were also sound asleep. Their cabin was nearly pitch black, with just some rays of white light shining in from the full moon.

(Y/N) was laying on her side, her hands tucked under her face as she breathed softly. Xavier couldn’t help but smile at her as he made his way towards her bed. She looked so beautiful and peaceful. Like an angel, for a lack of better words.

He knelt down next to her bed and lightly shook her. She stirred slightly, but didn’t wake up. Xavier looked over his shoulder to make sure that Brooke and Montana were definitely asleep before shaking (Y/N) a little harder. She mumbled something incoherent before her eyes slowly blinked open. When she looked at Xavier, she let out a gasp and he quickly covered her mouth to stop her from making any other noises.

“Shh!” he said. “It’s just me.”

“What are you doing here?!” she whispered. “If you get caught you’ll be in big trouble!”

“No one is going to catch me. Margaret has been dead asleep since before we had our little party,” Xavier said, a cocky grin on his face. “I wanted to ask you something.”

“It couldn’t wait until morning?”

“No, because my response to the answer might need the cover of nightfall.” She looked at him in confusion, so he continued, “Earlier, when you were talking about losing your virginity to someone you’re sure of, did you look at me?”

She stared at him blankly. “What?”

“You heard me.”

“Xavier, this can wait until morning.”

She went to roll over with her back to him, but he quickly took hold of her arms and stopped her from moving.

“I’m serious, (Y/N), I need to know,” he said. “Because if you genuinely meant that, I might have to take you up on that offer.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Yes, I do.”

“Why? So you can brag to the others about taking the Christian girl’s virginity? I don’t think so.”

He pulled away from her, hurt by her accusation, but then realized that it was a very valid point. They barley knew each other and here he was, coming to her in the middle of the night because he thought she had inferred wanting to sleep with him. Even if he didn’t have the ill intentions that she thought he did, he clearly did not have any pure ones either.

“It’s not that at all,” he said. “I swear to you, (Y/N). I just...I’ve been very infatuated with you since we first met earlier, and that’s very unlike me because we’ve hardly talked to one another. But it’s the truth, I swear. I’m not just trying to get into your pants.”

(Y/N) rolled onto her back to look up at Xavier. Her face was unreadable, which was just making things worse. He wished she would say something, anything. Even if she just told him to fuck off, with that beautiful, innocent mouth of hers.

Okay, maybe she shouldn’t say that.

She sighed and propped herself up on her elbows. “Okay, yes I did look at you when I said that, because I would be okay with losing my virginity to you, Xavier.”

With the words officially out of her mouth, Xavier couldn’t help but pounce on her. He pressed his lips against hers, stopping whatever else was about to be sad. He got up onto the bed and positioned himself so that he was straddling her still covered body. He kissed her intensely and passionately, but not so much as to rush her or make her feel uncomfortable.

She settled into the kiss very quickly. It wasn’t the first time she had made out with someone. Again, she had been a teenager with wild hormones once. Just because she hadn’t gone all the way with anyone didn’t mean that she hadn’t at least got to second base a couple of times. Of course, she felt guilty afterwards because of her upbringing, but it always felt good in the moment. And, in this moment, it felt especially good to be kissing Xavier’s soft, plump lips like this.

But when she heard the sound of one of the girls rolling over in their beds, she quickly put a hand against his chest and pushed him back. “We can’t do this here. What if they wake up?”

“It’s so dark, they wouldn’t even know,” Xavier said. “And we’ll be quiet. Well, I will be anyways. I don’t know about you.”

She wanted to glare at him, but he quickly ducked his head down to start kissing her neck. She bit her lip to stop a moan from erupting from her mouth as she felt a tingling sensation between her legs.

She couldn’t lie, the thought of losing her virginity in her camp counsellor bunk while her other camp counsellors slept did sound very risky and naughty. It also sounded very cliché, which was what she wanted. If she was going to be giving into sin this summer, she may as well do it in the most cliché way possible.

Xavier slipped under the covers with her and continued to kiss down her body. He kissed around the exposed areas of her neck and chest, not wanting to push too far just yet by trying to get under her shirt. Even though he was trying to get into her pants, he still wanted to be a gentleman about it.

(Y/N) looked down at him as he disappeared under the blankets. She was confused at first. If he was planning to take her virginity, shouldn’t he be up here with her? Wasn’t that how sex worked?

“What are you doing?” she whispered.

“I want to make sure you’re ready before we get into it,” he responded. “I want to make you feel good first. Can I take these shorts off?”

She nodded, but then realized he couldn’t see her and said, “Yes.”

He curled his fingers around the waistband of her pants and pulled them, and her panties, down in one swift movement. She raised her hips so he could pull them down as far as her ankles. Despite the blankets still covering her lower half, she felt very naked. Even if no one else could see her if they happened to look over, she knew that Xavier could see her. And right now, he was very, very close to her.

She gasped and quickly clapped a hand over her mouth when she felt something wet against her core. “What was that?!”

“My tongue.”

(Y/N) quickly covered her mouth when she felt it against her again. She had never heard of this form of sexual intimacy before. When she was in high school, her mom had warned her about all of the “impure ways” boys would try to use her, which included them wanting to stick their penises in her mouth, but no one had ever mentioned a guy doing the same thing to her. It felt dirty, but also it felt so good.

She muffled her moans with both hands as Xavier continued to lick from her clit down to her tight, untouched hole. A wetness began pooling between her legs that he lapped up as if it were the first drink of water he had in weeks. Her body shuddered with pleasure every time his tongue connected with her. It was better than she ever could’ve imagined, and that just made her even more excited for the actual sex.

Something began to build in her stomach. A feeling she had never felt before. It felt like someone was inside of her, pushing something down from her stomach to get it out of her. She tried to tap Xavier to tell him, but she was afraid to lift her hand from her mouth in case she made a loud noise and woke the others.

“I can feel that you’re tightening up,” he said. “That means you’re getting close. Lean into it, beautiful. Let it happen. Cum all over my mouth.”

It was enough to send her toppling over the edge. She pressed her hands against her mouth as hard as she could as a scream of pleasure ripped from her lips. Xavier’s fingertips dug into her hips as he held her to him, taking in every bit of her juices that he could. He knew it was her first time having an orgasm, but he didn’t expect for her to become so wet and to finish so quickly just from his tongue. His dick twitched with excitement at the thought of being inside of her.

With one last kiss to her clit, Xavier began kissing up her stomach, lifting her shirt slightly as he left messy, wet marks over her belly, her chest, her neck, and finally getting to her face. Through the white moonlight, (Y/N) could see a glisten on his mouth and chin. Between her legs throbbed as she realized that was her slick on him.

He gently moved his hands away from her mouth so he could kiss her. The taste of his lips were much different, and she knew that was because that was the taste of her on him. It was all just so hot that she almost couldn’t believe any of this was happening. She was sure she was dreaming it all, that she’d wake up in this bed alone and unsatisfied.

Xavier reached under the covers to start pulling down his own pants, but hesitated a moment. He pulled away from the kiss, (Y/N) trying to follow him with her own lips.

“Wait,” he said. “Before we go all the way, I have to check in one last time. Are you okay with this, (Y/N)?”

She nodded frantically. “Yes,” she breathed. “Yes, please Xavier. Please.”

“Okay, but if you want to stop at all you tell me, okay? I know I just warmed you up, but it is going to hurt at first either way. If it’s too much, we stop. Okay?”

“Okay,” she said.

He sat up and pulled his pants down around his knees. His dick sprang free from its confides, standing painfully at attention in the moonlight. (Y/N) looked at it with wide eyes. She wasn’t sure what to expect from the first penis she’d see, but it was certainly a big one. She wondered how it would even fit inside of her.

Xavier placed his hands under her thighs and pulled them up so they were wrapped around his hips. The ran the head of his dick through the slick that was still left over from him having been between her legs. She whimpered at the feeling, quickly putting a hand over her mouth again. Both of them glanced over to make sure Brooke and Montana were still peacefully sleeping.

“I’m going to put it in now,” Xavier told her. “I’ll do it very slowly, okay?”

She nodded. He thrust his hips forwards a little, pushing just the tip of his cock into her. He hissed at the tight feeling around his already sensitive tip. He wasn’t sure how he’d ever last when she was already gripping him so tightly and he barely had the head of his dick inside of her.

(Y/N) gasped into her hand at the feeling. Xavier pushed until his head was completely inside of her, stretching her out. The stretch was definitely a painful, burning feeling. It was like her body knew he wasn’t supposed to be in there and wanted him out, but she wanted him in there. She had fantasized about this since the first time she had ever laid her eyes on Xavier - a time she knew he had definitely forgotten.

He lick his thumb and lowered it between them, pressing it against her clit and gently rubbing circles into the bundle of nerves. (Y/N) whimpered at the gesture.

“This should help make it feel better,” he told her. “Just until I can get all the way inside of you, okay?”

She nodded again. At this point, talking was definitely not happening. Any noise that were to come out of her mouth would just be a moan or a whimper of pleasure, and she wasn’t sure she’d be able to keep the volume down without her hands over her mouth.

Xavier continued to push inside of her while gently rubbing circles into her clit. He looked between them and watched as his dick disappeared into her. His bottom lip was pulled between his teeth, trying to stop any sounds that might come out unintentionally. It felt so good inside of her that he already did not want the this to end. He just wanted to stay inside of her forever, feel her warm walls gripping around him, look at her beautiful face as it contorted in pure ecstasy.

When he was buried all the way inside of her, he leaned down and took her hand from her mouth so he could kiss her. He continued to rub her clit, but he kept himself deep inside of her so she could get used to his size. She moaned into the kiss, her body inadvertently jerking from the pleasure she was feeling. The motion caused Xavier’s hips to move forward to fill her again. It was just a slight movement, but it was enough that it drove Xavier wild.

“Do that again,” she whispered against his lips.

“What?”

“The way you moved your hips. Do it again, please. It felt really good.”

He smiled down at her and gently grinded his hips against hers. Her mouth hung open, but no sounds were coming now. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head, and that was all Xavier needed to tell him he was doing a good job.

He took his hand from between her legs so he could fully press himself against her. He captured her lips with his again and continued to gently thrust into her. The slow sensation was enough to make his orgasm build at a quicker rate than he would’ve liked, but he knew he wasn’t going to finish until she did. He wanted to feel her cum around him at least once before he would let himself finish.

Luckily, he could feel that familiar tightening feeling; where her walls started grasping at him tighter than before and he could feel her stomach tensing beneath him.

“Remember what I said earlier,” he whispered. “Just let it happen. Let me feel you cum all over this dick.”

She nodded, soft whimpers coming from her mouth. It wasn’t too long afterwards that he felt her clenching around him so tightly that he was sure she was going to rip his dick off just with her pussy. He kissed her hard, muffling her cries of pleasure. His hips were stilled as he let her ride out her climax, knowing that if he were to move anymore he’d definitely cum, too, and he wasn’t going to cum inside of her. That was too dangerous. He didn’t want to be responsible for any sort of backlash from her parents once she got home from camp, even if that ship had already sailed.

When the feeling of her quivering became too much, Xavier quickly pulled out of her and sat up on his knees again. He pushed her tank top up just enough to expose her belly and the underside of her boobs. It only took a few pumps of his hand, slick from her juices over his dick, before he was exploding over her stomach. He threw his head back, letting out a quiet groan.

They both were still, panting to catch their breaths. Xavier looked down at (Y/N), now covered in his seat, and he felt his dick twitch again. If he could take a picture of this moment, he would. And he would’ve stuck it in his wallet so he could look at it all the damn time.

He reached for her discarded towel from earlier that night and wiped her off. She hissed when he wiped between her legs, and he mumbled as soft, “Sorry.”

They both pulled their pants back up and got themselves straightened away before Xavier laid down next to her. He figured he could spare a few moments just to cuddle up close to her before he would have to run back to his cabin and his bed to try and get some sleep. (Y/N) rolled into his chest, taking in his warmth and the scent of him that was quickly becoming her favorite scent; the smell of his hair paste and the sweet cologne he wore. She wished she could combine them together into a perfume that she would wear for the rest of her life.

It was silent for some time except for the soft breathing of her bunkmates and the occasional snore that came from Brooke. Once her head had finally stopped feeling lightheaded, (Y/N) decided it was time to confess to Xavier.

“I’ve seen you before, you know.”

He moved so he could look down at her. “What?”

“I was in one of your aerobics classes,” she said. “Not very long ago, maybe a few months ago? One of my friends signed us up because she heard it was a good way to stay in shape.”

“I...I feel so bad to say that I don’t...remember,” Xavier said. He was sure he would’ve remembered seeing this beautiful specimen in one of his classes. He saw so many faces every day, but he always remembered the prettiest ones, and (Y/N) was definitely a face to remember.

“I wasn’t in it long enough to be remembered,” she admitted. “We walked in, and I saw you and...well...I started feeling...impure things when I saw you in your tight suit doing all those hip movements and stuff. You were in the middle of another class so we had to wait. Unfortunately, we didn’t get to start our class because my friend’s parents walked in to bring her something she had forgotten and saw the way everyone was dressed and how they were all moving. They were appalled. They dragged us out and brought us home. Told my parents, who grounded me for a week because of it. They claimed that we were trying to behind their backs, but I truly had no idea what I was in for when I agreed to go.”

Xavier cringed. He felt terrible hearing the way (Y/N) must’ve lived her entire life. Having to be afraid of mistakenly doing something “impure” or “sinful” and getting punished for it, even if the “sinful” things were just basic things that happen in life. He wished he could’ve taken away all those bad times from her memory and replace them with good ones; memories where (Y/N) could just be a normal person and not have to worry about God’s wrath or whatever they said in churches.

“That’s why I glanced at you when we were talking about sex,” (Y/N) continued. “Because...because I had fantasies about this very situation happening since the day I first saw you.”

Xavier couldn’t help but smirk proudly at that. “And did the actual thing live up to your expectations?”

She giggled. “Majorly.”

“Good. I’m glad to hear that.”

There was another moment of silence before Xavier added, “It doesn’t have to be a one time thing, though.”

(Y/N) turned to rest her chin on his chest. “What do you mean?”

“I mean...maybe, once the summer ends, we could go on some proper dates. Maybe...actually be a couple?”

(Y/N)’s eyes twinkled in the moonlight as she looked at him. He smiled at how beautiful she was, and at how lucky he was to be the one she was looking at.

“Really?” she asked.

“Only if you want to,” he responded.

Her reply was by attacking his face with kisses. He chuckled as she left not one inch of his face unkissed, ending with her lips against his.

“That’s a yes, by the way,” she said.

“I could tell,” he said. “I should go before I get in trouble for being here.”

“I guess you should.”

He didn’t move to leave right away. He continued to gaze into her eyes for a moment longer, before kissing her one last time and getting up from her bed. He couldn’t help but looking back at her as he made his way towards the door. She was still smiling at him as he finally allowed the door to swing shut behind him, obstructing his view of her.

He couldn’t help but stand outside the door for a moment, letting out a long, happy sigh, before making his way back to the boy’s cabin.

I’ve never written poc!reader before so I hope this is okay! I usually don’t describe anything with my general x reader fics because I want them to be inclusive for everyone, but I don’t mind writing specific ones like this when asked!

[chaos-is-beautifvl]

it’s been well over a year since i posted my writing in the ahs fandom. and, after a bit of searching the tags, i realized that the activity for michael langdon (in particular) has drastically decreased since i was last here

that being said, i have a couple stories that i never got around to finishing, as well as two series i left on hiatus. i, for sure, want to finish the series but let me know which one-shots you’re interested in. i would prefer to create stories that others are going to read and not just me

p.s. check out my other writing here and here (primarily michael langdon but also xavier plympton, duncan shepherd, and jim mason)

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

𝐨𝐧𝐞-𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐬:

𝐌𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐞𝐥 𝐋𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐝𝐨𝐧:

✿ class reunions are overrated || outpost!michael

you think class reunions are overrated but a series of events following a certain blonde friend change your mind

✿ it’s called magic, darling || dilf!michael x teacher!reader

all the teachers have a crush on the hot dad with the adorable daughter but he only has his eyes set on one

✿ you’re not my friend

you and michael have to work together on a new project. michael is used to everyone falling at his feet, but he’s in for a rude awakening you could give zero fucks || inspired by therefore i am - billie eilish

✿ how did we get here?

you watch as michael changes into someone he’s not, leaving you questioning your relationship || inspired by decode - paramore

𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬:

✿ no body, no crime feat. detective!duncan shepherd || preview here

the good detective comes to you with a mystery he thinks he’s solved, only to discover just how wrong he is || inspired by no body, no crime - taylor swift

𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬:

✿ a helping hand || fem!reader, set in the outpost

your meeting with langdon takes an awry turn when he brings up something from your past

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5

✿ 1984 x Coven x Apocalypse crossover || fem!reader, implied!poc

the year is 1984, you’re on the road with your cousin and everything seems to be going well. however, it all starts going to shit as soon as you set foot in that camp

chapter 1: the start of a wonderful summer | chapter 2: what donkey? | chapter 3: cece and freddy

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

[austinstyles]

Holiday

Cody Fern x OC

( I use this gif because I wanted to. Just putting that out there.)

Summary : Cody and the OC are friends that started to date and this is taken place during Christmas time and they are madly in love. And the OC is named Sapphire. And this is mostly during the time they are dating. (Short fanfic)

( I decided to make a female character because that is what I want to do. I hope everyone can respect that. I also know that Cody himself is in a relationship with a man. And I respect that there are people how love who they love. So just letting everyone know. )

Warning: Kissing, making out and spelling mistakes.Also let me know if I missed anything.

Sapphire pov

It is Christmas time all around, everyone is decorating and hanging lights. Is the most wonderful time, and I get to spend time with my amazing boyfriend Cody. And today we’re decorating a Christmas tree, we’re smiling and laughing. It feels amazing to just enjoying some alone time with Cody.

Christmas songs are playing in the background, the tree is looking amazing. I love the holidays, and I love spending time with Cody. We actually met back when we were kids in Australia, and it was the hole friend to lovers. Can’t imagine not having Cody be in my life, and getting to be in a relationship with him is just so amazing. He is caring and so sweet. You can say were some what of a lovey-dovey couple at times.

But you can also see the passion we have for each other. I am just so thankful for having him in my life.

This holiday season is going to be a nice one. And I get to spend Christmas with Cody. If it wasn’t very clear you can tell that my love for my boyfriend is very passionate. Every time we kiss sparks fly all over, and it can get very hot and steamy. More in the case of we start making out at any time when we’re kissing.

As we’re decorating I turn my head to Cody, and look into his gorgeous eyes. His eyes are looking into my eyes, and soon we’re kissing with so much passion. Then the kissing is turned into a make out session. Sparks are flying. And I can’t get enough of him.

While we’re making out, in the background the song ‘All I Want For Christmas Is You’ starts to play.

My mind goes over to the fact that all I wanted this Christmas was Cody. And also that I am lucky to have him in my life. I couldn’t have imagined a life without Cody as a part of it.

This holiday season is going to be magical. And I have so much I am thankful for this year. Also can’t wait to see what next year brings in store for my life. But at this moment in time all I am focused on is Christmas. Cody is still going to be by my side and I will be by his side.

After we have made out we’re back to finishing the decorations, and at the moment we’re done decorating. And decided to watch a Christmas movie. My head is on his shoulder, his arm is around my right arm.

And it is moments we spend together that makes me feel like I am so lucky to have a guy that treats me the way he treats me.

If you had told me at 7 when I first met Cody we would’ve been dating in our early adult years I wouldn’t have believed it. But had you said we would be great friends I would believe you.

And we have our journey with ups and downs, but we are here for each other and that is what matters.

As the first movie I had gifts that need rapping so I decided to go do that.

After the gift are rapped both me and Cody put them under the tree. This Christmas me and Cody are coworkers my family at my place. So it made sense to put the gift for each other under the tree we have decorated. And also I put the gifts for my parents and my sister under the tree.

Today is December 12th, and it seems early to put gifts under the tree, but I don’t care. And yes were decorating a bit late the some people do, but today we both had a free day so it was a perfect day to decorate my place with Christmas decorations.

I love Christmas, and love that I get to spend the holidays with my family and my boyfriend.

Thanks for reading, and thanks for all the support I get on my fanfics. I appreciate every like and comments and reblog. Let me know what you think of this fanfic. And my next fanfic with be coming in 2024. Merry Christmas and happy holidays. Take care everyone. And stay safe.

😃🩷👍🏻🌸🖤

Grace

Tag list (Cody Fern related) : @morby





[velangdon]

It's been a long time since I felt so inspired to write something until I knew Cody. I've been feeling incredibly inspired lately and it's thanks to him.

The point is that I can't understand why I feel so shy about wanting to publish my Fanfics inspired in Cody here. In my vision, the plots have a lot potential but for some reason I'm too shy in that aspect. </3

[galaxybabes99]

Who's wanting a part two of Fetish, Thomas Browne X reader? Curious

[i-tramonti-che-non-tramontano]

Just published the first chapter of my new fan fiction, Cody Fern related! If you want to give it a try and give me some feedbacks, I'd really appreciate it🤍

[slutforgarlogan]

"Youre a pretty little thing" | Michael Langdon x F! reader.

Summary: based off this request. Michael Langdon showing off to the coven witches and using the seven wonders to impress you because he has a crush on you

A/N: guys i love him im a catholic and he's the antichrist we're like romeo and juliet. also the writing on this one is questionable n clunky but im on wine and cider so it needs to be forgiven

When the warlocks had told Cordelia they wanted to have Michael perform the seven wonders, Michael had felt determined to get it done quickly and better than Cordelia could do it, to prove he was the next supreme, and no one could argue it.

However, when the witches had arrived telling him they agreed to it, and he could attempt to perform the seven wonders, Michael had found himself a little distracted by one of the witches, you. His new goal was to impress you.

First wonder: Telekinesis. This one was easy and simple, he just had to move something without touching it. He did so, quickly and with ease, shooting a cocky smirk at the witches, eyes lingering on you a little.

Second wonder: Concilium. Michael knew he could be crafty with this one - control of the mind. He looked at you, and as you made eye contact, you knew you were going to be the victim of him showing off this power.

You could feel yourself moving towards him, very much against your will, and you took mental note of the fact that though you yourself were a very powerful witch, he was powerful enough that you couldn't even try and fight it.

To your surprise, despite the weird evil vibe you've all been getting from him, all he makes you do is dance with him. You uncontrollably slow dance with him, unsure whether it's his pretty face or the magic thats making you kind of nervous, but whatever it is, you scold yourself for thinking that way about a man that even one of the warlocks is scared of.

When he's done making you dance with him, you awkwardly do the walk of shame back over to stand next to Zoe, awkwardly smiling at her.

Third wonder: Transmutation. Another easy one, Michael thought. Madison had tapped him on the shoulder, and in turn, he had appeared behind you to tap you on the shoulder.

By the time you had turned round, he had dissappeared again, leaving everyone looking around for him. Your eyes dart around the room, a little puzzled. Whatever he was doing, it was successfully intriguing you more and more by the second, drawing yourself to the unsettling boy.

"Look up"

You can all hear the cockiness in his voice, the same annoying smirk as before present on his face, as you look up to the ceiling, to see Michael attatched to it, looking down on everyone, like one of those sticky animals you get from toy machines.

Fourth wonder: divination. Once again, Michael already knew he could do this, another easy one. He had to do this one as it was given to him, unfortunately, and couldn't do anything extra to inadvertently flirt with you more. And so, he makes a small bit of eye contact with you, before he takes the small pebbles and usea them to figure out where the pocket watch is, finding it almoat instantly, and walking over to where it was to pick it up and show the witches.

Fifth wonder: Pyrokenesis. Michael decided the best thing to do, would be to conjure a ring of fire around where you and madison were stood, making piercing eye contact with you through the fire, and getting rid of it as quickly as he had conjured it up.

To you, the danger and mystery of him was considerably attractive, though Cordelia didn't seem too impressed that he was practically targeting you.

Sixth wonder: Vitalum Vitalis. Michael was given a rat to bring back to life, which proved another easy task for him, doing so pretty much instantaneously, and moving on to the seventh wonder.

Seventh wonder: Descensum. Cordelia had ordered for Michael to not only successfully come back from this, but also to retrieve Misty Day, who had been lost to this particular task when she tried the seven wonders.

This, of course, had caused an arguement between her and the warlocks, who were claiming it wasnt fair, and that it's not a part of the rules.

You and Michael, had been making eye contact the whole time, and the tension between the two of you was so thick you could almost see it. He broke eye contact to look at the warlocks, holding up a dissmissive hand to them "Relax, I'll do it"

He did, and you watched intensely as he lay there, seemingly lifeless. You started to feel a little nervous, even though you didn't know him at all really, nor would you ever admit to having the slightest care in the world how this played out, you told yourself you were nervous because you wouldn't wish death upon anyone.

Sure enough, he did return, and Misty did - eventually - return with him. Much to everyones shock.

You stood there and gawked, eyes flicking between Michael and Misty, and he smirked at you.

A short bicker between the witches and warlocks ensued, before the witches had all turned there attention to Misty.

You however, had turned your attention to Michael, your gaze locking with his for what felt like the millionth time today.

"You seem impressed, little witch," he smirks a little at you, and you nod in response.

"I am impressed" you confirm, trying to be cautious, undeniably attracted to him, but still acknowledging that there's something off about him.

"That was the goal, i wanted to impress you" he sounds serious about it, and you tilt your head a little, cocking an eyebrow.

"Why"

"You're a pretty little thing, thats why"

[redroses07]

help me

[fear-is-truth]

INTERVIEW WITH THE ANTICHRIST

── michael langdon x gn! reader. || wc: 980

The chamber was eerily silent, illuminated only by the flickering candles and the warm glow of the fireplace. You were seated in a plush armchair, stiff and cold beneath your fingers, your back pressed tight against the cushions.

The air was thin, as if it was being slowly siphoned away. You felt small, trapped. Like an insect in a glass jar. Langdon had only arrived at the outpost a day ago, but already, you could feel the shift in power. Even Venable—the high and mighty bitch who ruled over all—was clearly shaken by his arrival.

No one knew much about him, only that he was important. And dangerous.

The interviews with Langdon had quickly become a topic of annoyance among the other inhabitants. Each person who had been interviewed complained about his cryptic nature and nonchalant attitude. Whatever his purpose here, it felt like a game to him—a clever farce meant to toy with you all.

And now it was your turn to entertain him.

You kept your gaze fixed ahead as Langdon rose from behind his desk, the sound of his boots against the floor the only disruption to the stifling silence as he approached you. He did not bother to sit. Instead, he stood before you, arms clasped behind his back, his expression inscrutable as he studied you.

“You’re the seventh,” he announced, and his voice was smooth, like a glassy winter pond. You nodded, swallowing hard, unable to tear your eyes away from him as he began to circle you. The way he moved was languid, graceful.

You fidgeted slightly, trying to suppress your nerves. Langdon was, undeniably beautiful— angelic, even. He looked as if he had been sculpted from marble, with sharp, almost impossibly perfect features—chiselled cheekbones and a jawline that could cut glass. Long, golden hair fell in soft waves over his shoulders, and his pale skin stood out against his all-black attire. The dark clothing gave him an air of authority, likely because he was sent by The Cooperative.

“Tell me. How do you feel your life here, at the Outpost?” he purred, his voice curling in the air around you. The question seemed casual, yet there was something in the way he said it that made you feel anything but.

“It's...” You paused, your throat suddenly dry. “It’s fine,” the words felt hollow on your tongue, laughable, given the bleak reality of your existence here. Sure, you were relieved to be alive, the temptation of sweet oblivion often lingered at the edge of your thoughts. Langdon moved behind you, and even though you couldn’t see him, you could feel his bright blue gaze drilling into the back of your skull.

When he spoke again, his voice was a soft, coaxing whisper, like honeyed velvet.

“What do you miss the most?”

The question struck you off guard. It wasn’t what you had anticipated—then again, you hadn’t known what to expect.

“…I’m sorry?”

“Prior to… all of this,” he clarified, gesturing vaguely at the surrounding walls,

“What do you miss most?”

You exhaled shakily, gripping the armrests tighter as you spoke.

“I… I miss the colours. The sky, the sunsets. And the trees, the ones that lined the sidewalks. The way they change in autumn.”

He chuckled softly, and you swore you could detect genuine humour in the sound. Embarrassed at the wistfulness in your tone, you stared down at your lap, at the monotonous gray of your uniform.

“You miss beauty, don’t you?”

he murmured, his breath warm against your ear as he leaned closer. His thumb brushed the edge of your jaw in the lightest of touches. Stunned into silence, you simply nodded.

He stopped in front of you now, tilting his head slightly, eyes narrowing as if appraising your response. The silence stretched, tension pulling at the edges of the room until it felt unbearable. Then, he deadpanned,

“The world outside is a wasteland now,”

There was no trace of emotion, his words as detached as if he were reading from a script. He stepped closer, leaning in. The cool press of his hand settled against your cheek, the metal of his rings biting into your skin. You froze under his touch, your breath catching in your throat.

“But perhaps,” he mused, his voice soft, almost to himself, “some beauty has survived after all.”

Just as quickly as he had touched you, he withdrew his hand and resumed circling. Every step he took only made the knot of anxiety in your chest tighten further.

The questions that followed were innocent but somehow, simultaneously intimate. He asked about your favourite book, about what scared you most as a child, your childhood best friend.

Throughout it all, his piercing blue eyes never strayed from you. They stripped you bare, as though he was peeling back the layers of your very soul. You answered as best you could, because you had a nagging suspicion that he already knew the answers before you spoke.

Then, just as quickly as it had started, the interview ended.

“That’s all for now.” Langdon turned on his heel, striding toward the door with the same measured grace. His fingers brushed the sleek panels, sliding them open with ease. He paused at the threshold, turning back to look at you. His expression was unreadable, yet there was something lingering in his eyes, something you couldn’t quite put your fingers on.

“I look forward to our next meeting.”

You blinked, unsure if this was the end. The knot of nerves tightened in your stomach as you stood from the armchair, wringing your hands together.

“Wait,” you called after him, your voice trembling slightly.

“Have I… did I get in?”

Langdon turned fully to face you, a faint, almost amused smile curling at the corners of his lips.

“You were already in before the interview,” he murmured, as if it were an afterthought.

“I just wanted to speak to you nonetheless.”

 fear-is-truth 2024 — all rights reserved. do not modify, repost, translate, or plagiarise my content.

[mushroom-words]

The Devil Take That Woman || Michael Langdon

Fandom: American Horror Story Pairing: Michael Langdon x Fem!Reader Words: 6318 Notes: Okay, so I'm not totally sold on the ending (I suck at writing endings), but I am pleasantly surprised with how this one turned out. Warnings: Dubious consent, death (mentioned and alluded to but not shown), Dom!Michael, Sub!Reader, Witch!Reader, fingering, hair pulling, choking, gagging, humiliation, crying, violence, spanking, nipple play, slight degradation, pussy slapping, fear arousal, autassassinophilia (paraphilia where a person is sexually aroused by the risk of being killed), spitting, restraints (by magic), biting, brief aftercare. I think that's all, but please please please let me know if I missed anything. Summary: Michael storms Miss Robichaux's Academy for Exceptional Young Ladies and eliminates the witches, but he has a special debt to collect from you.

Special shout out to my girl @langdonss for wholly enabling my lust for this demon spawn.

A SHROUD OF death seemed to loom over the academy. You felt it in the way your sisters were quick to snap at each other’s throats, in the way your powers seemed to fizzle out right when they reached their peak potential, in the way the gardens seemed to wilt. You even saw it in the way the sun and moon shifted positions from day to night.

        It seemed to warn you of an impending danger. An inevitable travesty that would rock the foundation of everything still holding the world together.

        Michael Langdon. His nature threatened humanity at its purest form, and he was rising quicker than anyone could stop him. He had passed the Seven Wonders with disturbing ease. He’d even brought four witches back from the dead as only a small demonstration of the range of his power.

        The warlocks prophesied he was to be the next leader, known as the Alpha—and as Cordelia was fading far quicker than Fiona had crumbled, the future was looking bleak. In a time where the Antichrist was rising exponentially, there was no rest to be had. Every possible avenue must be investigated, and everyone was scrambling for a solution.

        Cordelia prompted your name softly. “Zoe has offered to take over your class this afternoon,” she said, placing a delicate hand atop your shoulder like you were crafted out of the finest glass. “You’ve been working yourself to exhaustion. You need to rest.”

        “We have to be prepared.” You didn’t lift your focus from the material spread out in front of you, your tired eyes desperately soaking up whatever information they could. “The only way to do that is to know everything.”

        Your Supreme’s failing health had your coven fraying at the seams. Mallory looked to be well on her way to rising, and most efforts not centered on Michael Langdon were focused on helping her nurture her magic. But the cloud seemed to be closing in on the young witch too. She was starting to struggle to perform what had come very easily to her just months prior.

        Desperation clawed furiously as the hourglass seemed to empty a little quicker each day. You’d taken to pouring your attention over religious studies. Whatever free time you had available between mentoring your junior witches and helping Mallory, you spent on learning all you possibly could on the Antichrist and its variants. Knowing the enemy was a vital step in defeating them.

        Cordelia sighed. “You’ve done enough for right now, sweetheart,” she said gently. “You won’t be good to anyone if you’ve burned yourself out.”

        You reluctantly looked away from the text and up at her. She offered a soft smile that no longer reached her eyes. There wasn’t much happiness that did anymore, but still, she tried to be strong for her girls. Just as you tried to be strong for her.

        “I couldn’t have asked more from you than what you’ve already given to me yourself, (Y/N).” She pressed a palm against the curve of your cheek. “Give your eyes a small break. Try to get some rest.”

        It was the soft plea in her tone that encouraged you to agree. Plus, the thought of a hot bath was almost too tempting for you to ignore. You’d been staying up at all hours cramming whatever knowledge you could in preparation for the holy fight you felt was edging closer. The prophesied battle of good and evil.

        The marbled bathroom you shared with Queenie was your sanctuary—or, rather, it used to be. Not so much in the past few months. You set out a small pile of towels and your robe so they were within easy reach. Letting the water reach the perfect temperature, you decided to splash in some scented oils and bubble solution before easing into the porcelain tub. The familiar daily activity of Miss Robichaux’s floated up from downstairs. It soothed you to have it as a background noise, reminded you that your sisters were safe for the time being behind the wrought iron gates.

        Right now was the only time that mattered most to you. It was the only time when your decisions could be made and determined to shape the future. What waited beyond right now was unpredictable at best but was utterly frightening to consider.

        You had witnessed Michael Langdon’s ability firsthand. He had presented himself as your savior when he had sauntered up to you while you were reliving the very worst of your repressed memories, magnified by then, just as you’d been since your fatal blunder during the Seven Wonders years ago. The monster of your past had been slain valiantly by the very one who now had the coven tearing their hair from its roots.

        Nobody but Papa Legba had the power to walk the realm of the Underworld—not until Michael Langdon had done the very same, freeing not only you but three of your sisters too.

        It was terrifying what he could do. Even more frightening was what he was written to do.

        A deafening series of gunfire shattered the casual peace. An ear-piercing chorus of shrieks and wails quickly followed suit. Lukewarm water sloshed over either side of the tub as you hastily ejected yourself from submersion. You just stared wide-eyed at the door while the screams of your friends and students—your sisters—echoed through the academy in sharp succession. Everything in you froze. You couldn’t move, forced to just listen to the chaos.

        It fell silent nearly as abruptly as it had erupted. Too silent. Deathly silent.

        Heart pounding and mouth dry, you shakily got to your feet, trying to make as little noise as possible. A million thoughts raced through your mind with enough speed to give you whiplash. There was no satisfactory response to any of them. You wrapped yourself in your plush bathrobe and slowly opened the door to peer into your shared bedroom.

        “Where are they?”

        The smooth tenor chilled you right down to your very soul. Michael Langdon—his voice carried through the halls, which you guessed were now hauntingly void of any of your sister witches. You could only hope that some of them had managed to escape or, at the very least, weren’t too badly injured. From what little you could overhear of the frustrated conversation, you were able to determine that Cordelia, Myrtle, and Mallory had managed to flee from the carnage.

        The small spark of relief you felt at that was, however, short-lived.

        “And what of our dear little friend (Y/N)?” He was dangerously close to your bedroom now. You’d barely heard his footfalls come up the stairs, let alone bring him so near to where you stood frozen. “It would be such a shame if she were whisked away with the other three.”

        You swiftly ducked back inside the bathroom. Not a moment too soon, either, as you heard somebody enter the bedroom just a second after you clicked the lock into place. The footsteps were heavy now. Each crisp step of expensive leather shoes against the polished hardwood flooring sent a fresh wave of dread through you. You backed away from the door slowly, your bare feet merely whispering across the slicked marble.

        The footsteps paused. You held your breath.

        A gust of energy suddenly busted the door down. Your body was thrown through the air and into the opposite wall. The wave crashed just as easily as it had crested, and you crumbled to the floor. Your bones ached at the harsh impact of the hard marble against your soft flesh.

        You reluctantly lifted your head, your blurry eyes trailing from those designer shoes and up the perfectly tailored suit until they met the icy stare of the man—the warlock, the Antichrist himself—who had been strategically chipping away at your sanity ever since he pretended to be your knight in shining armor.

        A lazy smirk presented on those delectably pink lips, but his eyes held nothing but a darkness so deep it coiled invisible shadows around your fallen body. A darkness tinged with bloodlust, satisfaction, twisted amusement, and the excitement of a chase that had finally reached its lethal end.

        “There you are,” he said softly, the words whispering along your skin like silk embedded with daggers. “I’ve been looking for you.”

        He clasped his hands behind his back and took measured steps towards you. You scrambled up to your feet and around to the other side of the bathtub, placing it between you. You’d always wondered why someone would design a bathroom with the tub in the middle of the room, but now you were silently thanking them.

        “Stay away from me, Langdon,” you demanded, your voice coming out much stronger than you felt at the moment.

        “I think we’re past the formalities, (Y/N).” He continued an easy path around the bathroom, taking two steps forward for every one you retreated. “Your sisters are dead, little witch. And the others—well, they’ve left you here to fend for yourself, haven’t they? You’re alone,” he said.

        You were torn between focusing on his approaching figure and being careful on where your feet landed, knowing one wrong move could result in you slipping in the puddles of water. It was difficult to keep your attention divided equally between them. Another step back, another step closer to the door. Not that you even dared to think you could just run out and evade him. But it might give you a fighting chance—if he allowed that much from you.

        Biting back the tears that clung to your lashes, you thrust your hand out towards him. The energy thrumming through your veins centered warmly at your palm. It died there, fizzling out like it had been doing so frequently in recent days.

        He chuckled quietly, the sound causing the hairs on your neck to stand to attention. “That might have worked before,” he said, sauntering closer still. “But I’m too strong now. Your magic is nothing compared to what I have.”

        “What the fuck do you want from me, Langdon?” Fear squeezed your lungs until you were having to fight to get in any oxygen. Your fingers trailed along the edge of the tub to help guide you as you continued backing away. The door was almost within your peripheral vision now.

        “What filthy words to come from such a pretty little mouth.” He clicked his tongue, running it along his teeth and shaking his head as though disappointed in your language. “I already have what I want, little witch. You’re right here.”

        It felt like his words punched a hole in your chest. Your legs started to struggle to hold your weight up, like the realization was too much for your body to handle. Like it wanted you to give in to those feelings you’d fought against following your resurrection.

        Michael Langdon might have needed the coven out of his way to achieve his overall goal, but he was after you specifically. He wasn’t happy that you had run back to your sisters to actively work against him, to give your all into plotting his downfall in order to save humanity from extinction. He wanted to keep you at his side.

        Your coven had been the only reason you’d left him in the first place. If it hadn’t been for their unending love and acceptance, hadn’t been for the family they had given you for all those years, you would have listened to the burning desire you’d held for your savior and run into his arms.

        Even now, in this little game of cat and mouse that had icy fear seizing your heart, you felt the dim fire sizzling in your lower stomach. Your body would always sing out for him regardless of the monster he was. It was a matter of mind over matter—heart versus body.

        “No.” The word came out much too soft to convince anyone of your devotion to your sisters.

        “Yes, little witch.” His voice dropped to a belittling croon that chased shivers up your spine. “You’re mine, and I’m not one to make the same mistake twice,” he told you.

        You acted before you lost the courage to do so. Whirling around on your feet, you lunged for the door. It slammed shut just as your fingers grazed the doorknob. Your body continued to pitch forward, your bare feet losing purchase on the slippery marble. You cried out as you flung towards the floor.

        Michael was in front of you in the blink of an eye. A hand wrapped firmly around your throat, the other planted against the small of your back, bringing your body flush to his. Your hands flew up to his chest to steady yourself as your face was tilted up, forcing you to look at him. Your pulse raced against his touch, lips parted to let loose tiny puffs of air.

        He dipped his head until his ears brushed against the shell of your ear. “You can pretend to fight me—hate me—all you want, if that’s what makes you feel better,” he murmured, his honey voice a sweet caress over your frazzled nerves, “but we both know the truth, (Y/N). You were mine before the ashes of your fragile creation.”

        Your lashes fluttered as you felt his fingers flex against the column of your throat. A turbulent storm churned within you, deafening claps of thunder pounding against the inside of your head and streaks of lightning branching out from your very soul, alighting your body with sin. Your head tilted back, lips parting further to let the pathetic whimper fall from them, your resolve starting to crumble into the very stardust from whence you came.

        The tip of his nose dragged along your jawline. He inhaled deeply before letting the air back out in a contented hum, pulling back just enough for your heavy eyes to gaze into the depths of the devil himself. Your legs buckled beneath you under the weight of his stare, his hand pressing more firmly against your back, keeping you upright and so close you could feel every hard, lean muscle of his body against you.

        “Langdon…” His name fell from your lips like a breathless prayer you begged to have answered. Your fingers curled into his suit, itching to travel north and feel the planes of his chest, the contour of his jaw, the angle of his cheekbones.

        He leaned in. His lips whispered over yours, so close you could taste the cool sin on his tongue. “No. Say my name,” he demanded softly. “I want to hear you say it.”

        Your tongue felt like lead in your mouth. Words bubbled up but died on your lips. All the things you wanted to say shriveled up and disintegrated like ash. You’re the devil, you wanted to tell him. A bastard born of sin with a heart of evil. You wanted to spit curses at him, tell him to get his hands off of you, demand he leave you alone and never to darken your doorstep again.

        At least, that’s what you tried to convince yourself that you wanted to say. But the words fizzled from your tongue because you knew better. Sometimes the truth was more bitter than the lies.

        “Michael,” you whispered.

        His mouth slanted over yours as soon as the syllables rolled from your tongue. He swallowed every breath, every whimper, every last shred of your resolve as his lips commanded yours. His tongue pried them apart to claim your mouth, mapping out every inch, pushing against you in a dance that left no room for anything but your submission.

        You melted into his touch with a shiver, your body malleable under his hands as your head went blank. All lingering reservations fled your mind at the way he turned you into putty for him to mold into his vision. The tears that clung to your lashes slowly fell in a final fight for the grief and despair that entrapped your heart in bitter vines.

        Michael nipped at your bottom lip before pulling back. He moved the hand at your throat to press against your cheek, dragging his thumb along your cheekbone and tracing your swollen lips. Your watery lashes fluttered as you gazed up at him. He smiled gently at the tears he collected against his fingers.

        “That’s it, little witch,” he murmured. “Cry for me. You look so pretty when you cry.”

        A quiet sob wrenched from your throat. He hummed and slid his hand around to the back of your head. Tapered fingers wove between your damp hair before he suddenly yanked your head back. Your cry was swallowed by his mouth as it descended upon yours, lips hard and hungry and so delightfully sinful that your breath evaporated from your lungs.

        Michael lifted his hand from your back and deftly plucked at the tie holding your bathrobe together. Cool air kissed your skin before the chill was chased away. He palmed your breast, rolling it in his hand and squeezing, a blossoming ache forming beneath his fingers. You arched your back with a whine as he trailed his lips along the curve of your jaw and down to the thin flesh where it met the slope of your neck. He sucked your pulse point into his mouth, dragging his teeth over where it fluttered before sinking them into the skin.

        You mewled pathetically, hands flying from his chest to slide into his hair, fingers grappling at the golden curls as your body trembled with an ache that left your skin flushed. His fingers pinched your nipple, rolling it in his touch before tugging the hardened peak and forcing you to rise up on the tips of your toes. Another cry wrenched from you as he balanced you so perfectly on that precipice between pain and pleasure that had your head floating in the clouds.

        He released your nipple and traced his hand over the curve of your body, dragging his fingers along your flesh until they wedged between your thighs. Your legs threatened to collapse when he cupped your pussy. His name left your swollen lips in a breathless plea, syllables broken and cracked as you shifted to widen your stance for him. He groaned quietly and pulled away from your throat, pausing only to lave his tongue over the pretty imprint he left on your skin. Your hands fell back to his chest as he straightened.

        “So wet already, little witch,” he mused. “Tell me—is this all for me?”

        Michael dipped into your folds, gathering the evidence of your arousal. Shame plucked at your conscience like a harp. Nothing about this situation was right. It was wrong—so very, very wrong. It was the forbidden fruit that always tasted the sweetest.

        He lifted his hand in front of your face. Separating his index and middle finger, showing you the sticky slick that clung to his digits. Closing your eyes, you tried moving your head away, not wanting to be faced with what you already knew. Michael clicked his tongue and grabbed your face, pinching your cheeks and puckering your lips out, your slick smearing across your flesh.

        “Eyes on me, princess,” he demanded softly. You reluctantly brought your gaze back to him, fresh tears clinging to your lashes. He smiled. “Good girl.”

        Michael released your face and tapped his fingers against your lips. They parted in a quivering acquiescence to his silent command. He slipped those fingers into your mouth, pressing them against your tongue and pushing back until you were gagging around them. You tried to raise your hands to his wrist, desperate to dispel his fingers from your mouth, but they remained rooted at his chest—you couldn’t move. Forced to just stand there and take what he decided to give you.

        He smirked as the realization caused your gaze to shutter. “You look so good like this, (Y/N). Gagging, completely at my mercy. You were made for this.”

        Michael yanked your head back further, shoved his fingers deeper until they slid down your throat, and watched you struggle to breathe through your growing panic. Desperate, you bit down, and he merely clenched his teeth against the pain, releasing your hair to grab your chin. He pulled it down so you couldn’t bite anymore, his blunt nails scratching gently across your jaw as he did.

        Only when you were on the verge of either blacking out or vomiting did he withdraw his fingers. A string of saliva kept them tethered to your lips. Coughing and struggling to take in a proper breath, you shoved him away from you, only vaguely registering the magic that had held you prisoner in your body had been lifted.

        “What the fuck, Langdon?” you spat, your voice strained and choked between the gasps of air you sucked down into your lungs.

        Michael tsked and drew you back into him. He whipped you around until your back pressed against his front. His hand cradled your throat, thumb nudging your jaw until your head tipped up. The tip of his nose dragged along your damp cheek.

        “And here I thought we were finally getting somewhere.” He sighed, the exhale fanning across your face. “You’re gonna be screaming my name, little witch, until it’s the only one you remember. Your submission tastes so fucking sweet,” he murmured.

        He kissed your cheek before dragging his tongue over the tears that fell. You shuddered at the wet trail left in its wake, a whimper pushing past your lips as you fell further back into him, eyes growing heavy as his hand squeezed the column of your throat. His fingers pressed on either side of your windpipe until your head was floating back into the clouds of depravity.

        His lips came to rest at your ear, the smooth tenor of his voice prompting your pulse to race at the promise it held. “I’m never letting you run from me again, (Y/N). Even if that means I have to keep you tied to my bed until you realize you belong to me—and there’s nobody left out there to come save you.”

        Keeping his hand around your throat, he walked you forward until you stood before the bathtub. When your legs hit the porcelain, he pressed his lips to your temple, released a contented hum, and shoved you forward. Your hands flew out to catch yourself before you were dunked in the water, a sharp gasp pulling from your lungs as you gripped onto the opposite ledge, keeping yourself held up.

        “Langdon—”

        He brought his hand down sharply on your bottom, cutting off your words with a quiet cry. Your hair was roughly twisted in his fingers as he yanked your head back, forcing your neck to arch at a near impossible angle that had your thighs shaking as your bare feet slipped in the water on the marble floor. The only thing keeping you upright were his hips pinning you against the bathtub.

        Michael flipped the bottom of your bathrobe up to your lower back and spanked you again. “That’s not what you call me, (Y/N),” he said calmly, rubbing his palm over the stinging flesh. “Try again, princess.”

        Your fingers grappled at the ledge of the tub. You tried to push yourself up, to gain a bit more leverage, but quickly realized you were once again held completely at his mercy. Magic kept you exactly where he wanted you—stuck in place, completely at his mercy, unable to move anywhere past where he positioned you.

        The sensitive flesh of your inner thighs grew slick with your growing arousal. It forced a pathetic moan from your throat, eyes slamming shut as the humiliation swirled with the lingering shame. Your soul was tainted. Corrupted. Black as the sin that shrouded the magnificent Boy Wonder whose destiny laid out a path for world domination.

        Maybe he had sensed it in you when he’d pulled you back from hell. Like calls to like—and maybe your soul was so twisted, so deliciously depraved, that it reached out for him like a red string of fate.

        Maybe this was where you were meant to be. At his mercy. Under his control.

        The Antichrist’s little pet.

        “I can’t hear you, little witch,” he said after a moment, leaning down to whisper the unholy filth into your ear. “Who do you belong to?”

        “Y-You,” you whimpered, feeling yourself falling further from grace with each passing breath.

        “And what’s my name?”

        “Michael…”

        “Good girl.” He shoved your head back down, your face stopping just a mere inch away from the water. His boot nudged at your feet until your legs spread to his satisfaction.

        Two fingers suddenly pushed into your cunt. No resistance—he just slipped in easily, the realization making your face burn as you acknowledged just how turned on you were for this man. This fucking beast of hell. Your mouth popped open in a soft moan, your legs already shaking under the expertise of his touch.

        You were already falling apart for him, and he’d only just gotten started.

        He curled his fingers to press against a spot inside of you—a spot you hadn’t realized existed until now—that threatened to wipe away any sense left inside your mushy brain. Your body quivered like a leaf caught in the wind, senseless noises slipping from your lips, your walls fluttering around his digits as slick leaked out to coat his hand.

        Every attempt to push back against his fingers only stoked the frustration bubbling inside your chest. You whined, clenching your jaw as he dragged his fingers against your gummy walls, stroking you so beautifully that stars started to pop off in your vision.

        “Look at you, little witch,” he mused, scissoring his fingers inside of you, twisting them with every plunge inside of your cunt, drawing obscenely wet noises from where he worked you. “You’re drooling for me, aren’t you? What would your dear Supreme say, hmm?”

        A silent sob wrenched from your throat, your eyes slamming shut as you desperately tried and failed to rock back against him. Your breaths were starting to come out in ragged gasps, your chest heaving, bottom lip sore and swollen from how hard you’d embedded your teeth into it. The tang of blood trickled onto your tongue when you bit down on a particularly rough plunge of his fingers.

        Michael chuckled and brought his hand down on your ass, coaxing a high-pitched squeal from you at the burn that mingled with the fire stoked in your lower stomach. “Answer me, (Y/N),” he said—you didn’t need to be looking at him to know he was smirking, taking a twisted enjoyment out of your body’s reaction to him. “How would Cordelia feel if she knew what a sweet little harlot her precious witch is for the devil’s spawn?”

        More tears squeezed from your lashes to drip down into the cool water below you. Your senses were going haywire, your body fighting with your mind, your heart with your soul. How could someone so fucking evil make you feel so damn good—bring you to heights of pleasure you’ve never dared venture before with just his touch? God, Cordelia would be so damned ashamed of you if she knew. All of your sisters would.

        Consorting with the enemy was one thing. Submitting to the Antichrist, laying yourself bare and all but begging him to fuck you, was another entirely. You were unbelievably pathetic. Disgusting. Living up to a witch’s reputation as the devil’s whore.

        He promptly withdrew his fingers at your silence and smacked your pussy. You cried out, struggling against the magic holding you in place. Then he shoved three digits back inside of you, his motions much rougher than before, blunt nails scraping against your walls to create an illusion of bliss that teetered with pain.

        “I’m feeling generous, princess, so I’m going to give you one more chance,” he sneered. “Now tell me—how ashamed would your Supreme be if she saw you spread out like this for me?”

        “She—She’d hate me,” you cried. The truth slammed into your chest, breaking your heart into a million little pieces to be picked up later. But it was overridden by the overwhelming desire flooding your system. Your walls clenched around his fingers, the band of lust around your chest tightening to a breaking point. Every muscle was tensed and coiled, prepared to release as soon as that coil snapped.

        Michael hummed, then you heard him spit, felt the saliva land on your ass and slowly trail down to where he was plunging into you. You groaned as it mixed with the evidence of your arousal, listening to the way your slick squelched with every movement. Your legs shook almost violently from the expert way he played you like a fiddle, knowing exactly where to press his fingers and how deep to draw out your pleasure.

        “Fuck, Michael,” you mewled, your breath catching in your throat as you felt the wave start to crest, a mere foam on the horizon. “P-Please…”

        “Please what, princess?” he cooed, suddenly twisting those wicked fingers just right, making you cry out in pure, filthy desperation for him to bring you to release. “Are you gonna cum, little witch?”

        “Yes,” you sobbed. Your neck was starting to ache from keeping your head held up above the water, your hips from being pressed against the sides of the tub.

        Michael traced up the curve of your spine, the heat of his palm radiating through the plush robe, before weaving his fingers back into your hair. He gripped tight but didn’t pull your head up like you expected him to. Instead he leaned forward, his front pressing against your back in firm lines and lean muscle, placing his lips right back at your ear.

        “Deep breath, (Y/N),” he instructed coolly. 

        You sucked in a breath at his words but didn’t have the chance to let it back out when he suddenly shoved your head under the cold water. Your eyes popped open only to be met with the sting of the oils and bubble solution you’d poured in there earlier. Panic gripped at your chest. You still couldn’t move, but you thrashed your head, trying desperately to dislodge his grip from your hair.

        His fingers withdrew from your cunt but were quickly replaced. Michael snapped his hips forward, sheathing his cock inside of you in a single thrust. Immediately your mouth opened to release a muted scream. The bath water filled your mouth, sucking down your throat and into your burning lungs. Your entire body shook beneath him. The panic turned into the purest form of fear you had ever felt, topping the dread you’d had when you’d found yourself in Papa Legba’s clutches.

        Michael reached around your hips to place his fingers at your swollen clit. He rubbed it in tight, quick circles that almost instantly catapulted you over that ledge. Your walls clenched around him, your slick coating his cock as the coil finally snapped, a fire branching outwards to burn its way through your body. It licked its way down to your toes and the tips of your fingers.

        Darkness started to edge into your vision like a vignette. Your lungs screamed for oxygen. You tried holding your breath for as long as you could even through the tremors of your orgasm, through the feeling of Michael fucking you, his cock stretching your walls to their limit, filling you to the brim in a way you would be crying for if you hadn’t been on the verge of drowning.

        Was this his way of making sure you never ran away from him again—was he going to fuck you until your heart stopped beating?

        Just when you were about to try to breathe, when you thought you were going to pass out, he pulled your head back up to the surface. You greedily tried to suck air down into your lungs. Immediately you began to cough, dispelling the water you’d ingested past your burning throat. Michael wrapped his arm around your throat and yanked you to hold you to him. The grip was light enough not to constrict your breathing, but you were too far gone to appreciate it, let alone realize the magic gluing you in place had been lifted.

        He continued to rub your clit, the overstimulation linking with the oxygen deprivation and near-drowning experience to force you into a floaty headspace where nothing made sense. Static buzzed in your ears and your vision was overtaken by a flash of white. Everything hurt—yet, you’d never felt so high up in the clouds.

        More water pushed past your lips just as you were dragged into the depths of a second release. You would have collapsed if it hadn’t been for Michael holding you up, pinning you against his body as he continued to thrust up into you, his grunts fizzling through the static to reach your ears. You thought you might have heard some semblance of words but couldn’t make them out through everything beating you into a pile of malleable clay to be molded by his hands.

        Rising higher and higher, everything around you blanked out until you were no longer aware of anything. Maybe he actually had killed you, and this was a sort of limbo space before you would be dragged back to Papa Legba, forced to relive your very worst nightmares over and over again for the rest of eternity.

        Would he leave your body there, or would he dispose of you? Would Cordelia, Mallory, and Myrtle eventually return to the academy to find you cold on the bathroom floor, surrounded by water and marked by the beast?

        Your lashes fluttered as the static surrounding you started to fizzle out. The first thing you heard was your ragged breathing, your lungs still crying out for precious air, your chest heaving as you struggled to give them what they needed. Then his voice floated inside your head. It started out as a mere whisper, muffled like you were still held under the water, but gradually became more clear.

        “You’re okay, (Y/N). Breathe with me.”

        Then you felt him. Felt his lips pressing against your temple and your cheek. You felt his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm, felt the thrum of his heart in his chest. An arm was wrapped around your waist. His fingers brushed through your hair, keeping it out of your face.

        You blinked heavily as more of the world returned to you. Your head was lolled back on his shoulder. His cologne filtered through your nose. Your lips parted as a quiet moan slipped past them, your tongue heavy in your mouth.

        He tightened his hold around your waist. “Breathe with me,” he repeated, taking in slow, deep breaths. Unable to do much else, you focused on following his pattern until your own breathing had evened out. “Good girl. There’s my little witch.”

        Clarity starts to bleed back into your system now that your brain was getting an adequate supply of oxygen. You silently took in your surroundings through heavy eyes, trying to fit the pieces of the puzzle together. Michael had you between his legs as he sat on the ledge of the bathtub. Your cunt ached in a way that only came from being fucked beautifully, and you could feel the sticky liquid seeping out to coat your inner thighs. You were empty now, meaning he was no longer inside of you.

        “What—” You winced at the rawness of your throat, the raspiness of your voice. “What the actual fuck, Langdon?”

        Michael chuckled softly, nuzzling his nose against your cheek. The intimate feel of it made you shudder. His chest rumbled with the sound. “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten your manners already, princess,” he said. “I’d be more than happy to remind you.”

        You rolled your head away from him. “Fuck off, Michael,” you scowled, spitting his name like it left a vile taste in your mouth.

        His hand shot out to grab your jaw, twisting your head back around to face him. Crystal eyes met yours in a clash of hardened ice that made your stomach lurch. Your breath hitched in your throat, lips parting to let loose the last of it before the rest got stuck in your windpipe.

        “Don’t mistake my mercy for weakness, little witch,” he said coolly. “You’re only alive because I’ve made it so. Watch your tongue.”

        Michael suddenly pushed you off of him. Legs still shaky, you stumbled but kept on your feet. He stood to his full height as you whirled around to face him. It was with a rush of disdain that you took note of his put-together appearance. He looked as he did when he first barged into the bathroom. Then there was you—drowned in the water that filled your lungs, bathrobe hanging open, flesh on display with pretty bruises blossoming against your abused skin and lashes clumped with teary remnants.

        He sauntered up to you as you fumbled with the tie on your robe. His hand wrapped around the column of your throat, pulling you closer to him. You resisted the urge to shove him off of you, a heavy realization of being totally, completely fucked draping over you.

        Michael Langdon owned you. You were his to do with as he pleased.

        “What a pretty little thing you are,” he mused, smirking at the way your pulse fluttered beneath your touch. Your fire hadn’t yet been snuffed out, but you had the good sense to bite your tongue, even if he could hear all of the insults you wished to throw at him passing through your mind. “Tell me, (Y/N)—who do you belong to?”

        You swallowed thickly against his hand. “You, Michael,” you said softly. “I belong to you.”

[saintlucretia]

Devil Wears A Suit

part Ⅰ

Pairings: Outpost!Michael Langdon x Female!Reader

Warnings: Mention of murder. Hot devil's son. Sexual harassment? Michael Langdon.

Summary: Y/N is a purple at Outpost 3 and gets interviewed by Mr. Langdon.

A/N: I will go to hell for this and I am not opposing if he will be there too.

After 18 months at the underground Outpost life was as dreadful as being killed by a bomb explosion. Or worse. A bunch of snobs and shallow cowards. It was clear as day, that it was just a matter of time before everyone was at each other's throats. 

It wasn’t the Outpost itself or the fact that we are the last human beings on this planet that made everything so depressing. It was boredom. A hole in my head. The only bearable person here was Mr. Gallant. Without his company at the dining table, I could have stuck a fork into my neck.

That evening Ms. Venable announced to us about a visitor. The agent of the Cooperative. Even though she remained calm as usual I sensed a note of fear in her voice. So it means this new man has great authority. I was grateful for any kind of entertainment, even if it meant a bloody revolution. After 18 months with the same people, fresh meat is always dainty.

Ms. Venable ended her speech when a tall man with long blond hair entered the room. He had a dark aura. The aura of power.

“My name is Langdon and I represent The Cooperative,” he said, circling our table. “Humanity is on the brink of failure.”

I glanced at the other residents of the Outpost. They all looked tense and nervous, especially Ms. Venable. She seemed almost afraid of him. Only Mr. Gallant seemed as amused as me. We glanced at each other and I immediately understood what was on his mind. After all, he had a good taste in men.

“My arrival here was crucial to the survival of civilized life on Earth.” His speech was persuasive, words sharp and his blue eyes pierced into all of us. Such an ability to capture everyone's attention was making me delighted.

He stopped at the head of the table and continued. “The three other compounds have been overrun and destroyed.”

“What happened to the people inside?” asked Timothy worried. 

“Massacred,” answered Langdon and I think I caught the shadow of a grin on his face.

I bit my lip to stop myself from chuckling. I had to admit, this Langdon was a very attractive man. And Mr. Gallant was obviously admiring his appearance too. But there was something about The Cooperative representative that made me feel uneasy. It was as if he was hiding something. Something very bad. 

“In the knowledge that this very moment might occur, we built a failsafe… The Sanctuary,” he said, placing his hands behind his back. “I have been sent to determine if any of you are worthy and fit to join us. The Cooperative has developed a particular and rigorous questioning technique we like to call ‘Cooperating’. Simply, I will determine if you belong.”

I remained silent, analyzing the situation. Everyone seemed wary and looked at others with distrust. Only Coco didn’t have enough brains to remain silent and tried to openly express her dissatisfaction. Fortunately, her tirade was abruptly suppressed.

“I volunteer to go first.” Mr. Gallant raised his hand. 

“And so you shall,” Langdon said threateningly, looking us over. He had a cold, calculating look in his eyes. I had a feeling that he already knew who he was going to select.

“The process should only take me a couple of days, so you won’t be kept in suspense forever. I look forward to meeting each and every one of you.” I felt his gaze on me and barely restrained myself from looking away. 

Langdon left the room and everyone immediately started to argue. A bunch of morons, all of them. I rolled my eyes and leaned back in my chair, observing the conversation. Everyone began to share their suspicions and guesses, but of course, they were all too wrapped up in their own fear to notice the whole thing. The Cooperative looked at us as laboratory rats and no one seemed to see that. Pathetic. 

I let out a sigh of annoyance and left the room.

                                                      ✦✦✦

I ran into Malcolm in the hallway an hour later and looked at him questioningly. 

“Oh, darling, I almost had a heart attack." He came closer and started whispering "I'm a bit scared of him. He is definitely hot as hell, but twice as evil."

I chuckled. "Well, that's quite a review. Did he tell you anything new?"  

Mr. Gallant leaned even closer and lowered his voice to a whisper. "He asked me a lot of personal questions...I mean really personal."  

I raised an eyebrow. "Like what?"

“Like my sexuality for example. And my nana. And other… things. Pretty intimate. I felt so uncomfortable, but I tried to keep it cool.” 

My eyebrows furrowed in interest. So these "Cooperating" sessions were, indeed, quite unique. It seemed like Langdon wanted to know every minuscule detail about each person. I began to wonder what kind of "personal" questions he would ask me. I also began to wonder why I was so looking forward to the moment. 

“I felt like he was trying to rip out my soul.” Added Malcolm in a whisper.

I smirked. "Well, that's quite a dramatic way to describe it." Malcolm chuckled nervously but I had a feeling that he wasn't exaggerating. Langdon was certainly not the type of man that you could fool easily. He could see right through people.

But something was intriguing. I felt a strange thrill at the idea of uncovering the depth of Langdon's scrutiny. 

 "I guess I'll have to brace myself for my turn then," I said nonchalantly.

“Good luck sweetheart.” We kissed each other on the cheek and went in different directions.

I slowly walked to my quarters, lost in thought. I was feeling an inexplicable mixture of excitement and curiosity. The thought of being examined by Langdon, being exposed under the watchful gaze of his sharp eyes, was somehow appealing. God, I have to stop.

I shook my head firmly, trying to dismiss these thoughts. "This is ridiculous," I mumbled to myself softly.

Suddenly I heard something. Something like a scream perhaps. I stopped and looked around. There was no one except me in this dimly lit hall. And then this sound again. More like a whisper now. Millions of whispers. My head began to spin slightly. I closed my eyes and tried to focus. Silence. Everything went quiet. I turned around and flinched as I saw Langdon behind me.

“Mrs. Y/S, I’d like to talk with you next.” 

I looked up at Langdon with a surprised expression, silently cursing myself for being so lost in my thoughts to the point of not noticing him coming closer. His presence was so powerful that it still made my heart flutter even now.

"Lead the way," I replied, trying to maintain my composure. 

Langdon didn't bother answering, simply gesturing for me to follow him. I walked behind him through the maze of halls and rooms. 

We finally reached the entrance to what appeared to be his cabinet. Langdon stepped aside, allowing me to enter first. Entering the room, I noticed how dark and ominous it felt. The walls were lined with bookshelves, filled with old leather-bound volumes. The main source of light was a fireplace.

Langdon gestured for me to sit down on the armchair across from him. I lowered myself gently, straightening my purple dress. 

He studied me, wanted me to be nervous, wanted me to crack. I knew this game. I have played this game with many different powerful men, who think they are Gods because they have dicks. I never lose in a game like this.

His eyes searched my face, trying to find any sign of weakness. But I held his gaze firmly, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing me intimidated.

I leaned back in my seat, a small smirk on my lips. "I see you're expecting me to be quivering in my boots," I said with a hint of sarcasm.

Langdon chuckled darkly. "Is that so?" he asked, leaning slightly forward. 

A silence fell between us, and I held his gaze without flinching. Something about his demeanor made my heart beat a little faster, but I was determined not to show it.

“I prefer conversations to be effective, Mr. Langdon.”

Langdon raised an eyebrow at my remark, a smirk forming his lips. He leaned back in his seat, folding his arms across his chest. "Straight to the point, are we?" 

He studied me for a moment, his eyes still locked onto mine.

"Well, I can appreciate a straightforward woman," he said, his voice surprisingly smooth. "It makes the process much more efficient."

He paused for a moment, his gaze never faltering. "Ms. Y/S," he began, my name rolling off his tongue like a sinful whisper. "Allow me to ask you a personal question."

“Ask,” I replied.

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk. His eyes were laser-focused on me, and I could practically feel his gaze trying to pierce through my soul. 

"What do you fear the most?" he asked, his tone almost gentle.

I was caught off guard by the question and made a mistake. Langdon noticed the slight flicker of surprise in my eyes. He chuckled softly. "That's what I thought," he said, a hint of satisfaction in his voice. "You may have mastered the art of bravado, but everyone has a weakness," he continued. "And I'm here to find yours." 

I watched him back and after crossing my legs answered "I fear being surrounded by idiots for the rest of my life." I needled.

Langdon raised an eyebrow, visibly amused. "Well, you certainly have a way with words, don't you?", he said, his lips curling into a smirk.

He leaned back in his seat, studying me closely. "Being trapped in a group of lesser minds for eternity may be torturous, especially for a woman of your... intelligence."

“For a man of your power, it’s a pity that you use flattery as a term of manipulation,” I said, tilting my head in a mocking manner. 

Langdon chuckled, clearly enjoying the challenge. "Ah, so observant," he said, still maintaining his smirk. 

He leaned slightly forward, his gaze never leaving mine. "I'm not just using flattery, Ms. Y/S. I do recognize your intellect. But don't mistake my compliments for manipulation. I simply use the tools at my disposal."

“Huh.”

Langdon chuckled again, clearly appreciating my dry response. "You have a sharp tongue," he said, his voice dripping with amusement. “It may be your unique feature or a pathetic attempt to hide your fear.”

I could feel a flicker of irritation at his words, but I forced myself to remain impassive. Langdon was trying to get a reaction out of me, and I was determined not to give him the satisfaction.

"Perhaps it's a little bit of both," I replied, my voice cool and steady. "Or perhaps you're simply not used to people who don't cower easily in front of someone higher in rank."

He stood up from his seat and started circling me slowly, the sound of his footsteps echoing through the room. “Be careful, Ms. Y/S. Your bold attitude is admirable, but at some point, this can play a cruel joke on you.”  His gaze burned into me as he studied me from every possible angle.

“I appreciate the warning,” I said coldly. “I don't fear intimidation tactics.”

“You are a brave woman.” Langdon's voice was suddenly close behind me, his breath lingering on the nape of my neck. A small shiver ran down my spine, and I had to suppress the urge to turn around and look at him.

“A little too brave, some would say.” he continued, his words almost a whisper. “Tell me, Ms. Y/S, is it hard to be the smartest in the room? To be forced to communicate with idiots?”

There was a hint of mockery in his tone that made me nauseous. But I still refused to let him see any sign of weakness. I sat up straighter in my chair, lifting my chin.

“It can be... annoying at times,” I admitted.

“It is irritating how arrogant the upper class is, isn’t it? Especially toward women.” I felt the touch of his fingers on my arm and I barely restrained myself from snatching my hand away. “The world before the bombs wasn’t that much brighter than this one, was it? They all mistreated you, and never took you seriously… Does the idea of them having everything infuriate you?”

His words hit a nerve, the subtle truth in them cutting through my defenses. Yes, the world before the bombings was far from perfect, and I had my fair share of disappointments.

But I wouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing that he had managed to hit a weak spot. I turned my head slightly, meeting his gaze. “And what makes you think you're any different from them?”

He chuckled darkly, his fingers trailing along my skin, tracing patterns against the fabric of my dress. His nonchalant arrogance was both infuriating and strangely enthralling. 

“Oh, I never claimed to be any different," he responded, his voice low and husky. “But I will say this - I appreciate intelligence, especially in women. I can see your potential.”

“Potential,” I repeated, struggling to keep my tone even. “For what, exactly?”

Langdon ignored my question. His hands, now both on my arms, crawled up to my shoulders. “Have you ever thought about punishing them? About finally showing what you are capable of, so they would never think you are only ‘pretty face’ again?” His breath tickled my ear. “Have you ever thought about making them scared of you?”

His hands on my shoulders were deceptively gentle, yet they seemed to burn against my skin through the fabric of my dress. His breath was warm against my ear as he whispered his words, making my breath hitch in my throat. 

I felt a strange mixture of anger and... excitement at his words. The thought had crossed my mind more than once if I was being honest with myself. To show them ALL how strong and brilliant I truly was. To shuffle a knife into someone’s throat. I remained silent. 

“I sense this force in you, Y/N.”

His voice seemed to fill the space between us, wrapping around me like a dark, intimate spell. He leaned closer, his chest almost pressed against my back. His hands remained on my shoulders, his fingers gently massaging my tense muscles. 

There was something about his voice, the way he said my name, that sent a shiver down my spine. It was as if he could see right through me, past the cool exterior I had been trying to maintain. He knew about the anger, the desire, the fire burning within me.

“I can tell you have a dark side,” he murmured, his voice deep and low. 

“I-I don’t know what you are talking about.” 

“Yes, you do.” His hands continue to stroke my shoulders gently. He was amused by my denial.

“You don't have to play coy with me, Ms. Y/N," he said, his voice velvety smooth. “I can feel it radiating off of you. That simmering anger, that burning desire."

Langdon leaned in closer, his lips almost brushing against my ear. “You want... power. And I can promise you that.”

His words were a seductive murmur, weaving their way into my mind and planting thoughts of power and revenge. It was as if he knew exactly what buttons to push, what desires to awaken within me. 

"Power," I repeated, my voice barely above a whisper. My mind was swimming, both alarmed and intrigued by his proposal. I felt like I was hypnotized. "Why… What’s the point?"

Langdon chuckled softly, noticing the effect his words were having on me. He stepped away from me, his hands finally leaving my shoulders. He walked around the chair, standing in front of me again.

"Because, my dear," he began, "I've observed your potential. Your intelligence, your resourcefulness, your strength. You're not like the other people in this house. You have ambition. And ambition can lead to power."

He tilted up my chin gently, so I could meet his gaze. "And I can help you achieve it." His thumb traced my jawline, sending a shiver down my spine.

When his finger brushed against my bottom lip I grabbed his hand, stopping him. He smirked and leaned closer, his face only a few inches away from mine.

“Something wrong, Ms. Y/S?” he asked, his tone laced with mockery. “Did my touch... unsettle you?”

With a swift, almost graceful movement, Langdon sank to his knees in front of me. His hand found its way to my knee, the warmth of his palm seeping through the fabric of my dress.

“I think the interview is over,” I said, trying to stand up, but he pressed on my knee, not letting me get up.

“I will decide if it’s over or not, Ms. Y/S,” Langdon smirked at my silence, slowly running his hand higher up my thigh. He could clearly see the effect he was having on me, the slight tremble in my body.

“What?” he drawled, his voice dripping with mockery. “No witty comeback? No clever quip? Seems like you're losing your grip.”

"Losing my grip?" I repeated, trying to keep my voice steady. "Hardly. I am just amused by your behavior." Even a blind person would see my bluff and feign confidence.

“Oh? Really?” He stood up a bit, leaning closer to my face, almost whispering in my mouth. His proximity was intoxicating, his breath hot against my lips. I could feel my heart pounding against my ribcage, the desire coursing through my veins like a current. He slowly brushed his lips against mine and I felt a touch of his tongue on my bottom lip. 

It felt like drugs. It felt better than drugs. His tongue teasingly tracing along my bottom lip sent a shiver down my spine, making my legs tremble beneath me. It was overwhelming. I have never felt like this before. In that very second I could do anything for this man.

Suddenly he stopped and looked me right into my eyes, smirking satisfiedly almost like he read a thought that just got in my mind.

He stood up, turning away from me and I bit my tongue not to moan in disappointment. 

“We’re done for today, Ms. Y/S. It was a pleasure talking to you,” He said, opening the door for me. Smirk remained on his face, but Langdon seemed very calm. As if he didn’t just kneel and almost kiss me two minutes ago. 

I needed a few seconds to understand what had happened, so I blinked and then quickly stood up walking toward the door.

“Hope you have a good night, Ms. Y/S,” he said watching me and I can swear, as he was saying that, his hand slid to cover his groin and he definitely wanted me to notice that. 

“Good night, Mr. Langdon,” I mumbled and left the room. 

What the fuck has just happened?

part two

[dietcokeangel2004]

Michael Langdon x reader

I know (I know) you belong to somebody new, but tonight you belong to me.

Although (although) we're apart, you're a part of my heart and tonight you belong to me

~ Tonight you belong to me by Patience & Prudence

[americanwh0rerstory]

THE ANTICHRISTS FAVOURITE

Michael langdon x f!reader: platonic pairing

SUMMARY: reader and michael were best friends long ago. so when he shows up at outpost 3, what will happen?

CONTENT WARNING: none

A/N: i hate writing for michael because i can never perfect his character, but i need to get better at writing him for kinktober </3

NO NSFW ENJOY THE FIC

you had known michael for many years. forever his number 1 defender, and forever his best friend

you brought out the slither of goodness in him. he tried to suppress the evil urges and intentions, but for you he was good. occasionally you’d receive the odd dead rodent, but it was from michael so you never once complained

one day, however, he just disappeared. you never saw him again. constance refused to speak of him, and you couldn’t ever talk to the other ghosts of the murder house. save from moira, that was.

you never forgot michael. you never forgot the happy feeling you got when he was around, you never forgot that child-like grin he’d flash when he’s happy, you never forgot the gut wrenching feeling that flooded you when you realised he was gone. even years later you’d still cry over him, wondering what happened to your best friend

the world ended. you never got to say goodbye. you was hauled off to outpost 3 never knowing what happened to michael, you desperately hoped he would be there but he wasn’t. it was over, michael was gone…

for 18 more months.

when the long haired and mysterious man entered the outpost on behalf of the cooperative, it took you by surprise. something about him screamed familiarity yet you couldn’t place your finger on it

when addressing your living companions, his gaze lingered on you a few times but never for long. there was something in those seducing eyes that piqued your interest, something you wanted to get lost in. however you was soon snapped out of your trance when he said his name

“i am michael langdon” he said with confidence, the confidence of a natural born leader, someone with power, someone who could make heads then just from the way he carried himself.

it got even worse when the interviews began. you was second in the queue so whilst Mr. Gallant was being interviewed, all you felt was that sickly anxious feeling combining with the thumping in your chest. your heart sounded nearly like a hummingbird with how fast it was beating.

———————————————————————-

“take a seat” michael began when you entered his office, motioning to the conveniently placed chair. however you couldn’t hold back and wrapped him up in a tight hug, mumbling something about how much you missed him

after a moment of hesitation he returned the hug with one arm, holding you gently against his chest

“im not here for affectionate reunions Y/N. i still need to interview you for the position” he reminded you as he pulled away, towering over you with his imposing figure.

he practically probed into your brain with his question, asking invasive questions that made you question yourself. but it was necessary. you wanted, no, NEEDED that position. you needed to spend time with michael again

his cold and calculating gaze never left you for even a second, analysing your every move. every subtle twitch, the goosebumps rising on the back of your neck, the nervous tick you had of scratching your fingers. he saw it all.

“you’re different to what i remember. in the way you carry yourself, i mean” he begins. “a shell of your former self, more meek than you were ever before” he finished, stating it factually like the observational person he was

“that concludes the interview though. you may leave. i’ll see you soon”

it didn’t end there though. you snuck out of your bedroom that night, making your way to where michael was staying. you had to see him, just one final moment with him. just closure for the years of separation, at least that’s what you told yourself.

he was sleeping peacefully, laying flat on his back with his arms pressed to his sides. it looked almost corpselike with how stiff he seemed to be when he slept. but the second you closed the door behind you, his eyes snapped open.

“what’re you doing here? you’re not allowed to be outside your room, let alone in mine” he scolded, eyebrows knitting with confusion as to why you were here. his lips pursed together in a thin line, holding back some harsher words he could use.

“i just needed the closure, i haven’t seen you in so long that i needed a final goodbye” you explain softly, standing by his bed. he shifted over to allow you to sit down, which you did when prompted

“well you’ve seen me now. i have a job to do, Y/N. my father sent me for a reason” he sighs “just go back to your quarters, we have plenty of time tomorrow to ‘see’ each other” he dismissed you, but he noticed the frown that threatened to break out on your lips

“did i get in?” you ask as you grasp the doorhandle, ready to leave. your eyes were trained on michael as he settled himself back into his bed

“you was always in. i just needed everyone else to think they had a chance” michael admitted after a careful moment of hesitation, reluctant to tell you that fact.

“just don’t tell anyone, i’d like them to think this is non-biased. goodnight, Y/N

[velangdon]

✧.*Velangdon navigation✧.*

Welcome to my page!

Hi! My name is Vela and I'm so glad you visited my blog. Here I will be publishing my fanfictions, POVs and AUs inspired by Cody Fern and most of his characters.

I'm a novice writer, and English is not my first language. However, I love to write and even though English is not something I'm very good at, I'll do my best to offer a pleasant reading experience of my stories. ♡

My updates for my fanfics, POVs and AUs will usually be pretty quick. I will try not to make you wait too long.

I have my "Dreamy Ideas" box open where you can send me some requests if you'd like me to write something specific for you. I write almost everything, including smut (albeit not too explicit), but feel free to ask for everything you might like. I'll do my best to make your wishes come true. ♡

✧.*FANFICS✧.*:

1.AMATIVE → Michael Langdon Fanfic x OC Fem!

[king-with-no-crovvn]

I miss writing so, so much, and I still have so many ideas all these years later! Is anyone out there still reading for Michael Langdon these days??