#Michael Langdon Drabble

[redroses07]

AHS boys cuddling headcanons. <3

A/N: Hey guys! I'm back from my year long hiatus! It's been a crazy year for me and I've been through a lot of ups and downs but I'm finally back! Expect me to be posting a lot now because I have a TON of ideas. Anyways, enjoy this little drabble! Love y'all!

Contains: Tate Langdon, Kit Walker, Kyle Spencer, Jimmy Darling, James Patrick March, Kai Anderson, Michael Langdon, and Xavier Plympton.

Tate Langdon:

This boy is definitely a little spoon.

Constantly asks you to hold him in your arms.

You, personally love this, and happily wrap your arms around him lovingly.

Places soft kisses on your fingers while you trace his features.

Absolutely LOVES when you play with his hair, he practically begs for it.

Now don't think he's always going to be the one being held, that's just what he prefers.

If you're feeling down he'll pull you into his chest, and hold you like something's going to take you from him (his abandonment issues showing)

Loves kissing your neck while cuddling.

Kit Walker:

Kit is truly the most loving partner you could ask for and cuddling with you is one of his favorite things in the whole world.

Likes to see your pretty face so prefers that you two lay facing each other.

Softly tells you all the things he loves about you while pressing kisses to your nose, lips, cheeks, and forehead.

When I tell you his hands would be all over you, I mean ALL OVER. He loves to trace his fingers down your arms, torso and stomach.

Kit also likes to sneak his hands under your shirt when your laying together, and he often falls asleep with them like that.

Cannot fall asleep unless his hands are on you in some way (will not lose you like he lost Alma)

Anyways Kit is amazing and I am in love with him.

Pre-death Kyle Spencer:

Tbh he's my least favorite Evan character so apologies if this sucks.

For some reason I feel like he loves to nuzzle his face in your neck, and he often falls asleep like that.

Lets you lay on his lap while he works on schoolwork, and starts playing with your hair when he loses focus.

Loves when you sit in his lap, he will pull you in his lap literally anywhere. No matter if you're alone, or with your friends he feels the best when you're comfortably situated on his lap.

Jimmy Darling:

Big spoon!!!!!!

Loves when you straddle his waist or wrap your arms around his neck.

Really loves to feel as close to you as possible so he'll tangle your bodies together in every possible way.

One would think it would be hard to get comfortable like that but your comfort is Jimmy's #1 priority, even if that means sacrificing his own.

So if that means his arm falls asleep or his leg cramps, that's okay! as long as you're co. mfortable.

Jimmy loves to kiss your cheeks, and when he's in a silly mood he quickly switches between the two. This leaves you flustered, and in a fit of giggles.

James Patrick March

You wouldn't expect it but James LOVES cuddling with you.

On the outside he seems like he would be cold and dismissive in a relationship but you are his EVERYTHING.

Loves when you lay on top of him and he can comfortably wrap his arms around you.

Constantly whispers to you how much he loves and adores you and would do anything for you (In love with his accent)

Probably not surprising but he likes to leave marks all over you, and not just during sex.

Will bite and suck on your skin while you're cuddling. His favorite place to leave marks is your collarbone.

He sees this as an intimate act, and loves the idea that people will know you belong to him.

Kai Anderson

Lets be real...this man is not a cuddler. To be honest he only cares about you when he's trying to make the messiah baby.

But occasionally he'll be extremely overwhelmed with cult responsibilities and will turn to you for condolences.

Holds you while he vents to you about his frustrations.

Plays with your hair or fiddles with the straps of your tank top to distract himself.

Will also ask you about your day to give him something else to think about.

These are the few times when Kai shows his vulnerable side.

Will kiss your shoulders while you tell him about your day, or give him cult advice.

Michael Langdon:

I love Michael so much y'all he's literally my husband.

Cuddling can go either way with him tbh. Sometimes it's him holding you, and sometimes it's you holding him.

When he holds you he pulls you into him and traces is fingers along your back.

Loves to intertwine your fingers and tightly grip your hand. It makes him feel closer and more connected to you.

Cuddling is when you and Michael have your most intimate bonding moments. When you spill your deepest thoughts and secrets to each other.

On the other hand, when the pressure on Michael is too much, he wants you to hold him.

He cries softly, and stuffs his face into your chest in an effort to hide his tears.

When life just becomes too much for him being held and kissed by you makes everything feel okay.

This is a weird one but I feel like he'd have you brush his hair (I love long hair Michael don't hate).

Xavier Plympton:

Likes to listen to music while cuddling, and will softly sing along if he knows the lyrics.

Will also tap on your back along to the beat.

Likes when you lay your head on his chest and drape your legs over his.

Loves to talk while cuddling, telling you everything that comes to his mind.

He talks, you listen, and that's what he loves about you.

Takes breaks in between his various rants to kiss the top of your head and make sure you're comfortable.

[wordsaresimple-imnot]

Masterlist

American Horror Story

AU!AHS multi-chapter

War meets Death - Michael Langdon x O/C Female **Currently on pause

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Band of Brothers

Drunken Confessions - Bill Guarnere x F!Reader (1st person POV, male and female) one-shot, fluff

The next day - Bill Guarnere x F!Reader, Drunken Confessions pt 2, one-shot *smut*

Green Dress - Bill Guarnere x F!Reader (1st person POV, female) one-shot *smut*

Pen pal's - Bill Guarnere x F!Reader one-shot, fluff/slight angst

Truth or dare - Joe Toye x F!Reader (1st person POV, female) one-shot

The game continues - Joe Toye x F!Reader, Truth or dare pt 2, (1st person POV, female) one-shot *smut*

That final line - Joe Liebgott x F!Reader one-shot *smut*, fluff & angst

Oil and water - Joe Liebgott x F!Reader (1st person POV, female) requested one-shot *smut*, angst/fluff ending

Body heat - Joe Liebgott x F!Reader (1st person POV, female) requested one-shot, *smut*

In her arms - George Luz x F!Reader requested one-shot, angst/fluff ending

Leverage

New Hope - Eliot x Reader one-shot/drabble

[gllrimes]

𝑾𝒆𝒍𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝑬𝒍𝒊𝒐’𝒔 𝒃𝒍𝒐𝒈!

𝑹𝒖𝒍𝒆𝒔:

I will be writing smut, fluff, comfort, and angst. I'm not experienced with writing as much as other writers are, so don't expect the best.

No sa or rape of any sort because we don't tolerate that.

No piss/shit/fart kinks ya dirty fucks.

No pedophilia. Age gaps only can consist of five years apart in my story's when 18+

No human servitude.

I write for any sexuality and any gender.

I do write drabbles and hcs.

I don't write agere/little space on this blog, I'll set up another blog for that!!

I don't care how old you are I can't stop you from reading my stuff 😕🙏🏻

Requests are open!!

𝑭𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒐𝒎𝒔 & 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒔 𝑰'𝒍𝒍 𝒘𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒆 𝒇𝒐𝒓

The Walking Dead:

Rick Grimes

Carl Grimes

Daryl Dixon

Negan Smith

Glenn Rhee

Ron Anderson

Enid Rhee

Maggie Rhee

Michonne Grimes

(Bonus: I might write for others too. Maybe Shane idk.)

The End Of The Fucking World:

Alyssa Foley

James (last name unknown)

Heartstopper:

Charlie Spring

Nick Nelson

Tao Xu

Elle Argent

Darcy Olsson

Tara Jones

Sahar Zahid

Issac Henderson

13 Reasons Why:

Clay Jenson

Hannah Baker

Justin Foley

Alex Standall

Jessica Davis

IT:

Bill Denbrough

Richie Tozier

Beverly Marsh

Stanley Uris

Mike Hanlon

Henry Bowers

Patrick Hockstetter

Victor Criss

Belch Huggins

The Flash (IMDb):

Berry Allen

Cisco Ramon

Caitlin Snow

Harry Potter:

Harry Potter

Hermione Granger

Ron Weasley

Fred Weasley

George Weasley

Draco Malfoy

Tom Riddle

James Potter

Remus Lupin

Sirius Black

Mattheo Riddle

Theodore Nott

Regulas Black

Stranger Things:

Mike Wheeler

Will Byers

Jonathan Byers

Nancy Wheeler

Lucas Sinclair

Dustin Henderson

Steve Harrington

Henry Creel

Eleven

Eddie Munson

Criminal Minds:

Spencer Reid

Aaron Hotchner

Derek Morgan

Penelope Garcia

Jennifer Jareau

Twilight:

Bella Swan

Edward Cullen

Jasper Hale

Alice Cullen

Rosalie Hale

Carlisle Cullen

Emmett Cullen

Jacob Black

Seth Clearwater

Esme Cullen

Thirteen:

Tracy Freeland

Evie Zamora

Mason Freeland

Melanie Freeland

Anne With An E:

Gilbert Blythe

Anne Shirley

Dianna Berry

Cole Mackenzie

Jerry Baynard

The Goldfinch:

Theodore Decker (older and younger)

Boris Pavlikovsky (older and younger)

The Turning:

Miles Fairchild

Kate Mandell

Flora Fairchild (NO SMUT)

When You Finish Saving The World:

Ziggy Katz

Lila

American Horror Story:

Tate Langdon

Violet Harmon

Kit Walker

Lana Winters

Zoe Benson

Kyle Spencer

Cordelia Goode

Fiona Goode

Jimmy Darling

James Patrick March

Elizabeth/The Countess

Kai Anderson

Winter Anderson

Ally Mayfair-Richards

Austin Sommers

Mr. Gallant

Edward Mott

Rory Monahan

Shameless:

Fiona Gallagher

Lip Gallagher

Ian Gallagher

Mickey Milkovich

Mandy Milkovich

Carl Gallagher

I Believe In Unicorns:

Davina

Sterling

Tokio Hotel:

Bill Kaulitz

Tom Kaulitz

Georg Listing

Gustav Schäfer

Slashers/Halloween movies characters:

Max Dennison

Billy Loomis

Stu Macher

Sydney Prescott

Bo Sinclair

Lester Sinclair

Vincent Sinclair

Jason Voorhees

Freddy Kruger

Michael Myers

Jason Dean

Patrick Bateman

Brahms Heelshire

BONUS singers/actors/youtubers:

Sam Golbach

Colby Brock

Jake Webber

Albert (flamingo)

The Sturniolo Triplets

Finn Wolfhard

Noah Schnapp

And finally... ALEX TURNER 😋😋 (he's so husband material)

!!PLEASE USE THIS RESPECTFULLY AND WISELY!!

[mistysconcilium]

⋆.˚ ꪆৎ .𖥔˚ american horror story guys ⋆.˚ ꪆৎ .𖥔˚

— tate langdon

a scary movie — drabble l fluff

child!tate & child!reader — drabble l fluff

— kyle spencer

instagram au’s; 01 02

ice skating — drabble l fluff

— michael langdon

first halloween — headcanons l fluff

love, elisabet

[venusxxlangdon]

Of Mice & Snakes - part 3

I can't believe that I'm actually typing this but today after I re-read the first two parts of Mice & Snakes that I had written 4 years ago, I decided that I was aching to finish this series. I mean...not necessarily in 10k word chapter like I used to write before but in…something. A drabble, or maybe a proper epilogue (of course, spicy). I don’t know yet. For now I only have two sentences in my notes that sum everything up.  

Part 1 and Part 2 are one of the best things I have ever written and the main plot line behind them has not been unfolded yet. 

I don’t know when I will get it done, but I will. Even if nobody’s gonna read it. I just need to properly close this gestalt.

For the inspiration, I might also post some of the collages in the coming days/weeks to get you and myself (primarily) back into the universe of Tom Riddle x Michael Langdon x reader. I have missed them.  

See you ;) Part Three - "The Snake" will see the light.

[wroteclassicaly]

20 Questions For Fic Writers

Thank you for the tag, lovely! @morningberriesao3

1) How many works do you have on AO3? - Unsure of the exact number, but 20+?

2) What’s your total AO3 word count? - Unsure, but I know 100,000 +?

3) What fandoms do you write for? - American Horror Story, Supernatural, The Walking Dead, Shameless, Stranger Things, Buffy & Angel.

4) What are your top five fics by kudos? - Ah, shit. Now I have to go find them, 😂

She’s Trouble

Untitled Steve fic

Ripe

And then the rest have just been drabbles, other stuff, etc.

5) Do you respond to comments? Why or why not? - I try to! If I don’t get them all it’s because I get overwhelmed!

6) What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? - Would have to be a tie between these three:

Get Going, Or Get Lost, I Won’t Stand By, Walk Until You Belong

7) What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? - The ones that aren’t angsty 😂 I think this one.

8) Do you get hate on fics? - Oh yeah, lmao.

9) Do you write smut? If so, what kinds? - All kinds. Rough, soft, funny, angsty, fluffy, hate, comfort, slow, fast, hard, etc.

10) Do you wrote crossovers? If so, what’s the craziest one you’ve written? - Not really. I had a Michael Langdon and Jack Kline crossover planned with a reader, but I never got to it. :/

11) Have you ever had a fic stolen? - Multiple times, lol.

12) Have you ever had a fic translated? - Once.

13) Have you ever co-written a fic before? - Yes!

14) What’s your all time favorite ship? - Gallavich and Steddie.

15) What’s a WIP that you want to finish, but doubt you ever will? - My Gator x ex-best-friend!reader fic. All of them, really… haha.

16) What are your writing strengths? - I think I’m good at smut and describing things.

17) What are your writing weaknesses? - I struggle with grammar (I love commas, lol) and dialogue.

18) Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? - Go for it!

19) First fandom you wrote for? - Buffy. But online? American Horror Story.

20) Favorite fic you’ve written? - That would be all three of my top five most kudos fics! Well… the three of them! See above! I’m also in love with some of the WIP’s I’ve worked on.

No pressure tags: @loveshotzz @dandelioninajungle @moonbeamsandmayhem @corrodedcorpses @courtingchaos @jo-harrington @prettyboyeddiemunson @littledemondani @aphrogeneias @onegirlmanytales @bettyfrommars @lofaewrites @carolmunson @succubusmunson @pastel-pillows @andvys @groubee @myosotisa @stevenose @palmtreesx3 @thornsnvultures @eddiemunsonspantschain @word-wytch @justmeinadaze @lonelysatellites whoever else wants to!

[sojournlangdon]

What are your sins?

Sojourn!Michael Langdon x gender neutral reader

Warnings: mentions of death, light satanism (if that’s a thing)

Her voice is brash and grating. The garish red she wore could not be more fitting, with its loudness and lack of subtlety. You don’t know why you keep returning to this congregation. The admission process was a joke, which may explain the pitiful leader and members. Surely there was something better than this.

The creak of a door signalled a potential escapee. You feel relief on their part, and wonder what’s stopping you from doing the same. Her unblinking eyes and tense jaw turn to you. You feel your heartbeat more intensely following her question:

What are your sins?

Lips part, and shut. You blink too many times, and an awareness of it only worsens the behaviour. Why the fuck did you sit in the front row?

She looks at you with furrowed brows for a few counts, before opening the question to everyone. You feel heat brush over your face. So much for being above all of this.

The replies are almost as pathetic as your lack of one, petty theft, gun money and adultery. With the bar this low, your actions seem devilish. Were they? You don’t think so, but you decide to get a second opinion.

“Actually, I do have one.” The confidence in your voice is short-lived. She looks at you expectantly, and you feel the intrigue of the sad souls around you.

Voice small, you begin unclearly, before she demands that you speak up. The second time is better, desensitised.

“I killed him, I killed a person.”

You have their attention now, this was a step up in severity, to say the least. She grins, shouts her praise, and tells you to stand and inspire the ‘weaklings’.

You clear your throat, and try to diguise your trembling hands by holding them against the dark fabric brushing your thighs. Most everyone looks morbidly interested, but one unfamiliar face appears transfixed, desperate to hear the events.

Tangled, honey-tinted hair, light stubble framing parted full lips, glossy eyes so tired they looked bruised. You may be as equally as enthralled by him. You focus on the space around him, eyes flitting back to him to observe how he digests your story.

“It wasn’t senseless, or random. I may have planned it, but he well and truly deserved worse than what he got. To be honest, I was surprised by my own strength. I mean, keeping someone’s head underwater while they scratch and kick and bite is no easy feat. Drowning doesn’t happen in thirty seconds, and even after he stopped moving I had to hold him down - to make sure.”

You catch your breath, slightly dissociated, no longer aware of their reactions. You don’t know when to stop, so you keep going.

“It was yesterday, in the evening. He’s still there. But I drained the tub and refilled it with ice. I didn’t think about the fact that it would melt, though.”

Heat rises to your face a second time when you see him smile warmly at you, as if you said something endearing. You are once again brought back to reality, reluctantly noting the rest of the room. Some look nauseated, others inspired.

She once again litters you with praise as you return to your seat. For the remainder of the meeting, your mind is somewhere else entirely. You register movement around you as people start to leave, others staying for the shitty potluck. Arms crossed and eyes lowered, you languidly move towards the staircase. That was stupid, a stupid fucking thing to say in front of so many people. What if someone reports you, or tries to copy you or -

“Good riddance. To whoever it was. I’m sure you did the world a favour.” Up close, you can see just how disheveled and weary he looks. A gentle smile graces his features, and when you don’t reply, he gives a light nod and ascends the stairs.

You follow, reaching out to stop him, not willing to let him go just yet. The motion is messy, and you end up with the crumpled black shirtsleeve in your tight grip. Nice fucking going.

He stops suddenly, upper body twisting round. His raised eyebrows makes you cringe slightly, as you lean into the wall to let others filter past.

“I could use some help. You know, with the body. If you’re interested.” Another excellent move on your part.

His eyes soften, and you think he would have laughed if he was any less fatigued. He nods, tells you to lead the way. So you do. At some point during the walk home, you notice that your hands are loosely intertwined. You’ve been so fraught with nervous energy, that you don’t remember who moved first.

It’s quiet, mostly your own voice. You talk about where you live, potential dinner ideas, and that forensic psychology module you did once. He looks relieved when you insist that he takes a nap before anything else, and you when confirm that the shower is separate from the bath.

Only when you’re outside the building do you think to ask the blonde boy’s name, learning that it’s Michael. His delicate features work with his name, you decide.

“Like the Archangel. Cute.” He scoffs at that.

“Not quite. Really, I could prove you wrong there.”

[syven-siren]

Nighttime Interruptions

Summary: Michael and the reader are in desperate need of alone time but a certain monster get in the way. (Michael Langdon x Female!Reader)

Warnings: Smut and domestic fluff

Requested by anon: "Could you make an imagine where Micheal Langdon and fem reader are in the middle of nasty sex and y'alls daughter wakes up catching you both in the act, but Michael puts her back in bed and she questions you both in the morning on what daddy was doing to mommy?"

Short gasps leave your bruised lips and a light sheen of sweat does little to cool your heated flesh. As another sharp thrust pitches your legs further apart, your fingernails claw at the shoulders of your lover.

“Michael,” You whimper, something he never will tire of hearing.

His teeth bite harshly at the skin of your neck, leaving a string of red along the way. You clench around his member relentlessly, needily. Each time, it causes him to groan in appreciation. Michael pulls away from you, admiring your disheveled appearance.  

“Look at me.”

You do as he commands, your eyes meeting as he pounds into you roughly. Your toes curl, the coil in your stomach tightening. Gnawing your lower lip, you struggle to maintain eye contact. You’re so close and Michael doesn’t seem too far behind you as his hips stutter every few thrusts.

“M-mommy?”

Pushing Michael off suddenly, you throw the forgotten sheet around both your bare bodies. Michael teeters on the edge of the bed, grumbling under his breath.

“I can’t sleep,” Your daughter’s trembling voice pierces the air as she walks further in, “There’s a monster under the bed.” This incessant monster has haunted your daughter’s dreams for the past month and now seems to be interrupting your own nightly habits. “Can you check, please?”

Although agreeing to her request, you find it difficult to move. Your legs feel like jello and your hips ache as you struggle to get off the bed.

“Stay, (Y/N). You need a break,” Michael chuckles lowly. You easily catch the meaning of his words. “Come along, my little dove. Let’s chase those monsters away.”

You smile, watching the two exit the room. Falling back onto the bed, you gather your energy as your body tingles awaiting Michael to return. Unsure of how much time has passed, you are drawn from your quiet moment by large hands caressing your curves and soft lips trailing along your jaw.  

“Now where were we…”  

.

.

.

“Good morning, little one.” He kisses (Y/D/N)’s forehead before turning to give you one, “Morning, my love.”

“Good morning,” you and (Y/D/N) return.

The morning moves by slowly. Breakfast and conversation are passed around the dining table, only broken up by the soft giggles of your daughter.

“Daddy?”

“Yes?”

“What were you and mommy doing last night?”

You sputter, setting down your coffee and glancing at Michael. A small mischievous glint forms in his eye.

"Don’t," You mouth to him. He always has to see how far he can push the limits of your mortification.

“We were-”

“Wrestling,” You say pointedly, glaring at your husband.

“Yes, wrestling,” Michael chuckles at your embarrassment.

“When can I wrestle someone?” She asks innocently, not understanding the context of her words.

“When you're older.”  “Never.”

It’s now your turn to laugh at Michael’s discomfort. Your daughter begins to ramble on about Michael's unfairness. And much to your enjoyment, he battles her on the topic. He calls on you to help address the issue. Instead, you kiss his cheek and inform him that he is all on his own.

[hecohansen31]

okay but king!michael langdon, hiring a painter to paint him, and the reader arrived, prepared with all their materials. except, michael wants the reader to paint him as he jerks off 🥵🥵🥵

(A/N): Hello there, lovelies!

Sorry for taking quite some time with this ask!

And before I leave you, I just wanted to denounce myself with saying that this is highly unhistorically accurate, although I just wanted to give some shoutouts to badass Reinassance and Maniersm artist ladies: Sofonisba Angussola, without whom we wouldn’t have Caravaggio and the infamous Artemisia Gentileschi (I have seen live the ‘Judith kills Oloferne’ and let me tell you... IT IS FUCKING GORGEOUS!).

Also the iconography of Michael is taken from ‘San Michael catches from Heaven the fallen angels’ by Domenico Beccafumi,

A lot of women artists were also given by the place I study at, for which I am very proud!

This is all (sorry I just had to give an history lessons, because I love art history!), have a nice reading!

WARNINGS: Historically Inaccurate, Art, Mention of Sex-Masturbation, Voyeurism, Exhibitionism.

Being asked to paint a cardinal was a great honor for your father, no matter how much he tried to dissimulate his talent and his ambition with a soft smile and a wave of hand.

He could think that Rome wasn’t much, but you were enthralled by its beauty, the golden shining and the ruins standing tall no matter how much time had passed.

And then you had met cardinal Michael Borgia, the man who your father would have to portray in his time in Rome, the arriving point of his career, after he had started in a small city in the center of Italy, painting mostly churches and altar paintings.

But for you, it’d be a starting point.

Girls were always supposed to ‘work’ as dutiful mothers and daughters, if not wives, by a certain time, as they grew old enough to bear children, but when your mother had died when you were nothing but a child, your father had grown you as a boy, and as his rightful heir in the artistic surroundings.

He had taken in you as his rightful apprentice, and he had insisted that you followed him to Rome to sketch the cardinal in order for him then to complete the drawing.

You knew that if you did well, your father might even make you direct some of the works in his shop, coordinating with him.

And maybe one day, you’d be the one called in to paint a cardinal.

‘I hope so, little flower’ he had smiled, kissing your forehead before you set up in your small private rooms inside the Borgia palace.

So, you couldn’t help but feel extremely nervous when you had your first sitting with the cardinal, knowing perfectly how haughty cardinals could be, acting as if they owned the place.

And Michael Borgia wasn’t an exception.

He appeared in his red robes, smirking teasingly at you as you bowed at him, although surprise also shone on his face, evidently not used to female painters.

Many weren’t hence why your father hid you.

“Your Sanctity” you uttered breaking the uncomfortable silence as you moved slightly to show him the sitting chair, so that you could go back to hiding yourself behind your canvas, checking the colors and the brushes, till the cardinal coughed lightly to obtain your attention “… is there something wrong, my lord?”.

“I just thought that the great Francesco Savini would have been a man, not a gorgeous woman” you were damnably ashamed by the flush on your cheeks at his compliment.

You weren’t classically beautiful, even less in your work clothes, composed by pants and a light shirt, enough to allow you easier movements, so that you could comfortably paint and give your best.

“… my father is Francesco” you squeaked almost as a little mouse “… I am (Y/N) Savini, and I’ll take the first sketch of you, and then my father will complete the drawing”.

He looked at you curiously as if you were a new toy solely for him.

Ready to be broken.

And the thing made you feel extremely uneasy, although you hid it, backing up further till you hit your own sitting chair.

“… naturally that will be, if you don’t have a problem with me sketching you, monsignore”.

He shook his head lightly, his elegant curls softly catching the light of the first hours of the day, since you had insisted to set yourself up in a room with a huge window when the sun was at its peak in order to be helped in conjuring the man’s unearthly beauty.

Although he wasn’t as famous as his dark brother Cesare, Michael Borgia was known for his heavenly appearance and you could confirm it with the way his hair shone with the natural light and his eyes pierced through you in an almost feline gaze.

Certainly, he had a predatory gaze in them.

“No no, it won’t be a problem” you had expected him to protest, insist that he would like immediately to meet up with your father.

That he couldn’t trust an apprentice.

A woman even more.

But he simply sat down on the chair and you immediately went back to your canvas, sketching the beginning scheme, till you heard again the rustling of robes and thought nothing of it, thinking that the cardinal was simply getting himself comfortable, but the rustling continued and you peaked lightly your head from the canvas.

And found out that he had discarded the upper part of his robe, leaving his chest naked, something which made you open your mouth, at first for surprise but then to take in the lean physique of the beautiful angel.

A painting of your own appeared in your mind, but soon your mouth found the ability to speak and you blurted out.

“… what are you doing, your sanctity?”.

He simply sent you a small smirk, but moved his hand away from the lower robes, something for which you were thankful, because his hips were already distracting enough.

“Hasn’t your father told you about what I asked of him for this portrait?” his tone now was damnably shaming, as if he was talking to someone beneath him “… I asked him to paint me as ‘Saint Michael pushing out of Heaven the rebellious angels’ and if I am not wrong…”.

He had smirked softly then and opened his plump lips to complete the phrase, but you didn’t catch the sound, too focused on the perfect shade of them.

“…  angels are naked, aren’t they?”.

Not exactly.

It mostly happened if they were children or if they were simple models.

You, yourself, had studied the human anatomy on model, both males and females, much to your embarrassment, but to paint such a beautiful and powerful man, naked…

… it almost suffocated you.

“… oh yeah… ahem… but not completely naked” ‘please just spare me this’.

“I’ll keep my most intimate bits to myself, don’t worry lady Savini” he promised, and you just took a deep breath, remembering yourself that you just needed to be professional.

If not for your big occasion, to avoid your father any kind of shame.

“Thank you, my lord” you hid behind the canvas, gently relaxing yourself with the thought of your father’s praise “… whenever you are ready let me know and I’ll start”.

“Of course, lady Savini” he had promised with a smart smirk, before rustling of fabric had emptied the awkward silence between you two “… I am ready”.

And again as you had moved to face him, your breath had been stolen by your mouth and although he had indeed kept himself covered with a soft piece of white fabric his entire body was exposed to you and you couldn’t help but blush, again calming your breath with a deep huff before you started to sketch the position, trying to focus on the more technical part of it.

“Have you ever done something like this, lady Savini?” you were used to vases of fruits who didn’t speak so you couldn’t help but be startled as the man behind the canvas spoke to you and you almost made the pencil in your hands fall, grabbing it at the last second.

“… something like what, your sanctity?” you asked unsure, hiding further in yourself, as you traced sudden lines.

“There is no need for such formalities, when you have seen me almost naked, lady Savini” he insisted, although his tone was damnably teasing “… and I mean if you have ever done a portrait or if I am your first”.

The tone with which he had pronounced the words sounded downright sinful and you couldn’t help but blush, nodding almost as if he could see you.

“You are my first” your voice spoke with innocence “… portrait… I haven’t… men don’t take kindly to women ‘stealing their jobs’ “.

You almost wanted to eat back all you had said, but he simply laughed out loud.

“… on that I can agree, lady Savini”.

“Just call me (Y/N)” you mumbled softly, since he had been graceful enough to avoid the formalities and you weren’t exactly a lady “… and I am glad we can see eye to eye”.

“I do think so too” again that sensual smirk, as if his tone had a secretive undertone he was sharing simply with you “… I do like the fact that the person who portrays me has to have my same sense of things”.

“I’ll try to do my best” and then you joked softly, to alleviate the tense air “… and the talent of an artist should also be coordinated with the ability of the model”.

Michael laughed genuinely and you couldn’t help but love that soft laugh, almost scared of being heard.

And then you went back to studying his features, till you had the sketch down to a t, only the face being left outside of your drawing, making you wonder constantly about what you had to do to make it all better.

And Michael caught your uneasiness.

“Is something wrong?” you raised your gaze from the canvas, looking at him in the eyes and wondering what you could change.

“… I am just… I am just having trouble with the face” you hoped he wouldn’t take it as a personal offence, but Michael simply smirked “… I just don’t understand how… I can’t choose which one is the best”.

“… then let me help you”.

And then before you were able to understand what was happening, Michael reached softly under the white fabric, pushing it a bit further up in order for him to touch under the fabric… down there.

In a shameful gesture that looked so free and natural.

“I might have an idea” and even under the fabric you could see his hand tugging himself, in a way that sounded so obscene yet so damnably alive “… shouldn’t he look like he just received the ecstasy of God?”.

You didn’t know what to say, but he just kept on gently pushing his member to swell under the fabric, till its silhouette was visible.

And it made you lose any breath from your lungs.

And your inspiration suddenly spiked up, as your hand found itself on your pencil quickly tracing the gorgeous shape of Michael’s biting lips, and the way his eyes brightened just before darkening as he brought himself over the edge.

And you caught that delicious shapes of his eyebrows scrunching rather ungraciously, although it made the entire painting damnably human and as you shot a look at the canvas…

… you understood it was the best thing you would have ever painted.

[ahsbitch]

Pretty Boy (Part 1)---Hawthorne!Michael Langdon x Reader

Word Count: 666 (Seriously, isn’t that hilarious?) 

Summary: Hawthorne & Robichaux are doing a student exchange program. Reader is going to be attending Hawthorne for a while, with Michael acting as her guide there. I feel like there’s not all that much I need to say in terms of summary I’m pretty sure y’all can pick up on where this is headed

Warnings: None, at least not in this part. Cursing. 

A/N: This was gonna just be one normal length oneshot but then I was checking my word count thus far and it was 666 and that made me laugh so I decided to post this first part as a drabble, and then in total it’ll just be like two or three parts. 

Hawthorne Academy was certainly a strange place.

You’d been there for about two and a half minutes, and that was all of an opinion you could form on it.  Of course, Robichaux’s wasn’t the most normal place in the world either. It had it’s own strange vibes, uncomfortable energy. But at least it wasn’t underground like Hawthorne.  Although there was something cool, aesthetically pleasing, about a literally underground school.  Still, you had a bad feeling prickling up the back of your neck as you walked alongside Cordelia. “Why are we here, again?” You muttered, more to yourself than to the witches walking with you. Cordelia gave you a look, shaking her head, “Be nice, Y/N. We’re lucky to have been welcomed so kindly. The invitation for an exchange program between our schools was an excellent bridge towards collaboration.” “And I’m so incredibly happy to study with warlocks,” You scowled, “But we all know that the reason they invited us here to begin the exchange, rather than coming to us with their exchange and delegates to pick me up, was because they wanted to show off.”   Zoe rolled her eyes, nudging you gently, “You’re right, Y/N, but that doesn’t mean you need to say it. Sometimes you can think things and just keep them in.” “I’m not a child, Zoe, I’m just a bitch. I know I can keep in the things that I think. I choose not to.”  “Y/N,” Cordelia said sharply, and you tensed, “We are grateful to be here. You are grateful to have been chosen for this exchange. Control the bitchiness.”  “Sorry Cordelia,” You murmured, blushing like a scolded child.  It was a pretty place, you’d give it that. The aesthetic was solid, even if the nervous prickle on your neck wasn’t going away.  Of course, it could be that you were anxious about meeting the new group of people and deflecting with aggression and sarcasm.  But you were going to ignore that thought.  “I’m just saying,” You spoke again after a moment, ignoring Zoe as she elbowed you in the ribs, “They told me that there was a guy I was going to be partnered with while I was here. To help me with the transition, and because he’s apparently the best student here, and I’m the best student at Robichaux, they think that we’ll be able to teach each other stuff. But they don’t really want that, y’know? Even if this guy is the best at this school, that makes him like, average at best at ours. They know he won’t be able to teach me anything. This guy will be someone with a pretty face, charming, able to absorb my information so that he can pass it on to everyone else here because they think they can someday be better than us. I can already feel the toxic masculinity in this place ruining my skin.” The three of you had reached a common area without you realizing, and when you finally stopped speaking and looked up, you saw several warlocks standing in front of you. Ah, shit.  One of them stepped forward, a smirk entrenched on his features. He was young, wearing the Hawthorne uniform, and there was something very drawing about his pale blue eyes and golden curls, something that contrasted very deeply with the aura he gave off. Fuck, he was hot. This was going to be annoying. “Michael Langdon,” He held his hand out for you to shake, teeth glinting in the dim light as he smiled at you, “I assure you, I’m much more than just charming. I think you’ll find me to be quiet capable.”  Regarding his hand coolly, you reached out after a moment.  He had a firm grip. Soft hands. It wasn’t a bad handshake. “Y/N Y/L/N,” You pulled away, looking at your palm for a moment before making intense eye contact with him, a challenge, “I look forward to seeing you try to prove it, pretty boy.” 

[multific]

True Happiness

Daddy!Michael Langdon x Mommy!Reader

Summary: Michael knows that his son is just like him, so when he grows up during the night, Michael is very interested to see his wife’s reaction.

A/N: This takes place after Outpost and in this Michael survives and fulfills his mission. Hope you like this! Enjoy~

 Your son, your tiny little son, who was born not too long ago, was now a grown-up man. Not to mention that he like almost exactly like his father.

Sure you should have expected this to happen, his father grew up very quickly as well. And there you stood, in his room, stunned that the little toddler you put to bed last night was now a teenager, although Michael warned you about the possibility of his son growing up just as quickly as he did, you hoped to have your son as a cute little man for a bit longer. But it seemed like his genes had other ideas.

You didn’t notice Michael walking towards you, he too, stopped and looked at his son. Even if he expected this to happen, he was still a bit stunned.

Michael watched you, he felt sorry for you, he hoped that you will not get angry. And he was more than surprised when you snapped out of your thoughts and went ahead to wake your baby boy up. Michael watched as you kissed your son and whispered with a sweet voice to him.

“Adriel, my darling, its morning, you have to get up.” Michael watched as the teen opened his eyes. Adriel, he choose that name it means follower of God, Michael choose it to mock God since he thought that naming the child Lucifer would be too in-your-face.

Michael followed your every move that day. He remembered his past and the way he grew up, and he wanted to make sure nor his son nor his wife would go through such horrible things.

But you were amazing. You still cared for Adriel like he was a toddler, and he could see it in the boy’s eyes that he very much enjoyed it. Michael had flashbacks all day, comparing how people treated him with the way you treated your son.

After lunch, while your child took a nap, he even asked you about it.

“Why can you accept and love him the way you do, when I was his age all I got was anger and yelled at.”

“Maybe because I love him? Like I actually try and I won’t push him away? Yes, he grew up and now his body is not a child’s but his mind is. Doesn’t matter how he looks like, he needs to learn values according to his age and the way he behaves.” Michael was stunned.

He knew you were an intelligent woman, he knew that from the moment he saw you and he fell in love. He remembers asking you or his father for proof that you actually love him and you weren’t just pretending so you can live.  Michael thought he got many proof for that in the past, when you saved him in Outpost or when you married him or when you gave him a child or when you just lay there on his chest, during the nights, thinking that he was asleep while you talked about how much you love him, but this, this was above it all. Your true and unconditional love for your child, the Antichrist’s child was meant more than anything else.

While some would try and kill or blame the child, you didn’t. You shoved the true qualities of a mother, something Michael never had and loved Adriel unconditionally.

After that, he looked at you with even more love, even more lust and even more care. He watched you interact with Adriel, the way you spoke with patience, love and care, the way you made the boy smile. Michael thought that he was happy in the past, like when his son was born, but no, as he watched you play with Adriel, he realized that this is what true happiness is.

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ˇAO3ˇ

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[so-langdon]

Be Better - Michael Langdon x Fem! Reader (Drabble)

Summary: Y/N and Michael get into an argument and he makes her cry.

Warnings: Angst, fighting, swearing, some fluff

A/N: Just a lengthy(?) drabble about being in a fight with Michael

Tagged!: @hecohansen31 , @gypsylilacs , @michaelsapostle 

Y/N wasn’t really sure what had just happened in the last few minutes. One minute she was greeting Michael as he walked into their bedroom at the Outpost, the next they were arguing, yelling and screaming at one another, obscenities being exchanged back and forth. 

The anger Y/N felt was so overwhelming, she didn’t even remember what the two were arguing about anymore. She just knew she was livid and resentful towards Michael. The way he spoke to her, sarcastic, dry and elusive, speaking them so carelessly towards her.

The entirety of the Outpost could probably hear their argument, but that was the least of their worries as they spewed their harsh words at each other.

The longer their argument went on, the more tired Y/N got, always hating whenever the two fought. The exerted energy from being mad and upset always exhausted Y/N. She didn’t enjoy confrontation and fighting, what good came from it when they’d speak so cruelly to one another?

But Michael seemed to get a thrill almost when they had fights like these, as if becoming rejuvenated. Michael would get more heated, noticeably more angry, the words from his mouth getting worse as he spoke. All while it broke Y/N down and made her want to shrink away. 

They’ve never had an argument quite this heinous before, and it really seemed to hurt Y/N the most, especially when Michael screams some particularly callous words at her. 

Once the words leave Michael’s mouth, there’s a part of him that wishes he could take them back. But the other part of him that’s riled up is satisfied with the pained expression on Y/N’s face, getting some sick pleasure from it. He had gotten under her skin, hurting her where he knew would hurt her the most. He’d won this fight he figured, but was it really worth it?

Y/N takes a step back after hearing the insulting words from Michael, trying to process if he really just said what he said. Michael could be so sweet and loving with her, but so awful and evil when he wanted as well.

Her body reacts before her mind can, her vision becoming blurry as her eyes sting with the tears, building until they stream down her cheeks. 

“What the fuck are you crying for?” Michael exclaims at her while glaring. “You don’t have it in you to defend yourself?”

The anger was still prominent in Michael with the way his eyes were furrowed, fixated on her aggressively. Even when Y/N couldn’t find any words to say further, her own eyes diverting away as she swallowed and seemed to coddle within herself to hide. But it didn’t matter to him. He was still agitated and frustrated with her. Her weak demeanor only made him want to scream at her more.

But his anger begins to subside when he notices her expression, looking so fragile, small and sad, seeing how the tears steam down her face consistently, blinking them away as they cloud her eyes.

It was always different with her. She always had an effect on him, especially when she seemed so sad, and he was the cause. Her weak demeanor made him want to scream more at her originally, but only because it’s when he’s in the wrong, and he’s angry in himself for being the way he is, therefore he projects it onto her until he realizes what he’s doing. 

“Hey,” Michael coos, stepping over to Y/N, her almost flinching as he reaches her, causing Michael to frown over her actions. It was like she was scared of him now. “Hey, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Y/N,” all anger and cruelty fading away, wanting to just console her. “I didn’t mean it, baby, I swear I didn’t.” He grabs her hands, causing her to look up at him timidly. “I love you, so much,” he pleads, “I hate when you cry, especially when I’m the cause. I’m so sorry,” he wraps his arms around her body, bringing her into a hold.

Y/N wraps her arms around Michael’s torso, accepting his warmth and comfort, nuzzling her head into him. “You can be so mean,” she cries into his chest.

Michael was mean. He could be ruthless, harsh and so cruel when you least expected it. He was the antichrist after all, having a specific plan and wanting to follow through with it without any complications. But around Y/N, she could always bring out the softer side of him; the humanity in him.

Though he was always genuine and loving with her, he could still mess up and be mean to her accidentally which Michael hated. It was like the darkness took over him, causing him to not know what he was doing until it was too late. It was still something he was struggling to overcome, never having a reason to overcome it until Y/N.

“I know. I’m fucking sadistic. You don’t deserve it, there’s no excuse,” Michael sighs. He kisses the top of her head, “I’m so sorry,” he whispers. “I’ll be better for you. I’m sorry.”

[lovelykhaleesiii]

Our Son (Part 1)

Pairing: Michael Langdon x fem!Reader

Words: 1730

Summary: Michael and the reader previously were together before the nuclear attacks, though separated before after losing touch. During that time, the reader was pregnant and gave birth to their son, only to be reunited post-apocalyptic with Michael.

Warnings: Angst, mentions of pregnancy, FLUFF, short time jump (***)

REQUESTED BY: @thatoneweirdgirl17 

Tags: @del-rcys , @msjamesmarch , @chelsealaur , @m-i-a-m-c-d-e-e , @suzumebailey , @fandoms-allovertheplace , @crownofrowan , @gracethegeek9902 @kellysimagines , @minnesota-loser

A/N - Hope you all enjoy this! It will become a series in future, so TAGLIST IS OPEN! ❤️

The life as a single mother had proven to be difficult, though you managed. Adam Langdon, your beautiful baby boy was a miracle and it simply was too unbearable to think of life without him: he was your only family. His father, Michael, was out of the picture just days before you’d realised you were pregnant... You loved him, and he loved you. But that was it, you knew that Michael wasn’t the type to just dwell on the past and for that, you made the sole decision of raising the child yourself, without him having the slightest idea that he was a father. Initially, the breakup and the news of being your pregnancy was overwhelming: and many times you’d contemplated on surprising Michael with your growing bump until you’d recall your tragic break up. He’d grown to become distant, you felt he’d grown cold and began to resent you, for reasons still unknown. You felt helpless and unwanted, until you had finally gained the courage to instigate the discussion of breaking up, hoping to see that this misunderstanding would spark something in Michael, hoping it would make him realise how neglectful he’d been towards you...Though to your misery, it had all backfired. He merely agreed to the idea and seemed unstirred by the ordeal he’d caused: carrying on with his life, unconcerned about yours.

Your pregnancy also wasn’t one of the most greatest experiences, in fact, it wasn’t at all what you were expecting... Many of the symptoms you contracted were different to those you’d read previously in books and from the medical consultations you’d receive. Throughout your bizarre pregnancy you’d dreamt of the most surreal things, your cravings sometimes were most disturbing, wanting pieces of raw meat, not to mention your contractions were beyond painful… You constantly anticipated the worst, your anxiety becoming heightened, particularly during Adam’s birth. Despite it being amongst the most excruciating experiences you’d ever faced: if it meant being able to hold what was now your healthy, pure son today, it was definitely worth reliving.

That was until the apocalypse struck the world... Nation-wide coverage of the missile attacks occurring around the world left you tragically in desperate need for help, even if it meant risking your own life for the sake of Adam. Hence, when the decision came to travel with these secret service agents, who’d randomly stormed their way into your apartment, only to have briefly informed you that they’d be your only chance of survival, you took it without any hesitation. He was your sole purpose in life, and that was simply that.

And now Outpost 3 was Adam’s new home and yours...

After 18 months of the repeated schedule that you’d grown accustomed to, the sudden breach into the post disturbed everyone, especially you. With hardly any line of defence in place, no evacuation plans to enact, nor was it wise to escape beyond the walls, if need be, the threat of your life and Adam’s seemed imminent. God knew what had managed to breach the walls of the facility, and you were in no rush to find out.

“All questions will be answered in due course, Miss Y/L/N. Now for the sake of that child of yours, make your way down towards the living room. Our guest wants to have a talk.” She sternly retorted, her cane hitting against the wooden boards of the floor, only to awake Adam out of his serene sleep. Thankfully, he hardly cried nor had he ever proven to be a loud child compared to the adults, who did most of the whining...Gently embracing his tiny body in your arms, the only thing that had been keeping you grounded this entire time was the little boy you’d been cradling. He had much of his father in him, particularly his eyes: both have those mesmirising, piercing blue eyes. He was a constant reminder of Michael and that pained you, though it never not once interfered for the love you have for him. Adam was all you had.

***

Hastily finding a seat on the couch, adjusting your purple dress to suit your comfort, with Adam nestled on your lap, the suspense of breach was evident in the air. It felt tense, especially since hardly anyone talked during dinner, which was a first: not even a single complaint left Coco’s mouth. Once everyone had made their way into the room, and all were present silence fell bellowed again, and your anticipation for answers was as crisp as ever. Your complete focus diverted towards Miss Venable, awaiting for her to break the void. Although, the only sound that could be heard were the faint footsteps being made, each step louder than before as it edged closer. For some strange reason, you felt that these footsteps felt familiar, they felt so reassuring... Instinctively, your head snapped towards the entrance of the room, only to be shocked senseless that the visitor was Michael, in the flesh.

Immediately upon entering the room, his gaze remained on you, only to in turn fall upon Adam: a small yet genuine smirk emerged against his face. You remained speechless, as he made his way towards where Miss Venable had been standing, only to be excused. Yet Michael still made effort to address you either, nor did he seem rattles by the sight of you holding a baby, that resembled him in so many ways. Instead, he’d introduced himself to the rest: completely immersed in his unexpected arrival, unaware that he’d even survives the attack, you’d completely forgotten about everyone else in the room.

“I’ve been sent to determine if any of you are worthy and fit to join us in the sanctuary, which I’m certain many of you will be” he exclaimed, his full attention prevailing upon you at that exact moment.

“I’ll be conducting interviews throughout these few, coming days.”

“I volunteer to go first!” Gallant shouted, the sheer excitement in his tone causing Adam to jump.

“And so you shall... But, unfortunately these interviews are entirely dependent my discretion, and therefore I get to choose who gets to be interviewed first. And it just so happens to be the mother and the child.” He firmly retorted: trepidation beginning to arise within you, your grip pulling Adam closer to your chest for reassurance.

“Is it because she already has a head start with the procreation bullshit, cause if so that’s totally uncalled for-“

“Enough!” Michael roared, causing Coco to halt in her tracks, shocked by the sudden outburst.

“Miss Venable, if you would be so kind as to lead Miss Y/n and myself to your office” He pleaded, moving aside as his hand gestured her to lead the way. In compliance, nodding against his wishes, she began to direct you both out: you walking behind her as Michael politely insisted on tagging behind, it was a silent yet short journey to her office. Walking towards a seat near the fireplace, Adam tightly adjusted in your arms, his eyes fixated on his father, your chest began to tighten.

Peering over towards Michael who still remained beside the door, began to gradually make his way over, seating himself opposite of you. The silence was endearing and you finally could no longer bear it: your questions needed to be answered for it was still too overwhelming to believe that Michael was there.

“How-how on Earth did you manage to survive? D-Did you have access to this sanctuary?” You bellowed, your face drenched in concern.

“I knew some people... All answers will be addressed once us three make our way back to the sanctuary. Can’t risk you both staying here for another minute.”

“You knew about us? You knew about us this entire time, didn’t you?! And you never thought for a split second, of wanting to meet him up until now, when the entire world has just been desecrated?” You began to shout, your grip tightening as to protect Adam from the unpredictability of his own father.

“Of course I did Y/n. But I had to keep my distance...In fact, I find that there’s no reason for you to pinpoint me as the fault here, when it was I who had those agents escort you to safety. It was I that assured the survival of you both, so that one day we could reunite and restore ourselves as a new family... That is if you still wish for that.”

Your mind blank, it being most difficult to understand Michael’s logic, which had always been far-fetched though always with good intentions. It was too much to digest, though since hearing the news of the other outposts, your motherly instincts of keeping Adam alive and well was all that mattered. And just as you had initially decided to trust the words of strangers, you knew that Michael was no different. A part of you always envisioned a future with him, and there was no denying that he too had mutual feelings. Yet he seemed most persistent in hiding them...

“Why’d you leave? In the first place. Why couldn’t you just have stayed when I needed you most?” You began to cry, trying most difficult to remain composed. Typically, Michael wasn’t an emotional type, and you’d always believed that crying indicated to him how weak of a person you were. Though during times that you found it most relieving to do so, he had always been mindful of your tendencies: he respected your needs, until he’d grown to part from you. The sheer sight of you in pain, as you remembered during the early moments of your relationship, triggered him to comfort you. Embracing you in his broad arms, the gentle kisses he’d give reassuring that you were deeply loved, remaining close to you until you’d managed to overcome the situation. And not once had he ever doubted your resilience to persevere. These flashbacks instantly fading, your thoughts returned to reality, only to find Michael sitting beside you, his arm draped around you ever so tightly, his free hand stroking the identical gold-blonde locks of his son.

“His an angel” you whispered, a smile brewing on your face instantly, as your eyes met Adam’s before returning to Michael’s. Too distracted by the overdue reunion, you’d merely wanted nothing more than to forget the past. Both Michael and you shared the same vision for the future, for Adam’s future.

“Indeed he is” he chuckled.

“But for now my love... I want you both with me always. Understood?”

“Understood.”

[tateisabigmood]

Michael Langdon Imagine- Cuddling

A/N: sorry for being so inactive, but school has been rough and i haven’t been very well, mentally. also, i got a 7,7 for my english test and i’m lowkey disappointed because it was a writing test but o well

Summary: Michael has no problem with showing you just how much he loves you, even with others around.

warnings: none

wordcount: 375 ( issa short one )

pairing: Michael Langdon x ( non gender specific ) Reader

You are clingy. You had to admit that. The constant reassurance that your partner loves you was something that you just needed. Skin-to-skin contact was your lifeline. Whether it was just holding a hand or cuddling into someone's side, you needed it.

Luckily, Michael had no problem with PDA. If anything, he encouraged it. He would ask you to sit next to him when he was working or to hold your hand during dinner. Yes, he prefers to privacy with you but in a post-apocalyptic world, privacy is a luxury that is not always available. Just like now.

Even with you laying on top of him while occupying the entire couch, Michael still radiates dominance. Everyone is listening intently to him as he explains more about the interviews to them while he is rubbing the exposed skin on your arm.

Your fingers twist his soft locks around them, playing with the silky strains. “ What happens to those who don’t make the interviews? “ Coco asks. Michael is about to answer her but you beat him to it. “ They’ll die, “ you say while dropping your voice slightly to sound like a comic villain. You chuckle at your self softly.

You look up at Michael to see him already looking at you. “ Sorry, “ you mumble. Michael gives you a small kiss on your forehead before continuing his story. “ Y/n’s right, you’ll die. “.

After he has finished up talking he orders everyone to leave so you two can be alone. You move around so that instead of laying on top of him, you’re now laying next to him. Michael lets his fingers trail over your cheeks. You two lay there for a couple of minutes, just enjoying each other’s presence.

“ I’m sorry for interrupting you. “ you say. Michaels shakes his head, as well as you can do that while laying down. “ Don’t be. “. You croak out a small “ okay  “ before burying your head into his chest.

“ I love you, “ you mumble against his cotton covered chest. His fingers lace through your as he brings your hand up to his lips, pressing a small kiss against your knuckles. “ I love you too. “.

MICHAEL LANGDON TAGLIST ( OPEN ): @hxdesworld @pinkhappypanda @multi-madison @dudesorriso @germansarechill

PERMANT TAGLIST ( OPEN ): @quacksonbarnes @cassiopeia-barrow

[amaranthine-enihtnarama]

It’s You (Michael Langdon x gn! Witch Reader)

Short fic inspired by my intense fixation on this ABSOLUTE PUBLIC MENACE because no, I could NOT fix him and I don’t think I want to

also inspired by the songs under the break (i am back on my dark academia bullshit)

DO NOT REPOST OR COPY OR I WILL FIND YOU.

TW: (implied depression, grief, implied sex but not the nasty-nasty, hopelessness)

𝖑𝖎𝖐𝖊 𝖒𝖞 𝖜𝖗𝖎𝖙𝖎𝖓𝖌? 𝖋𝖎𝖓𝖉 𝖒𝖞 𝖒𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙 𝖍𝖊𝖗𝖊

Reader is a witch who has survived the apocalypse and lives in the outpost, haunted by grief. She lives in a heavy limbo until the love of her life and the destroyer of it, the Antichrist, appears with promises of a new haven. They reunite, and [Y/N] is forced to accept that even her love will succumb to the destructive force that now rules the world.

It had been difficult to sleep ever since the bombs fell upon the earth and wiped out the life I’d built in mere seconds. It was harder when I was moved to an underground bunker with perverse rules due to the wishes of my late father. I would sit alone in my room all night, hugging my knees in bed, cocooned in my blanket, staring at the door. I had been waiting for something—I wasn’t sure what. Something dark; that I knew. The anxiety that gripped my stomach made me confident of it.

However, it had always been hard to differentiate between my anxieties and my magic. Fear and power had always blended together in my eyes.

The night before he came again—the man I’d loved, the man that haunted the recesses of my mind—my habit of staring at the door had broken. Instead I laid on my bed, staring up at the ceiling for hours until I finally snapped and couldn’t stand my room anymore, being suffocated by the air and cooking under my bedclothes.

I ventured outside. It was bare. Silent. Dead. Perfect.

Everyone was asleep, leaving no one to roam the halls, including any Grays. I hated to call them Grays, they were people with names and grief, just like me. They were more human than the filth I had to fraternize with daily—Ms. Venable being the most repulsive of them all.

I wrapped my silk violet robe around myself tightly and walked in silence. I had no destination or purpose as I ghosted the halls. I only stared ahead or looked around silently: I’d seen every inch of this place and had grown more familiar with it that I’ve ever wanted to be with anything.

Except for him. Except for my sisters. The thought of them made my throat tighten with a sob eager to free itself.

I took a deep, shuddering breath and went to the library. I’d read all of the books I was interested in by the time eighteen empty months had trudged by and had resorted to the ones that were torture to read. I would’ve reread Frankenstein or the forgotten spell book left in the very top of the bookshelf, but the variety, even the unwanted, gave me some memory of the world a year ago. The feeling of skimming my fingers over worn leather spines had to substitute for the feeling of an ocean breeze, of a movie theater, of the bark of a tree or the fur of an animal. It was the last remnant of the world I had loved.

I cracked open Charles Darwin and stared at the letters blankly. My mind wandered to memory. The memory tugged on the agonizing burn of loss that ate through my stomach. My throat tightented. I bit down on my fist and stared into the fireplace as the tears flowed—the last fresh water on earth.

I fell asleep in the library that night—or morning, who knows, but I’ve always had a proclivity for staying awake during the wee hours—and I had a dream. I never dream, not unless it was important stuff. That was part of my magic.

There was blood, but more importantly, there was vomit—SO much fucking puke. It was flying out of their mouths like a hose, them being my fellow Purples and Grays. I recognized all of the faces: Mr. Gallant, Mallory, that old lady I don’t care to put effort into knowing, the loud one, the Oprah knockoff, etc.

But I didn’t see Ms. Venable. Or her goon.

On that basis, after I’d been woken up by Mariah, a Gray—who, by the way, used to be a child trauma therapist that definitely had more worth than the Vandebilt who yelled about burgers and shit all the time—and recorded my vision, it became abundantly clear that the two were planning to kill us.

I was a bit surprised. I couldn’t figure out why. I knew they were sadistic fucks who got off on playing god, but we had no use for them dead. I was confused by my vision until the perimeter alert happened later that day, and I felt him.

It made sense the moment he walked into the room in the meeting—it was written on his face like it always was—he was going to be this place’s undoing.

And he would make it such an enjoyable game.

When our eyes met, I didn’t know how to function for a moment. I wanted to vomit, to scream, to leave, even though I knew it was him who had came. I thought I’d been done with it after I let him go and gave up, but it was bullshit. My feelings hit me with full force as his expression shifted to something genuine—only for an instant—then a soft smile formed on his lips.

Part of me wanted him desperately—the other wanted his blood on my hands and his heart crushed in my fist.

All’s fair in love and war, as they say. I just didn’t expect to see him again. Ever.

He announced the overrun of three other outposts, as well as a magical place called the Sanctuary that would solve all of our problems—except it didn’t, because he was choosing who was coming with him. In interviews. Individual ones. With him. Alone.

It made my mouth taste like metal.

Once we finally got to leave I hid in my room. I tried to process it—the feelings, the pulsing of my heart—then a knock came to my door.

I froze. I knew it was him. My love. The Antichrist. My Michael.

I slowly rose from the crouch I was in against the door, and gripped the handle before opening it slightly. I looked at him silently, trying to ignore my tears as I made my face stone.

He looked into my eyes, searching them, then smiled again. A real one, the one I remembered. I couldn‘t figure out for the life of me why.

“Come with me, [Y/N]. It‘s time for our interview.”

”What if I don’t want to speak to you,” I said coldly, eyes drying.

He noticed my tears. His smile fell, and he reached out to dry them. I meant to slap his hand away but my hand only gripped his forearm as he wiped some from my cheek. I fought to keep my composure at the long needed feeling of his touch on my skin. It felt right just like it always did.

”Come with me. Please,” he said quietly, “I doubt you want any of these people to see me coming into your room.”

”I’d think it would wise for you to have eyes when we’re together.”

His small, amused smile returned. ”Because you want to kill me?”

”Because I fucking will,” I hissed, shoving his hand away.

He seemed to take that seriously, because he took his hand back.

“I don’t want to talk about it here. Not with people watching.”

He was referring to the borderline six-foot foodie that was Ms. Venable’s other goon. They were hiding and eyeing us around the corner.

I pressed my lips into a thin line as I stared at him, then shoved past him, making the door shut aggressively.

”Don’t waste my time with bullshit.”

”Don’t waste mine with it, either,” he said.

“Fuck you.”

He went ahead, and I followed. He walked more confidently these days. It made part of me happy. I mostly wanted to crush his legs with a sledgehammer.

We went into a large office with a crackling fire. He shut the large rolling doors to the room, then turned to face me. I didn’t sit after he gestured for me to take a seat. He took it in stride, then carefully approached me.

“[Y/N]…I just want you to listen to me for a moment, okay?”

I looked at him blankly. “What could you possibly say that would make me forgive you killing my sisters? For reducing the world I loved into nuclear winter and pus-covered horses and desperate killers and thieves? What—‘I’m sorry’? Are you fucking kidding me? Don’t waste your breath.”

 “You said no bullshit. So I’m not going to lie.”

I scoffed, but sat down. He pulled up a seat right next to me and leaned forward, looking at me earnestly. It made my heart confused.

“I am sorry. But the only reason I’m sorry is because I’ve hurt you. I can…I felt your pain the moment I stepped into this place.”

He took my hand when he saw my eyebrows relax slightly.

“You’re one of the only people I can trust, [Y/N], I…”

I shook my head. “Don’t. Don’t say it.”

”But I do. I never stopped. I’ve thought of you constantly since the day you left, and I was never upset with you because, well, I could see it.”

I knew what it was he saw—the same thing I’d always seen in him. I looked at him slowly, my eyes feeling heavy as I took in his features without thinking of destroying them. He was beautiful—he’d always been. He caressed my face then moved closer to me.

“I know you’re angry with me,” he said, voice gentle, yet trembling, “I know, but even now, I can look into your soul and see it. You still love me—“

”Don’t,” I begged, feeling my eyes sting, “Just stop, Michael.”

”I still love you, [Y/N],” he whispered, tears falling from his eyes, “I do.“

The muscle that conjured grief in my system was sore and exhausted from suffering over him night after night. I was empty. But I still hurt for him. I hated to see him cry. I still do.

”I do need you with me, [Y/N],” he said, a fond smile trying to form on his face.

I chuckled. “No, you don’t.”

”Yes, I do.”

”No, you don’t. You don’t need anyone, not really. Maybe just your father, but I digress.”

”Then I want you.”

He moved from his seat and got down on one knee in front of me, pressing his forehead against mine—a gesture I partly initiated by leaning towards him. I shut my eyes, thinking of all the times we’d been like this before. After our first kiss, after our first fight, after confessing our love to each other.

“It’s never gone away,” he said, “You’ve always had such a pure, unrelenting love for me. Under everything, your nastiest truth was loving me.”

“Loving the Antichrist. Loving the killer of my coven.”

”But you didn’t care, did you?”

I opened my mouth to speak, but silence beat my voice for a moment. My words came out tiny.

“I never cared about loving the Antichrist, no. But I do care that you’ve betrayed me grossly.”

”You knew I’d kill them.”

I covered my mouth, pulling away and standing, going to the fire. I sobbed quietly against my palm.

“…Yes. But you—you had them shot. You killed them like they meant nothing—like you didn’t even care about the fact you were ripping my family from my life and tearing my heart open, like you didn’t care if I still loved you afterward! If I trusted you! If I would have a home, a safe place—a real one, Michael. Not you.”

He came up to me. “You don’t mean that.”

“Don’t I? Don’t you understand that the things you did to end the world like daddy wanted you to have ruined me? That when you cast aside your free will in favor of prophecy you cast us aside, too? Or is your mind too warped, too fucking sick and distorted to grasp the basic concept that your actions can hurt people you care about?!”

I’d yelled at him. I glared at him furiously as he looked into my eyes and saw the rage and hate was just as truthful as my love for him. But—still.

I let my gaze listlessly shift towards the fire. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean those last words I said.”

He shook his head. “No, you did…and you’re right. I am sick. You’re not cruel for seeing the obvious.”

“I’m cruel to myself. I can’t see myself belonging with anybody else. I can’t see myself even wanting to belong with anyone else.”

”Then don’t,” he said, taking my hands, “Come with me to the Sanctuary. Let me prove myself to you that you can love me again.“

His lips lowered to mine. “There’s no one else in this world meant for me but you.”

I was the one to kiss him. Tenderly, my lips unsure to pull away so as not to get fused and locked onto his for an eternity like it always did. But the feeling would exhilarate me. I pulled back before the feeling happened. I looked in his eyes. A soft, grim smile formed on my face.

“I know.”

I knew when I first set eyes on him that we were linked for an eternity. The “boy wonder”, the “Alpha”, the monster that I shared my bed with. I wish I could say the darkness repulsed me—that I didn’t feel the sinister undercurrent surrounding him and found myself seduced by it; that I found kinship in his darkness in my own.

But that would be a lie. And I hate lies. I’d always pick the truth, even if it scalded and shamed me. I picked the truth when I kissed him again. I picked the truth when I let him follow me back to my room and stripped myself of my purple costume. I picked the truth when we went to bed and he kissed me achingly and I dragged my nails down his back in blind, maddening ecstasy. And I picked the truth when I had another vision and didn’t tell him.

It was of my sisters returning. The blood, the struggle, and the blow that cast him away to hell in death and defeat.

The blow administered by my hand. The only hand that could ever slay the Antichrist. One guided by love, loyalty, and divinity. The one that traced his skin as he slept with me in his arms.

Yes; the truth would always scald me in the end.

Only the fresh water that fell from my eyes healed the wounds.

[syven-siren]

As She Commands

Summary: Michael doesn't take too kindly to his follower insulting the Reader. (Michael Langdon x Female!Reader)

Angry voices tangle together as the meeting becomes more heated. Members of the Cooperative are disgruntled about compromising on their various ideas. Your eyes roll out of irritation. These people are too ignorant to realize that their opinions don’t matter. The sole architect of the new world is Michael and he will build how he sees fit.

Glancing at your leader, you can see his visible frustration at the situation. Shoulders tensed and hands balled into fists, he sits watching the back-and-forth arguments continue. Deciding enough is enough, you speak up, shutting down the comments that are continuing to escalate. 

“Who do you think you are to open your mouth in this discussion?!” Comes a harsh reply from a member sitting at the end boardroom table, “You sit there as nothing more than our king’s whore. And you dare interrupt me, girl. You walk around here, fawning and trailing after the son of Satan. I’m sure you’d give yourself to anyone if you thought it would help you live longer. Keep your mouth shut while we conduct our business.” 

Hushed whispers are exchanged and some of them snicker in agreement, not understanding what hell they are ultimately bringing upon themselves. Your eye twitches in annoyance, a comeback almost rolls off your tongue until Michael slams his hand down on the table causing you and the members of the board to jump. 

“I should kill you right now for how much you’ve disrespected your queen and me,” Michael roars, “If she says she’s heard enough of your idiotic banter then you shut up when she tells you to. If she tells you to lick the damn floor then you do it!” 

You move to Michael’s side, hand slipping onto his shoulder in an attempt to quell his growing temper. Unfortunately, he’s in no mood to be tamed. His flaring anger ignites a wave of excitement to course through your body. The members’ cries of apology fall on unhearing ears. It’s too late for them to backtrack on their comments now.

His chair screeches across the marble floor as he slides back. Expecting him to stand, you move to back away but are jerked forward when he grabs your wrist. Looking up at you, Michael signals for you to sit and you oblige. Taking your place on his lap, you sit poised, facing the room of people with a smirk on your face. 

Michael’s hand is firm on your waist as his fingers dig harshly into your delicate skin. Everyone watches with bated breath, waiting for Michael to make his next move. The incessant shifting of your hips on his thigh captures his attention and provides him with a devilish idea. 

“Are you comfortable, my love?” He whispers hotly against your ear causing you to shudder. Nodding, you lay your hand over his own as it guides you to rock your hips more intently. You pant as your core grinds against his thigh, your clit sometimes catching on the fabrics separating the two of you. 

Relaxing into Michael, you kiss his cheek as he begins to bounce his leg in sync with the movements of your hips. Soft moans leave your lips as you ride his thigh in front of these people, not caring that they are watching. 

“Is this what you meant by her being my whore?” 

The man who insulted you says nothing, scared of making another mistake. The rest of your audience stare on bewildered and enthralled by the display you and Michael are putting on. 

“You should feel honored to be in her presence knowing that she is the vessel chosen to carry my heir.” He announces, his hand splaying over your stomach. His tone and claim over you send your body and mind spinning into an intense orgasm. Your legs clench around Michael’s thigh as pussy jolts and your stomach tightens. You make eye contact with a few of the members, their faces flushed and body language rigid. They’re all on edge, unsure of how to respond and feeling betrayed by themselves as they become turned on. 

“I’m so sorry to have disrespected you both.” The man bows his head in fear, thinking he will come away unscathed from this encounter. 

“You should be,” Michael retorts, snapping his fingers and watching delightedly as the Cooperative members scream in horror as the man disintegrates.