#Soft!Dark Michael Langdon

[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.

[beastsovrevelation]

Captured Angel

Michael Langdon x F!Angel!Reader

Contains: vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, elements of coercion, implied loss of virginity, blasphemy, hierophilia

“Good, you’re awake.”

A chill ran down your spine. You had awakened in an unfamiliar room. Your head ached, your wings hung limp, and your limbs were heavy. The air was soaked to the last thread in malice. It made you nauseous. Gritting your teeth, you dragged yourself up, your mind aflame with a single thought – you had to get out. You looked around, but before you could spot a way of escape, you felt a presence. Dark... Darker than the blackest night. Your heart froze in your chest, a taste of iron suddenly coating your tongue. Though you had not seen his face, you could recognize him anywhere. Seven heads. Ten horns. His honeyed voice left a cold, oily trace on your very soul as he spoke. You drew a deep breath, and spun around, to meet a pair of piercing blue eyes.

His lips crooked into a smirk. Holding your gaze, he moved towards you. You drew back.   

“Get away from me, filthy Beast...” you snarled.

Deep down, you loathed yourself for the instinctive reaction. You were a soldier. You had a duty to stand your ground, and instead, you cowered. He promptly crossed the gap between you two.

“Ah-ah!” he scolded, clasping your chin “That’s not very nice, now, is it?..”

You grimaced. Michael Langdon. How ironic, for Satan’s son to bear your General’s name. The one who cast him out... You hoped it hurt the Evil One greatly. Michael caressed your cheek. You winced, and pushed his hand away. Sneering, he grabbed you by the throat.  

“Why am I here?” you hissed through gritted teeth.

He glanced down at your heaving chest.

“You’re my captive” he purred “Isn’t it obvious?”

You swallowed. Struggling would only worsen your chances, you knew as much. His gaze darkened with hunger as he watched you – like a wolf, salivating at a wounded deer. Your guts had coiled into a tight knot, a sickly sweet taste coating your mouth.

“Why didn’t your bootlickers kill me?” you asked, not quite certain if you wished to know the answer.

A chuckle escaped his lips. The Antichrist’s lecherous expression made your blood boil. How dare the abomination touch an angel of the Lord, you thought. A strange sensation was budding between your legs, but you pointedly ignored it, just as you ignored the feeling of unease clawing at the back of your skull.   

“That would��ve been a waste...” Michael tilted his head “They thought a gift would please me. They weren’t wrong...”

You snarled, attempting to pull away.

“Get your putrid hands off me!”

He tightened his grip on your neck.

“Hush” he coaxed in a mockingly gentle voice “I’m not going to hurt you, angel.”

“Vile creature...” you spat.

He pulled you closer. You bared your teeth, as your face almost crashed into his. Though you did not need air, the pressure on your throat was beginning to make you dizzy. Every nerve in your body screamed to fight - your muscles   had tensed, prepared for combat. You might have broken away. Escaped this unholy place. You should have at least tried... But, perhaps because of the mist gathering over your mind, your legs trembled underneath you. You found yourself staring at his mouth. His breath brushed against your skin, warm and silken. Your pulse leapt into a frenzy.

Michael snuck his other hand under your clothes. The captors had stripped you of your armour, and taken away your sword, leaving only your linen tunic to cover you. His fingertips caressed your thigh, slowly creeping upwards. You held your breath as you felt him part the soft folds of your skin.

You had never been fondled like this before. Carnal pleasure was forbidden for your kind. You should be disgusted, you understood as much. Still, the electric-like impulse roused by his touch paralyzed you, preventing you from breaking his arm.

He stroked your entrance. You stifled a gasp, your intimate muscles tightened in anticipation. Your hole was beginning to well with slick. Taking your lack of resistance for a welcome, he slipped two fingers inside you. The feeling of his skin against your sensitive membrane made your head spin, and you barely held back from bucking your hips into his hand.

He let go of your neck, only to wrap his arm around your waist. Keeping you steady, he spread his fingers wider, straining you until it hurt. You shuddered. He massaged the velvety walls of your flesh, driving you to the edge of madness. Aware of how much satisfaction hearing your cries would give him, you clenched your jaw. His skin grazed against a certain knot of nerves, and you nearly sunk to the ground as your legs buckled from the bolt of stimulation. Still, somehow, you did not make a sound.

It only made Michael more determined. He fixated on your sweet spot, leaving you to desperately clutch the lapels of his jacket. His mouth lingered but a thread away from yours - you felt his heartbeat echo against your rib cage. He narrowed his eyes, and pressed his thumb to your clit. Overwhelmed, you drew a sharp breath.

“Enjoying yourself, aren’t you?..” he teased “What is it, my dear? What do you want, hm?”

He pushed a third finger into your dripping slit. You whined in pleasure muddled with despair.

“Speak up, angel” he demanded.

Virtue be damned. Something tameless had infected you. Caught in the furor of sin, you eagerly cast your innocence aflame.

“I...” you stammered “I want... I need you to ravish me...”

Michael threw you onto the bed, and climbed on top of you. Laying flat on your back, your wings sprawled open, you looked up at him, your eyes sweetly half-lidded. His knee shoved between your thighs, he ripped the front of your tunic open. You sighed as cold air brushed against your nipples. He placed his hands on your breasts, savouring the softness of your bare skin. His eyes aflame with lust, he took a moment to admire your flushed, helpless body. Biting your bottom lip, you pushed your chest into his touch. He grabbed you by the throat again.

“You’re mine” he snarled “Mine alone...”

Against your better judgement, you nodded. Your gaze wandered down to his crotch, causing your mouth to immediately water. Michael’s lips crooked into a sleazy smirk. He unbuckled his pants, and slipped his underwear down. Your eyes widened as his hard cock sprung free. Large, but not obscenely so. You pulled the skirt of your tunic up, leaving your aching cunt at his mercy.

He pinned you down under his full weight. You wrapped your arms around him, savouring the feel of luxurious fabric under your fingers. Like an animal in heat, you craved to feel him inside. His eyes locked with yours, Michael clasped your leg, and positioned himself more comfortably. You blindly caught hold of his member, helping guide it into your hole.

Your heart skipped a beat – you let out a moan as your membranes clamped around him. Hardly giving you a moment to adjust, he began to move. The sudden strain roused a twinge, but it soon was obscured by shattering pleasure. No longer holding back your mewls and whimpers, you sank your nails into his back. Should the expensive suit get ruined, it will be his fault.

Michael groaned, his teeth bared in primal satisfaction. Your response only encouraged him, and he quickly picked up the pace. Each thrust sent a shattering wave of pleasure through your fevered nerves. You wrapped your legs around his waist, welcoming them. He traced the tip of his tongue over your neck. You hissed as his long hair tickled you, overwhelming your senses even more. He purred, and nipped at your jaw.

“Kiss me” you demanded.

He obeyed, leaning down to press his mouth against yours. You parted your lips for him, and allowed your tongues to battle for dominance.

“Say my name” he ordered, upon pulling away.

“I can’t...” you gasped in horror.

“Your general isn’t here...” he growled “It’s just you and me...” he pressed his face to your temple “Say my name, sweetheart. Show the Beast how much you’re enjoying your downfall.”

He pulled his cock almost all the was out, then slammed it back in, roughly grazing your sweet spot. Your cried out, and sank your fingers into his hair. You didn’t want to think about her. You loathed to imagine her disappointment in you. But his presence eclipsed her face. Drowned it in the storm of ecstasy ravaging you.

“Michael!”

“Good girl” he praised with a grin.

Shock after shock of ecstasy tore through your body, setting every cell of it aflame. Your forehead was laced in sweat. Your muscles quivered from the tension. You were close. Very close. Turned feral by the pleasure, he grabbed you by the wrists, thrusting into you with merciless force.

“Michael...” you moaned.

You couldn’t stand it anymore. You arched your back, trembling and convulsing as a scream escaped your throat. Michael threw his head back with a snarl. You had grown painfully tight around him, prompting him to reach his own release. You felt him spill inside you – it was the strangest, most pleasant sensation  you had ever experienced.

You collapsed into the pillows, limp and gasping for breath. He slumped down on top of you. For a moment, you allowed yourself to soak in the glowing haze of bliss. But, just when he had crept off of you, and was about to pull you into his arms, you leapt up. Using his surprise for your advantage, you climbed onto him – this time, you were the one to pin him down. You caught his gaze, and drew a dagger from underneath your ruined tunic. Afraid to molest their master’s gift, the devil worshippers had missed it.

“You will find the men who captured me, crucify them, and bleed them like pigs” you growled, pressing the blade against his throat “Do you understand me, Antichrist?”

A drop of blood sept from under the metal, glowing against his milky skin in a warning.

“Yes” he murmured, as his eyes blazed with adoration.

[delicateflowerss]

Dark Paradise

You try to adjust to a new life, married and living in a manor. But you quickly realize that not everything is what it seems, including your mysterious and devilishly handsome husband, Michael Langdon.

Warnings: 18+, DUB-CON, violence, murder, demon!Michael, blood kink, pain kink, breeding kink, dacryphilia

Word Count: 4.2k

You’re not sure if you’ll ever get used to the dark corridors where shadows dance in your periphery, or the damp smell that makes you feel like you’re underground. It smells of rotting fruit, a slow and lingering decay, almost like death surrounds you.

As long as it doesn’t reach you.

You’re also not sure if you’ll ever get used to the man that haunts these grounds. This tall, dark manor that sits in the middle of nowhere.

He’s not dead, he’s just your husband.

His appearances to you are scarce, only really seeing him at mealtimes and occasionally passing him in hallways.

He’s elusive, mysterious to you in ways you cannot comprehend. Ever since you arrived at the manor, all you’ve had are questions.

For an unknown reason, you can’t remember your life before this place. All you know is you were married off to a man named Michael Langdon.

Sometimes, you have the strangest dreams with a house that feels like the complete opposite of here. One filled with love and light and white walls, and not this frigidness that wraps around you now.

The days almost feel like they go on forever, blending together as nothing surprising happens.

Until one night, you’re pulled out of a peaceful slumber by a piercing scream.

It takes you a moment to blink away the sleep, wondering if it was real or part of a dream.

It doesn’t take long before another one echoes throughout the manor. It’s shrill, a seemingly female scream.

You clutch the soft sheets under you, your heartbeat loud in your ears.

You think about whether you should lie back down, ignoring it and going back to sleep. But you don’t think you could even if you wanted to.

Perhaps against your better judgement, you leave your bedroom, with only a candle lighting your path through the dark hallways.

Your white nightgown sways as you step between walls covered in paintings. The dim candlelight casts shadows on the faces, giving them a particularly ghoulish look.

You keep walking, hoping to find some sort of sign of what it is that woke you up. You’re not even sure where the scream exactly came from.

Before you can reach Michael’s room, a chill sweeps past you, extinguishing your candle, leaving you shivering in the dark.

A disembodied voice calls out your name in the form of a question.

“What are you doing out of your room?” he asks.

You instantly recognize the voice, and it stops you in your tracks. You swallow as he steps closer to you. Michael is holding a candle, illuminating the glare on his face.

“I thought I heard something. It woke me up,” you say nervously.

“I didn’t hear anything,” he replies, his brow furrowing.

“It sounded like a scream. I thought someone might have gotten hurt.”

“Are you sure you didn’t just have a nightmare?” he asks in an almost mocking manner, a cruel smirk growing on his lips.

“No-.” You sigh, stopping yourself. “No,” you say again, this time quieter.

“Come on. I’ll tuck you in and look under your bed for monsters,” he says, trying to step past you with a teasing grin on his face.

“I know what I heard, Michael.”

He stops, mere inches from your face and he can see the seriousness that settles in your eyes.

It doesn’t stop his own icy blue eyes from growing colder.

His gaze rakes over you before he leans in closer, warm breath fanning over your lips as he says, “you didn’t hear anything, Y/N. Time to go back to bed.”

You think your own breathing has stopped before he leaves you, going back to his bedroom.

That’s when your goosebumps return, Michael taking all warmth with him.

You’ve sat in the library all day, reading by the window as rain hits the glass. You decided that you’ll read every book in this place since you don’t have much else to do. You’re on 28 out of 11,200. Thunder rumbles above you as you turn the page.

Nothing has happened since you heard the scream, helping you to believe that it was either a dream or your sleep-addled imagination. You tried asking your handmaid if she heard anything that night, but she said no, giving you a strange look like you might be going mad.

You quickly shut up about it.

Michael hasn’t brought it up, which you’re somewhat grateful for because if he did, it would probably be to make fun of you some more.

Even if he has been polite enough about it, it’s been difficult to be around him. He’s always had an intense gaze but something about it has changed. It lingers for too long.

You think that’s always been the case. But now you react differently, a heat growing in your cheeks and a fire igniting in the pit of your stomach.

“Are you hiding from me for a reason?”

You practically jump, startled by the deep voice near your ear.

You close your book and look over your shoulder, finding Michael standing behind you. Amusement lights up his face and his hands are clasped together behind him.

“Do you normally spend your time in here?” he asks, eyes scanning the room, finding books from floor to ceiling and a fire raging, keeping you warm.

“Sometimes.”

You stare at him, still confused as to why he’s bothering you. Shouldn’t he be busy with something?

“So why do you seem to be in here more than you used to be?”

He steps over to the chair you’re sitting in, wood creaking underneath him. He looks over your shoulder, reading the title of your leatherbound book.

You swallow, able to smell the rich scent he wears. It’s musky with a dash of sweetness, like a piece of fruit being harvested from the earth.

“Just reading more, I guess,” you finally answer his question.

“Hm, well I wanted to apologize for the other night.” He pauses, like it’s hard to get the words out. “You were obviously shaken, and I could’ve been nicer.”

Even if his apology could be more genuine, at least it’s an apology.

“I also want to give you something,” he says before placing something on a side table near you.

You pull your brows together as you take in the gift.

“A pomegranate?” you ask, moving your gaze to him, eyebrows raised.

He picks the piece of fruit back up, mischief dancing in his eyes. In one motion, he cracks the rouge skin open, revealing hundreds of little seeds.

He gathers exactly four seeds in the palm of his hand, setting the rest of the fruit back down.

Without saying anything, he brings his hand closer to you, offering it as if you have no choice but to accept.

You hesitate for a moment before reaching to grab them from the palm of his large hand.

But when your skin brushes against his, a gasp falls from your lips, an image flashing in front of you.

It’s Michael, but he looks different��wearing different clothes than he wears now, almost like a school uniform.

The pomegranate seeds fall to the floor before you look up at him.

There’s a question in his eyes that almost matches yours. But it’s just a flicker of confusion before it disappears, turning into irritation.

He clasps his hands together again before leaning down to you and saying lowly, “if you make a mess, you must clean it up. Remember that.”

You keep your eyes away from him, not able to look at him. You can faintly hear him walk away, but your mind is too focused on the words that seem to have another meaning to them. A meaning that makes heat swirl inside you.

The sun is out today, but just barely. It peeks slightly behind gray clouds. You’ll take it over nothing, deciding it called for a stroll in the garden.

Except, as you look around, you realize there isn’t much of a garden. The flowers seem to be withering away, drooping without life and leaves almost crumbling to dust.

It must be the lack of sunshine, you think as you frown.

It’s so hard to find beauty in a place like this, instead only finding death and tragedy.

Without intending to, your mind wanders to a certain someone. You suppose not all beauty is lost.

You still have been avoiding Michael to the best of your abilities, still unsure what happened that day in the library.

You’re also unsure of your growing feelings for him. He is your husband, but it’s also true you two never consummated the marriage.

He never wanted to, and at first, you were grateful. But now, as you think of his golden curls and sharp jawline that could have been crafted by the gods themselves, you wonder if it would help ease the tension between you. Maybe it’s what you need to do in order to have a normal conversation with him.

But nothing about him is normal. He might be beautiful, but you can’t ignore the darkness that lies in his eyes and makes up his entire being.

You stop, finding a faded yellow flower sprouting from the ground. You bend down, pulling it up. Standing up, you stare at it in your hand, and you can’t help but wish it was alive.

You sigh, eyes closing, almost in defeat. But when you open them, you can’t believe what you see.

The flower is now a bright yellow, looking like it belongs in a vase full of fresh-cut daffodils.

It’s like the flower was resuscitated right between your fingers, finally getting the oxygen it so desperately needed.

There is no way you did this, so how is this possible?

Dinner is mostly eaten in silence. Some small talk is exchanged but you can tell Michael can barely bare it, gritting his teeth as you ask him how his day was.

Michael enjoys more intellectually stimulating conversation. It just so happens that usually means arguing with you or teasing you about something. So, you’re not very fond of it.

Once the plates are taken away, you think you can finally breathe, ready to take your leave to your room.

Just as you’re getting up, Michael stops you.

“Sit down. You haven’t had your dessert yet.”

“Dessert? We only have that on special occasions,” you retort, sitting back down.

“Well, you didn’t get to finish it the other day.”

You part your lips to question him again, but it’s answered when a maid places a plate in front of you.

A pomegranate split in half sits before you.

Michael seems to be waiting for your reaction when you lock eyes with him.

“What is with you and pomegranates?”

“They’re in season. I just want you try it.”

He leans back in his chair, giving a smile that doesn’t exactly reach his eyes. Instead, you find a glint there instead.

You nervously look down at the fruit, mulling over what he wants you to do.

You blink and you suddenly see that the red fruit has turned into a human heart, bloody and still beating.

You gasp, eyes widening as you push back your chair.

You look back to Michael, wondering if he sees it too. You’re met with a cold stare, his finger impatiently tapping on the table.

You frown, your eyes going back to the plate only to find the pomegranate.

Tears spring to your eyes as you consider the real fact that you’re losing your mind.

You don’t notice Michael getting up to stand next to you, your broken mind too caught up with all the peculiar things happening in the last couple of weeks.

He gently puts his hand on your shoulder, taking you out of the torment you’re putting yourself through.

By the time you turn to look at him, he has a few pomegranate seeds on his fingertips. You can smell the sweetness as he brings them closer to your lips.

“Don’t think about it. Just eat them,” he says as two of his fingers move past your lips and into your mouth.

You hum lowly in your throat as you taste how delicious they are, lips clasping tighter around Michael’s fingers, your tongue swirling around them.

He breaks the seal, removing his fingers before you swallow. He watches your throat move up and down, taking his offering.

You don’t miss the satisfied smirk on his plump lips.

It’s a night of tossing and turning. You’re able to sleep but it’s restless. Thoughts of Michael still lingering hours after he fed you the pomegranate.

When you’re finally able to sleep for more than an hour, you’re woken up by a scream similar to the one that woke you up weeks ago.

You know you heard it. It’s not in your imagination. No matter what Michael wants you to believe.

You don’t even think about it as you leave your bed, practically storming down the hall, deciding to leave behind a lit candle for light.

You pass Michael’s bedroom, getting closer to the faint sounds of cries and screams.

At the end of the hallway lies a singular door painted blood red.

You’ve never dared to go through it because when you arrived at the manor, you were told it is off limits.

Every time you would look at it, the hairs on your neck would stand up, giving you reason enough to never investigate it.

But now, you know you have to, tired of not knowing the truth.

When you step through the doorway, the air feels heavy, like all the light has been sucked out, only leaving a darkness that sits on your chest, making sure you cannot take a breath.

It’s pitch black, stairs going down to seemingly nowhere or possibly the pits of Hell. So, it’s either idiotic or suicidal why you decide to go down them.

Once you go down the stairs, a sweltering heat is the first thing you feel, like fire blistering your skin. It’s so bright down at the bottom of the stairs that it reflects in the irises of your eyes.

Hundreds of candles are lit with a few fires alongside them. The walls seem to be made of the earth, like a cave.

You don’t exactly understand what is going on, crouched at the bottom of the stairs spotting Michael walking toward a man sitting on the ground.

Cries and screams of “no” fall from the man as Michael brings a small knife to the man’s throat.

He slices it open, like a bleeding smile, his cries ceasing.

A sadistic smirk paints Michael’s lips, a satisfied one that is so similar to the one he had when he fed you the pomegranate seeds.

That’s when you notice everyone else. Bodies littered around the room, both alive and dead. Blood seeping from their various wounds. The ones who are alive seem to be chained to the floor or the walls, like they’re being tortured.

You can’t help the strangled cry that leaves your mouth, your stomach churning, thinking of the horror that the man you’re married to has been enacting.

You catch yourself, slapping a hand over your mouth. But it’s too late. He heard you.

Michael meets your gaze, and it only takes you a split second to get up and run back up the stairs.

You rush through the house, finding the front doors that keep you trapped inside this prison from the rest of the world.

You fling them open, running barefoot past the garden into the trees that border the manor.

Except just when you think you’re getting somewhere, you’re entering another door, one that goes right back inside the manor.

You look around with bewilderment, your mind racing to try and figure out what is going on. But you just end up hitting a brick wall, wanting to collapse into tears while nothing makes sense. You feel like the floor is moving, like your world has been tilted.

“Don’t cry, little witch.”

You turn to find Michael at the top of the main staircase, looking at you with a sort of curiosity and feigned sympathy.

“What?” you ask, voice cracking.

He continues down the stairs, stepping closer to you.

“Stay away from me,” you yell, voice still thick with tears. “I’m getting out of here.”

“You can try as long as you want to get away. But you’ll always end up back here.”

His looming figure is blurry as you blink away the tears.

You let him get closer, his thumb wiping your tear-stained cheeks.

“You poor thing.” You hear him mutter like you’re some naïve little lamb that needs to be protected.

“You’re stuck here,” he explains. “Those seeds you ate bound you here forever. With me, little witch,” he adds with a grumbling chuckle.

“Why do you keep calling me that?”

“You don’t remember,” he observes, tilting his head at you, like you’re his science experiment.

He thinks for a moment before continuing, “I suppose it would be better if you remembered. Then we really can have fun.”

Before you can protest or say anything, everything goes black.

Certain details are still fuzzy when you regain consciousness, but you remember it all.

You were a powerful witch in a coven. You remember your sisters and your Supreme, Cordelia.

You also remember him.

Cordelia made a deal. She knew who Michael really was, so she did anything she could to send him away, lock him up within the gates of Hell.

She had to make a sacrifice, and it just so happened to be you.

She came up with a loophole for you. The problem is that you couldn’t remember what it was when you arrived here.

You look around at your surroundings for the first time, finding yourself inside a circle of lit candles.

You try to move outside of the confines of the circle, but it’s like an invisible barrier is up.

You lie back down in defeat.

There is no fighting him or getting out. You ate the seeds of the pomegranate.

If enough time had passed without you eating them, you could’ve gotten away from here like Cordelia wanted.

Now you’ve sealed your fate. You’ve been promised to The Beast.

It’s not long before a door creaks open. The man you’ll be forced to spend eternity with, walks through the door.

“I imagine that was an enlightening nap,” he says, fighting off a mocking grin.

You swallow, keeping your eyes anywhere but on him.

“I was right that it would be better if you remember. I can feel the hatred coming off you. I like that more than indifference.”

He pauses, his eyes raking over your body, like he’s hungry and you’re his next meal.

“Of course, other feelings haven’t changed. You know, it was so hard not to say anything that day in the library when I could smell how wet you were.”

You finally turn to look at him, eyes widening at his casual vulgarity.

“Or any of the other times you were clenching your thighs together. And all because of me,” he adds, eyes full of mirth.

“You’re lying,” you argue, but you can’t deny how warm your cheeks are getting.

“Am I?” he challenges. “It really wouldn’t matter. You’re mine to do as I please with.”

You try to hide the waves of heat you feel, but you can’t successfully hide anything from him.

“What would your Supreme think if she knew how easily you gave into me? If she knew how much of a whore, you are?”

He walks around you in circles like you’re prey that he’s just playing with until he’s ready to feast.

It’s dizzying.

“Maybe I couldn’t stop Cordelia from trapping me here, but I knew I wasn’t going to let you go. Her silly plan with the pomegranates,” he laughs. “I was going to pull you down to the depths of Hell with me. Which is where you’ll be for the rest of eternity.”

You shake your head, wanting him to stop taunting you.

“You’re a monster, Michael,” you harshly say. “I’m sure you feel more at home here.”

He just gives you a humorless laugh, something cruel settling in his eyes.

“Cordelia doesn’t care about you. Her hatred for me outweighed whatever love she had for you. She’s probably forgotten all about you.”

You try to pretend that his words don’t claw at your chest.

“But if I’m going to have my little witch by my side,” he continues. “She can’t be an insolent one.”

You instantly regret hurling any insults at him.

“I think it’s time you learn how things are going to work around here.”

He steps inside the circle, barely giving you time to move out of his way.

“On your knees. Now,” he says, his voice sounding gravelly.

You scramble to kneel at his second command.

“Tell me, little witch. Who’s your God?”

You look up at him, confusion in your eyes.

“What?”

The palm of his hand meets your cheek, moving your head to the side. A slight sting burns your skin.

“Let’s try that again. Who is your God?”

You just shake your head, trying not to let the tears fall from your eyes.

His palm slaps your other cheek, the same biting feeling spreading through your face.

“We can keep doing this until you get it right.”

At least when Michael walked the earth, he had many people to subject his torture too. Now, he just has you. And any other sorry soul that might cross his path, you think. The image of crimson pouring from that man’s neck is still burned into your mind.

“You, Michael. You’re my God,” you defeatedly say.

“And how should you worship your God?”

You catch his gaze, unsure how to answer.

All he does is move his hand to undo his pants, unzipping them until you get what he means.

Your eyelashes flutter as you move your face closer to his cock.

He’s already hard, so you give a small lick to his tip, tasting the salty evidence of his arousal.

He watches you start to put his cock into your mouth and down your throat.

A groan falls from his lips as you begin to fuck him with your throat, spit spilling out of your mouth as you choke on his size.

He puts a hand to the back of your head, helping you to take almost all of him. You can feel your own arousal coating your inner thighs.

“I knew you were good for something,” he says as you gag a little.

He surprises you by pulling you off him, letting you fall onto your ass while your drool hits your chin.

He’s quick to grab you, pinning you to the floor as he puts his weight on top of you.

“I want you to feel me cum inside you.”

He doesn’t waste any time before he rips your white nightgown off you, seeing your naked body for the first time.

His own clothes come off and you hate that even if you know how much of a monster he is, all you can think about is him fucking you.

His hands have your wrists underneath them, pushed into the cold hard floor. You can’t move if you wanted to, but you don’t think you would anyway.

All you do is blink, and his face has changed. His skin is paler with cracks running through it, almost like cement. And his eyes have gone black, no light or emotion to be seen, just darkness, an overwhelming evil you’ve never seen or felt before.

It frightens you. His body is colder as he pushes inside you, a growl coming from deep in his throat.

He doesn’t care to wait for you to adjust, he’s rough in his thrusts, setting a pace that already leaves you gasping for air.

“Michael,” you cry out. “It hurts.”

You know you sound pathetic which is almost worse than how full you feel, your cunt stretching to accommodate the size of him.

“Good,” is all he says.

He licks and bites at your breasts, playing with your nipples between his fingers. It’s both pain and pleasure and it drives you insane. You can feel him deep inside you, the tip of his cock hitting that soft spot nestled in you.

You wrap your legs around him, your walls clenching around him.

He kisses your cheeks, wet with tears from the pain you have felt. He just licks it up, finding your pain to be delicious.

His lips drag against your throat, teeth nipping at the delicate skin.

He whispers, “I can’t wait to see you swollen with my baby. Evidence of how you belong to me.”

You can feel your pussy squeeze him at the thought, the coil in your stomach getting tighter and tighter.

He captures your lips in a sloppy kiss as he moves his hand down to rub your aching bundle of nerves.

It’s enough for the coil to snap. It’s only moments later when you feel him twitch inside you, coating your walls with his cum. He bites down on your shoulder, and you cry out in pain as he laps up the blood that seeps from the wound, soothing it with his tongue.

He’s breathless as he collapses on top of you, his skin going back to its usual color.

Your mind isn’t clouded with pleasure anymore, but you bring a hand to the curls on his head anyway.

He moves his head slightly to look at you, a smirk forming on his lips.

“If only Cordelia could see you now.”

[saintlucretia]

Devil Wears a Suit

part Ⅱ

Pairings: Outpost!Michael Langdon x Female!Reader

Warnings: Blood, Mention of murder, Sexual harassment?, Explicit content, Curse words, Hot devil's son, Not proofread.

A/N: I tried my best, hope you enjoy.

A long night passed and the morning came. Well, if you can trust the clock. There were no windows at the Outpost for sunlight to penetrate the room, although even if there were some, it would not matter since after the bombs the sun disappeared behind a thick wall of fog. Fog of death.

I woke up with chills and sweat. Something haunted my dreams all night, making me shiver like a little lamb. Even though it was an unpleasant feeling, it added color to a pathetic parody of life that I have been having for the last 18 months.

Yesterday’s events bothered me. Moreover, they annoyed me. It was bright as day, that Langdon was messing with all of our minds, yet some part of my silly brain wanted me to believe that I was truly special. That he saw something, that no one else could.

I slowly walked to the bathroom. My bare feet touched the cold marble and I involuntarily shivered. I was tired. A mess. I washed my face and sighed, looking at myself in the mirror. Suddenly I noticed a motion somewhere behind, I turned my head and flinched. Snakes. They were crawling from the bath. Devilish creatures hissed showing me their poisonous fangs. I quickly ran out of the bathroom shutting the door behind me. What the hell? I caught my breath and sat on the edge of the bed. Are there snakes in my bathroom? I felt like I was going insane. Something cold touched my feet. Snakes. I jumped on the bed with a gasp. My closet and floor near it were full of them. They swarmed, intertwining with each other. Dozens of snakes. The other second I was already at the door, running to the hallway. Still barefoot in a white Victorian nightgown that Ms. Venable made us wear. I backed away from the room door and my back hit something soft. I turned around quickly, facing Michael Langdon's piercing blue eyes.

“Something wrong, Ms. Y/S?” he asked, preventing me from falling.

I stared at him for about a minute before words rolled out of my mouth.

“Snakes. There are snakes in my room.” My voice was hoarse, my fingers dug into the sleeves of his jacket.

He was clearly amused by my state, studying my expression. Langdon chuckled, "Oh, really? Snakes, you say?" His eyes shone with a sly glint. I watched as he pushed me aside and glanced toward the room I had just run from.  

"May I?" he asked, and entered the room without waiting for my reply. I slowly followed him. To my horror, as we entered I saw nothing. Snakes were gone. Impossible.

“They were here. I swear to God they were here.” I mumbled looking around the room.

I noticed Langdon’s face contorted in hostility. 

“Don’t say such stupid words, Ms. Y/S. It’s unnecessary here.” 

I closed my face with my hands and sighed. Considering my appearance and edgy state, I totally looked like a mad woman. Nobody believes a mad woman.

“I believe you,” Langdon said, approaching me as if he read my thoughts. “Strange things sometimes happen. But it’s just… interesting that it happened in your room.” 

"What do you mean by that?" I furrowed my eyebrows, my gaze searching his face.

“You probably know that snakes have always been representing sin. It’s their main dignity. Servants of darkness… if you believe in symbols, of course.”

I let his words sink in briefly, my gaze drifting to the ground lost in thought. Snakes… sin… Snakes slithering in the garden of Eden… temptress Eve... I understood where he was going.

I huffed at that, scoffing. "Is that your way of calling me sinful? A corrupted soul? Please, spare me the Bible lessons."

Langdon raised an eyebrow at my comment, a playful smirk on his lips. 

"Oh, I'm not calling you sinful," he said, leaning against the nearby wall, his eyes roaming over me from head to toe. “But as you said it… it would be amusing to see you getting corrupted.”

I rolled my eyes. "Then what are you calling me?" I retorted, my voice betraying a hint of irritation. I crossed my arms over my chest, trying to regain some composure.

Langdon chuckled at my defensive stance. His eyes gleamed with amusement. He pushed himself off the wall and slowly approached me.

"Are you always so feisty in the mornings?" he asked, his voice low and smooth.

I gulped as he came closer, a mix of annoyance and something else stirring inside me. His intense gaze made me feel cornered and yet, strangely… excited? My breath hitched as he was now standing directly in front of me, the space between us barely existent.

He raised his hand, a single finger tracing an invisible line down my cheek. "Or is it just my presence that gets you going?" he murmured, his voice dripping like honey.

The touch of his fingertip felt like a small electrical shock to my system. I tried to control my breathing, determined not to let him see me flustered.

"Your presence is hardly something exciting," I retorted, my voice a bit shaky. "It's more... irritating."

He smirked at my response. His finger trailed lower, down my jawline, and stopped at my chin, tilting my head up to meet his gaze.

“Well, as I recall it was you, who fell into my arms with fear, m?”

I hated how his words were effective. I hated how true they were. I hated myself for being so affected by his presence.

I tried to compose myself, my jaw clenched tightly. "I was just surprised," I mumbled, trying to sound nonchalant, but my heart was beating too hard for any nonchalance. “There were snakes all over the room.”

Langdon chuckled, his thumb left my face and he slowly started walking toward the door. 

"Indeed there were," he replied, casually leaning against the door frame. He seemed relaxed as if the topic was of no real importance.

I watched him for a moment, trying to decipher his nonchalant behavior. He was enjoying this, the way he was playing with me. The way he was playing with everyone. 

"Are you going to explain what happened here, or just act like it's normal for snakes to appear out of nowhere?" I asked, unable to hide the annoyance in my voice.

Langdon chuckled at my question, that arrogant smirk never leaving his lips. "Isn't the mystery part of the thrill?" 

He walked out, closing the door behind me, leaving me again excited and annoyed. Silence engulfed the room after he left. I was left standing there, my heart pounding in my chest, my mind replaying the events that just occurred.

I sighed and walked over to the bed, sitting down on the edge with a thump. The silence was deafening, the only sound being the steady beat of my heart. I couldn't shake off the feeling of… anticipation. Anticipation for the next time I would see him. That son of a bitch.

I quickly dressed up and went to the day room. We didn’t have breakfast there. We barely ate at all. Some kind of nutrition cube at lunch and water. Balanced diet. 

No one yet tried to break the rules of the house that Ms. Venable had set, so when I entered the room almost everyone was already there. Same people, same walls, same music. I was going insane.

I took my usual seat, the conversations around me blending into a dull murmur. I felt suffocated as if I was drowning in the monotony. All I could think about was the next part of the interview with a representative of the Cooperative. 

Sanctuary could be a lie, who can verify that? All this can be a way to manipulate us. Even Ms.Venable was afraid, she didn’t trust him but obeyed. We were a flock of sheep in a pen with a hungry wolf. 

I was lost in thought when I noticed someone settling into the seat beside me. I turned my head to see Mr. Gallant.

"You seem lost in thought," he noted, his voice soft. "Everything alright?"

“Yeah, just… had an unpleasant morning,” I answered shortly, not wanting to tell him anything. I replayed all morning and yesterday's events in my head again and felt anger in my body. It made my blood hotter. 

He had no time to answer, as Ms. Venable walked into the room. Her presence immediately silenced the conversations. Her expression was stern, and she scanned the room with a critical eye.

"Good morning," she began, her voice steady and authoritative. She leaned on her cane and raised her voice a bit. “Today we are having a special treat. Don’t be late for lunch.” She turned from us and slowly started walking away, her heels echoing through the walls.

“Oh, by the way,” she stopped for a second but hadn’t turned her head. “Ms. Y/N, Mr. Langdon is waiting for you in the interview room.” She said harshly as if his name was disgusting to her.

I could feel the eyes of the others on me as they turned their gazes in my direction. I stood up slowly, trying to seem unbothered.

The walk to the interview room seemed longer than usual, the silence only interrupted by my footsteps and my rapidly beating heart. I will beat this motherfucker.

I knocked on the door of his cabinet and entered. There he was, sitting on the table, as he was waiting for me in that position intentionally. His pose was casual but deliberate. His gaze met mine, a smirk on his lips.

"Ah, Ms. Y/N," he greeted, his tone mocking yet playful. "Sit down please." 

I tried to retain my composure, refusing to let him see any hint of my nervousness. I sat down in the chair opposite him, trying to maintain some distance, yet feeling the closeness of the cramped room.

"What do you want?" I asked, my voice steady but cold.

“Well, It’s the second part of your interview-” He began but I interrupted him. 

"Cut the act, Langdon.” I snapped, my voice coming out harsher than I intended. “This psychotic bitch with her ridiculous rules is already sucking our blood, I don’t want another arrogant dick here, who thinks he can intimidate us. We both know this isn't a real interview. Even if Sanctuary is true, selection is just part of your manipulation." 

Langdon raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips. "Oh really?" He stood from the table and slowly started to circle me, like a shark circling wounded man in the water. I instinctively followed his movements with my eyes. "And why would I come to the Outpost then?" He stopped behind me, leaning closer, his breath warm against my ear.

I felt my breath hitch as he came closer, his breath sending a shiver through my body. I resisted the urge to lean away, instead sitting ramrod straight in my chair.  

"You tell me," I retorted, my voice betraying a hint of the unease I was feeling. He continued to circle me, his presence making the room feel even smaller.

Langdon chuckled at my response, his footsteps echoing around me as he completed his circle. He stopped in front of me. Smile gone.

“You are scared. It’s okay to be scared.” His calmness filled my mind with anger.

“I’m not.”

He smiled and leaned closer, resting his hands on the back of my chair, boxing me in with his arms.

“Of course you are,” he chuckled. His gaze fixed on mine. “And you should be.”

His arms on either side of my chair made me feel trapped. I could feel the power radiating from his body, and I had to fight the urge to lean back. I inhaled his smell, expensive cologne. Sweet, yet bitter, he smelled like dominance. It was hypnotic.

His chuckle was almost mocking as if he knew the effect he was having on me. I raised my chin defiantly.

"Why would I be scared of you?"  I retorted, my voice steady despite the lump in my throat. “You are nothing more than the obedient dog of The Cooperative.”

As words rolled out my mouth, I almost immediately regretted saying them. His smirk faded, eyes flashed with irritation and something even worse. I felt fear scratching my heart.

"Careful," he warned, calmly. "I'd watch your tongue if I were you. You don’t want to lose it, do you?”

I swallowed hard, my bravado wavering under his intense gaze. His threat lingered in the air like a shadow, and I knew he meant it. 

"I'm not intimidated by your empty threats," I managed to say, without thinking. Dumb bitch.

Langdon chuckled darkly, and the sound made goosebumps rise on my skin. Before I could say anything, his hand shot out and wrapped around my throat, not really choking me, but just enough to be a warning.

"Empty threats?" he repeated, his voice a dangerous whisper. "You think I'm bluffing?" His grip tightened slightly, causing a gasp to escape my lips. I could feel my eyes widen in panic, but I tried to maintain a brave expression. “Tsk, tsk, I can already imagine how nice it would be to cut out that pretty tongue of yours.”

I couldn't help the whimper that escaped my lips at his threat. His grip on my throat was strong, constricting just enough to make me gasp for breath. 

"You... you wouldn't dare," I somehow managed to squeak out, my voice sounding weak and fearful. 

“Oh you think your pathetic life costs anything?” he leaned closer to whisper in my ear. “I could stab your stomach and rip out your little heart with my bare hand and no one could stop me.”

His words stung like a physical blow, and I felt my heart race in panic. He was deadly serious, looking at me like I was nothing more than a nuisance.

"Please," I whispered, my voice barely audible. "Please don't."

Langdon's hand tightened the grip around my throat. He smiled at my pleading, a cold, cruel smile. 

"Begging already?" he asked, his voice mocking. "And after you so bravely challenged me."

My hands scrambled to pull away his wrist, trying to loosen his tight grip on my throat. I couldn't speak, could barely gasp for air.

His smile widened at my futile struggle, he enjoyed playing. He leaned closer, his face inches away from mine. 

"This is what happens when you challenge someone with power," he murmured. "You get humbled."

I was unable to say a word, strangled by his hand, tears starting to well up in my eyes. The room started to spin, and my vision became disoriented.

“Still, have hesitation about my authority?” he asked, his tone almost soothing.

"N-no... no..." I managed to choke out.

His hand released its grip on my throat, allowing me to gasp for air. My body slumped against the chair, trembling uncontrollably. I took a moment to recover from his grip, my heart still pounding and my breath shaky. I felt smaller under his gaze, like a mouse trapped under the eye of a snake.

Langdon chuckled at my reaction, his eyes glinting with cruel enjoyment. "Pathetic," he said, the word dripping with derision. 

I looked away, unable to meet his gaze. The feeling of helplessness was overwhelming, and I knew he was relishing every moment of my humiliation.

Langdon reached out, his fingers gripping my chin tightly, forcing me to look at him. His touch was rough, a stark contrast to the smoothness of his voice as he spoke. 

"Now can you listen to me?"

I nodded weakly, my throat still sore from his assault. Langdon saw the fear in my eyes, and his smile widened at the sight.

"Good," he murmured, his hand slowly releasing my chin.

His gaze never left me, his eyes scrutinizing every reaction I made.

"You were smart enough to figure out the whole interview thing," he said, his tone casual yet calculating. "But you're not smart enough to know when to keep that pretty mouth shut." Langdon chuckled, a twisted sound that made me flinch. "Still, I appreciate the fire," he said. "Most of the other 'interviewees' are a little too... shallow, I’d prefer most of them dead by evening." 

His eyes never left mine, studying me intently. I tried to hide any emotion.

"They all tremble before the thought of going to The Sanctuary and willing to please me in any way. But you're…," he continued. "You're unfortunately not satisfied with just being an obedient pretty face. No, you have an attitude. And that, my dear, is your undoing."

“M’sorry.” I breathed out quietly.

"Apologies mean nothing," he said smiling. "The main thing is understanding how everything works. So tell me, did you truly understand the lesson here, or does your pretty little head need another reminder?" His tone was cold and condescending, making me feel even smaller. 

The fear that had subsided slightly came rushing back, cold and constricting - raw.

"No, no, I..." I stammered. "I understand." 

Langdon chuckled. "See, now that wasn't that difficult, was it?" he crooned, his hand reaching out to trace a finger along my jawline. His touch was mocking, a cruel gesture that sent a shiver of disgust through me and I diligently tried to hide it. It was hard not to move away. He seemed to enjoy my discomfort, his eyes glinting with amusement.

“Now we can have a productive talk.” He said, turning away from me. “You have brains, I’ll give you that. So why not put them in use, hm?” 

I could feel a slight sense of relief as he turned away from me, but it was quickly replaced by a wary uncertainty. His change in demeanor was unpredictable, and I had no idea what was coming next.

"What... what do you mean?" I asked, my voice betraying my unease.

He began pacing back and forth in front of me, his hands clasped behind his back.

"You're clever, resourceful... more useful from. And I hate to see potential go to waste."

He stopped in front of me, his eyes studying me intently. I could practically feel the gears in his mind turning as he weighed his words.

"But the problem is, you're stubborn," he said finally. "And that stubbornness leads to insolence."

He leaned in, his face mere inches away from mine. The smell of his cologne hit my nose again. Crisp and masculine scent.

"And insolence, my dear," he said, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Is a trait I don't tolerate."

“I understand that.” I said semi-calmly.

“Oh, you are a quick learner as well.” he murmured. “Good girl.” His tone was still mocking, and I hated how the praise sent a flicker of warmth through me. I tried to remain stoic, but his words were starting to chip away at my defenses. 

He stepped back, his gaze still locked on me. 

"I have an offer for you," he said. "An offer that could benefit us both, if you play your cards right."

“What offer?” 

“I want you,” he began. “To work for me.” 

“Work for you?” I asked dumbly.

He chuckled at my confusion, enjoying my surprise.

"Yes, work for me," he confirmed. "You'll be doing research, digging up information on others, doing necessary tasks, anything I need. Think you can handle that, hm?"

“But… how?” I wasn’t expecting that offer at all. And how the fuck should I dig on others?

Langdon smiled at my question, obviously finding it amusing that I wasn't catching on.

"How?" he echoed. "You seemed smarter a few minutes ago."

He leaned against the table again, crossing his arms over his chest.

"You'll be my eyes and ears, gathering intel for me. You'll tell me everything you see, hear or feel. And in return… I’ll put in a good word for you with the members of the Cooperative." 

I sat there, watching him silently.

He waited a moment, letting his words sink in. He was watching me intently, waiting for my reaction.

"I can see the wheels turning in your head," he began. "You're thinking about all the possibilities, aren't you? Life at The Sanctuary is heaven if you are friends with the authorities." He smirked.

He was right. The possibilities were spinning in my head like a whirlpool. 

But I knew there was a catch. People like Langdon never offered anything without expecting something in return. Something much bigger than collecting information. 

“What’s the catch?” 

He smirked at my question. His eyes were glittering with satisfaction, clearly enjoying his little game.

"Ah, are you always so suspicious or am I an exception?" he asked, tilting his head a bit.

“You think I shouldn’t be suspicious of the man who almost choked me to death a few minutes ago?” My tone filled with venom and I bit my tongue, afraid to anger him again.

“Don’t be so dramatic, it was just a friendly reminder” he said leaning closer to me, whispering. “And don’t act like you didn’t enjoy that, you are bad at hiding it.”

My heart skipped a beat, a mix of anger and embarrassment rushing through me. 

"Enjoy that?" I shot back. "Why would I enjoy being strangled by a sick psychopath?"

He smirked at my outburst, seemingly unfazed by my anger. 

"Now now, no need for name-calling," he said with mock hurt. "You can lie to yourself if it gives you comfort, but I saw the way you reacted, the way your body tensed, and the way your pupils dilated."

His gaze roamed over me in an almost predatory manner, making me feel exposed.

“Anyway, we have more important things to discuss than your sexual desires.” He smirked. “Accept my offer?”

His brazen, almost predatory manner was as infuriating as it was intoxicating. I felt my cheeks flush with embarrassment, but I refused to look away. 

"Accept your offer..." I echoed, trying to sound strong. "You haven't exactly explained the full extent of this 'job' you're offering. I need more details before I can even consider it." I forced the words past my lip.

“It’s easy. You are loyal to me and I promise you protection. It’s always useful to have an intelligent, pretty head on your side.” he said, looking me up and down. “Before me, you were all alone among bastards, but now I offer you my hand and I really don't recommend biting it.”

“So I have to become a backstabber?” 

"No, my dear, you're thinking too low. You won't be backstabbing anyone. You'll merely be... helping me to form a new society. " He paused, his expression growing more serious. "Don’t tell me you are afraid of getting your hands bloody, I saw the way you look at Ms. Venable. You are bloodthirsty."

My eyes widened at his observation. I wasn't surprised he had caught on to my hatred for Ms. Venable, but hearing him say it out loud was another matter. 

"I'm not scared of getting my hands dirty," I said, my voice firm despite the shiver that ran down my spine. "I'm just not fond of being used."

Langdon sat on the edge of the table and smiled, almost genuine, he looked at me like I was a little kid.

“Come here.” he said calmly and beckoned me with the nod of his head.

I hesitated, not sure whether to obey his command or not. I slowly stood up and walked over to him, stopping a few feet away from him. It was crazy how he was radiating comfort and dominance at the same time. 

“Closer. I won’t bite.” 

I stepped closer and his hand reached to stroke my hair.

“You are special.” His voice was surprisingly gentle as he spoke. His fingers tangled in my hair, his touch both soothing and possessive. “You can achieve a lot or… stay here and rot with others.”

His words were like a cold bucket of water, snapping me out of the odd comfort I found myself in. I knew he was right, of course. Staying here meant settling for a life on the sidelines, living in fear and boredom. Or just die.

"You don't play fair, do you?" I said, my voice tinged with irritation. "One second you're choking me, the next you're stroking my hair and promising me the world."

"And why should I play fair, hm? Rules don't work anymore here, chaos has won." He leaned closer. 

I found myself smiling despite myself. It was probably still a shock. My mind couldn't keep up with what was happening. There was a dangerous charisma to him, an irresistible charm that I couldn't quite explain.

"That’s a convenient excuse for you to do whatever you want," I shot back, trying to sound defiant. "No rules means no boundaries."

Langdon chuckled again, his smirk widening. His hand slid down from my hair to rest on my throat again, his thumb brushing against my pulse.

"Careful," he warned, his voice dropping to a whisper. "I might start thinking you're enjoying this a bit too much." I freeze. “And about the rules… I prefer bending them, instead of breaking."

I didn’t answer, waiting for him to continue. He smiled, clearly enjoying my reaction. His thumb traced lazy circles on my throat, making my pulse quicken involuntarily.

“You don’t want to die here, do you?” He whispered in my ear. “It would be a shame if such potential would remain undisclosed…” His hand moved lower, gently touching my collarbone. “In this body.”

His touch ignited a strange fire inside me. I desperately tried to ignore the way my body reacted to him, the way my heart raced and my skin tingled where he touched me. 

"You make it sound like I'm a ticking time bomb." My voice came out a little breathier than I intended.

"Oh, don’t sell yourself short, darling," Langdon purred. "You’re more like a grenade. A beautiful, deadly grenade.” His hand caressed my skin. “So… Do we have a deal, Ms. Y/N?” 

I stared down at the floor, then back at Langdon, my gaze calculating. After a few seconds I nodded. “Deal.”

“Wise.” He smiled. “Now let’s make that official.”

His left hand went to grab my waist, while the other reached out to take something from the table. Small dagger. I instinctively tried to pull back, but his grip on me was unwavering

“No need to be scared, little lamb.” He handed me the weapon with the hilt forward. 

“Official?” I echoed.

“Yes. Deal in blood.” His answer made my body flinch.

The cool metal of the dagger felt heavy and unfamiliar in my hand. 

“Aren't you afraid that I would stab you?” I asked him, trying to hide my fear.

Langdon chuckled darkly, liking the question. 

"You wouldn't dare," he said with absolute confidence. "You're far too smart and too… intrigued by me to do something so foolish."

His eyes glittered dangerously like he was daring me to prove him wrong. "And besides... I have a feeling you're far more interested in finding out what it would be like to be on my good side."

He directed my hand, in which the dagger was clutched, and leaned the tip against the palm of his left hand. “Cut.”

I watched in fascination and slight horror as the blade made a small incision in his hand, a thin line of blood forming on his palm. He didn’t even flinch, his gaze locked on mine the entire time. It awakened in me something feral.

“Now you,” he said, his voice low and steady.

He grabbed my hand, his grip gentle but firm, and guided the knife to my palm. The sharp pain was muffled by his lips on my cheek. The warm blood slowly pooled in my palm. 

He pressed his wounded hand against mine, the touch inflicted pain. The blood from his hand mingled with mine, the warmth and stickiness of it a strange and yet somehow comforting sensation. 

 "And with that..." he said, his voice hushed. "Our deal is sealed."

I felt the burning urge to press my lips to his. Without clearly thinking I leaned to his face, kissing him hungrily. He didn’t return the kiss, but didn’t pull away either. 

"Now, now, dear," he said, his voice a low murmur. "Don't get ahead of yourself. No need to complicate things…"

His gaze flicked down to my lips, his own curving into a smug smile. I was ashamed of my bold move and confused by his stubbornness. He was a man after all, wasn’t he?

"Complicate?" I repeated, my voice tinged with sarcasm. "Says the one who just made me swear a blood pact."

Langdon chuckled, amused by my attempt at irritation. "Ah, don't pout," he said, his hand moving to gently cup my jaw. 

"Just because I'm not giving in to your every desire doesn't mean I’m inaccessible.” He leaned closer to my ear. "But keep pushing, darling. I do love it when you act up, maybe next time you wil get lucky." He carelessly brushed his lips along my wound, making me whimper quietly, my eyes fluttering shut for a moment. God, he is killing me.

Langdon pulled back, a satisfied smirk playing at the corners of his lips. His hand left my jaw, and I found myself missing the feel of his touch already. I leaned forward, wanting him to touch me.

"Ah ah ah," he tutted, his voice mockingly chiding. "I can practically feel your eagerness, my dear. But I'm afraid I can't have you slacking off on our deal."

He gestured lazily to the door. "You should return to your routine. Can’t have Ms. Venable catching you slinking around here for too long."

I bristled at his order, but I knew he was right. I nodded grudgingly.

"Fine."

I started to walk toward the door, my wounded hand throbbing a little from the recent events. But before I reached the threshold, Langdon's voice stopped me.

"Oh, and Y/N?"

I turned back, raising an eyebrow questioningly.

His eyes were glinting mischievously.

"A word of advice," he said, his voice dripping with mockery. "Try to control that urge of yours. It's going to get you in trouble..." He paused, his gaze roaming up and down my body. "Or is it already too late?"

“Check it yourself next time,” I answered boldly and grabbed the door handle.

I couldn’t see his face, but was sure that he was amused.

"I might just take you up on that offer." I heard his smooth voice, as I left the room. "Off you go, little lamb." 

I shut the door behind me and leaned on it with my back. Probably that’s what it feels like to sell your soul to the Devil.

Have a good day <3

[babygorewhore]

Pure imagination.

Michael Langdon smut blurb.

No plot. 18plus! Fingering! Pussy slapping! Dub con use of powers! Hint of oral at the end! Short!

“Come. Approach me.” Michael demanded you with a soft voice and you immediately sat down in the chair. His long blond hair was tossed over his shoulder as his black button down shirt was flat against his muscular body.

“I assume you’re not going to join my side with my father. Choosing to stick with your coven…”He spoke the last word like poison and he leaned against his desk.

“I will never join someone like you.” You hissed at him but he waved a hand dismissively and crooked his finger.

“Stand.” He said and you obeyed. Approaching him, he gave you a gentle smile. His hands found your shoulders as he discarded your shirt. “Perhaps my mouth can persuade you.” He then pressed his large hand against your naked flesh and you shivered. His handsome features were consuming as he leaned forward and pressed his soft lips on your neck.

You gasped as his tongue darted out and tasted your sweet spot. Your core clenched as he growled in your ear. “You’re going to do exactly as I say, witch. Or else you won’t like the consequence.” He snarled as his eyes went back and he sank his teeth into your shoulder.

You moaned with pain and pleasure. Michael pulled you over to the desk and put you on top of the wood. His black trousered knee separating your legs as he lifted up your dark skirt. “Shall I bow before you, witch? Instead of the other way around?”

Michael dove down and ripped off your panties, his tongue lapped at your clit with fury and you clung so hard onto the surface your hands trembled as your eyes rolled back. He slurped and sucked the sensitive nerve as he inserted his tongue inside before returning back to the center. You clenched around nothing and he saw.

“Take my fingers,” He shoved two inside, showing no mercy as he pumped them upward and your arousal coated his knuckles. Your own fingers could never as you grinded down.

“Will you join me?” His words were muffled as he licked you like melting ice cream and you moaned. You wanted to protest and say no but his mouth was working you over better than you’ve received in a while.

Michael pulled back and slapped your pussy. You shrieked as he then shoved his fingers inside your lips, making you taste the sweet flavor of what he made you feel. “Will. You. Join. Me?” His voice was so low it was a rumble.

“No-“ You gasped as he slapped your pussy again.

“Will you join me?” Michael said in your ear then he tugged your lobe between his teeth.

You gaged around his knuckles that were coated with spit as your eyes widened. He flicked his other hand and had you then splayed on your back, mouth empty.

“You’re going to cum now.” He told you and you were hit with an orgasm that caused you to squirt. Your cum sprayed and dripped down your legs as you almost screamed and your eyes squeezed shut. He smirked at you.

“My little bunny. So determined to resist me. But you can’t. You should see how fucked out you look. You’re already my slave and you don’t even know it. Cum again.”

The overwhelming white hot explosion in your stomach came again and you started crying about cunt quivered as your entrance leaked cum. “Michael-please-“ you begged as another orgasm caused more tears. “Please-“

“Will you join me? Or will your own imagination about your freedom keep you from being a good girl?” Michael cooed at you and he leaned over your shaking form.

“Yes.” You sobbed and he shushed you. Stroking your cheek as he collected a tear on his thumb.

“That’s it. Surrender. And show me exactly how you want to worship me.”

@xxhellfirebunnyxx @marchsfreakshow @slvt4jamesmarch @ifeeltoofuckingmuch @icannot3 @fear-is-truth @taintandviolent @melodymunson I didn’t tag everyone because it’s so short.

[venusxxlangdon]

Of Mice & Snakes - Part 3. The Snake

pairing: Michael Langdon x fem!reader x Tom Riddle 

warnings: crossover, third-person narration, smut (threesome, dp, spitting, dirty talk), angst, character death 

words: 3k  summary: AU where Michael Langdon, Tom Riddle, and fem!reader are caught in an intricate relationship where power and lust go hand in hand. Sometimes the only way to forget is to take the memories out of your head and store them in the Pensieve.

This is the final part. 

Part 1 Part 2 Chapter's soundtrack: Ludovico Einaudi - View From the Other Side 

“He had my back long enough to stab me right into it”  The snow was falling slowly, covering the roofs and the broad shoulders of the sleeping ogres that were supposed to keep the guard with the thick layer of silver blanket. Ever since the Dark Lord took the reigns, each village had ogres and werewolves as the night watchers in case any of the rebels decided to attack.

It was a deep night, and only a few lights in the giant mansion that sprawled out for several hectares were on. They were dim but more than enough to give a soft glow to this one particular spot in the living room.  

The spot by a fireplace. 

A big emerald-green velvet armchair was right in front of it. A huge pile of parchment paper was on the left-hand side. It was impossible to understand what was written on the notes because the handwriting was small, and most parts of the sentences were crossed out - it seemed as if whoever wrote them was in an incredibly frustrated state. Or furious. In life, very often these two feelings go hand in hand. 

The flames from the fireplace cast warm light onto the walls with intricate gobelens. One of them pictured a family tree titled “The Riddle Family”. Some of the spots were burnt out indicating that certain members were excluded for reasons only a pure-blood wizard would understand and consider fair. 

But nobody knew that the entire thing was fake. Tom Riddle came from a muggle family, and all these “excluded” members were nobody but imaginary people that he put on the wall to give the impression that he cared about the purity of his blood. 

He was sitting in the armchair with his long legs crossed. Pale, aristocratic hands rested neatly on the handles. His eyes were closed, his breath even. He was used to evenings like this. After all, he did not have anyone left. Death Eaters could not be counted on. They were just mere subjects, loyal to their Lord, but their loyalty was based on fear and, in some cases, pure insanity. They could not be trusted. But who could he ever trust? The one he considered his brother (not by blood, but by how close they were) betrayed him.

Tom squeezed his fingers around the handles, making his knuckles bleed white. No matter how many years passed, he could not forgive Langdon. He did not betray just Riddle. He betrayed their master plan, almost ruined everything, and over what? A fucking bitch. Just from the thought of it alone, he felt the burning rage boiling up in his stomach and rising to his throat, making him gulp heavily. He rubbed his eyes tiredly and sighed. As he stretched one of his arms, his fingers lightly brushed the pile of notes next to him. He pulled one. 

“Maybe you will wrap your mind around it one day, Tom. She loves both of us,” the scribed letters said. The rest of the paragraph faded with time, but Riddle knew it by heart. 

Y/N never loved any of them, and if Langdon had ever believed otherwise, he was a complete fool and had no right to be his ally in the first place, Riddle thought. She was scared like a little mouse that she was. It was her plan all along: to make them fall for her and then flee when the time came. She pretended to be by their side. Luckily Riddle made her give the unbreakable vow, and that was the only thing that saved his plan in the end. The little bitch could not escape the ancient magic and paid for her dishonesty. 

But she was useful. Thanks to Y/N, Michael and Tom did manage to access her father’s archive and find clues about the location of the Elder Wand. Riddle could feel the weight of it in his pocket. It was real and it brought him the power he had always lusted after. He did not even flinch when he had to point it at his friend, brother, and ally - Michael Langdon. By that point, he had already found out that Langdon was on Y/N’s side. 

He remembered vividly the animalistic roar “Avada Kedavra!” and how the green light coming from his wand pierced through the green flame of Langdon’s wand and then went straight to Michael’s heart. The blond wizard fell dead on the cold concrete of the Glenfinnan Viaduct that Hogwarts Express used to go over every year with the students on board. 

Only one Lord could exist. 

Riddle crunched the piece of paper in his hand and threw it into the fire; the flames swallowed it immediately. He could hear the ticking of the ancient clock. He glanced at it quickly. Midnight. 

“Actio”, he commanded and immediately, a small coffee table with little glass bottles appeared in front of him. Tom sat straight in his armchair and took one of the tiny bottles in one hand. With the other hand, he dived into the folds of his gown and pulled out his wand. He closed his eyes. Let’s see what memory he could get rid of that night. Riddle pointed the tip of the want at his temple and whispered:

“Pensieve”*

A thin silver string started to appear at the end of the wand, stretching out from his head. He pulled a bit more letting it come out completely, and then he stored it right into the prepared bottle. The silver ribbon peacefully rested inside the glass. He knew what it was about. 

“Who are your Lords, darling?” he whispered in her ear while holding her by the neck as she lay atop him with her arms around his torso. Her hair was a mess, mouth hung open as she succumbed to the pleasure of two thick cocks stretching out her abused holes. Riddle was on his back, penetrating her throbbing pussy, and Langdon was behind her stretching her tight ass. He could tell Y/N was on the verge of crying from how overstimulated she felt.

“We can’t hear you”, Michael panted and reached out to her head to yank it and make her face Riddle’s smirk. She winced and looked at the man in front of her through hooded eyes. She was so full. 

“You,” she answered barely moving her spit-slick lips, and her eyes rolled back at the particular hard thrust of Michael’s hips. Tom slid his hands down her body to grab her thighs and brought her dipper onto his cock. He could feel Michael moving inside of her too. Both of their cocks were slipping in and out with a filthy, sloppy sound. 

“Good girl”, Michael’s colossal palm landed on the delicate skin of her asscheek, leaving a red print. She moaned and involuntarily, out of pure reflexes, pushed herself back onto him. “There you go,” he praised and spread her wider, admiring how her asshole was taking him. The beads of sweat were collecting on his forehead, blond locks sticking to it. 

Riddle’s hands were on her breasts that were bouncing in front of his face. He squeezed her nipples tightly eliciting another loud moan from her. He passionately attached his mouth to hers, savoring every sound she made. He kissed her hungrily, drinking in the power he had over her. They had. Y/N was their little puppet. He could feel how Michael pulled out of her just to fill her back up. The sound of his balls slapping against her ass and their low moans was bouncing off the walls of the room. 

Tom’s lips moved down her neck, stopping at the junction that connected her neck and the shoulder and giving it a harsh bite. Hard enough to leave a dark-purple mark. He wanted to claim her in every way. She already had a black snake imprinted on her arm, she had invisible strings of the vow around her wrists, and she had bite marks and hand prints all over her body. 

“C’mon let’s move her”, he commanded to Michael and the blond man moaned disapprovingly. “Sharing is caring, Langdon”.  

Michael gave her a few more thrusts to enjoy the tightness of her ass and complied. Before he moved her on her back, he proudly spread her gaping hole to see the result of his work which felt incredibly humiliating to Y/N. She whimpered when both of the men quickly flipped her over and she ended up on her back with her legs spread and Riddle between them. His eyes were black now, two abysses staring into her soul. Her head was spinning. 

“What do you think, love?” he cooed, bringing his thumb to her lips and tapping on them ordering her to open her mouth. He leaned closer. She could feel his hot breath fanning over her face and the pressure of the tip of his cock at the entrance of her wet pussy. Her eyelids flattered and her cheeks turned scarlet when Riddle let the string of his saliva land on her tongue. “Take it.” 

With that command he snapped his hips, thrusting deep inside of her, making her back arch. He was pinning her to the bed with the weight of his body and she did not have any other choice but to keep taking his big, hard cock moving ruthlessly inside her velvet walls. 

“T-T-Tom”, she whimpered spreading her legs wider. Tears welled up in the corners of her eyes and she extended her arms, sliding her palms down the silk sheets looking for Michael’s hand. She needed to squeeze it for support, to have something to hold onto. Langdon laced their fingers together and brought his face close to hers. 

“You look beautiful, darling”, he praised and reached his hand to her clit. His long fingers massaged firmly, sending bolts of pleasure down her spine. “Let him fuck you, be a good girl. You know you need to serve your Lords well, baby.” 

“Oh yes, such a good puppy,” Riddle muttered and closed his eyes, giving in to the pleasure of her pussy around him. So good. So tight. 

Michael’s plump lips met her parted mouth. He was kissing her lazily. He slid his tongue along her bottom lip and cupped her flushed cheeks. He brushed them with his thumbs almost lovingly. 

“Let him cum inside your pussy, baby”, he whispered, “and then I will fill your mouth, yeah?” 

As if she had a choice. She would do anything. She nodded and drew her knees to her chest allowing Riddle to go at a much deeper angle. He cussed and pushed onto her knees driving his cock in and out of her heat. His face was mere inches away from hers. He smelled like sweat and cologne. The suffocating smell of sex filled her nostrils. His hips moved at an animalistic pace, the muscles of his abdomen flexed with each thrust, and his groans indicated that he was close. 

“I’m gonna cum in her”, he panted and Y/N moaned at his words. Michael was still holding her hand, and when Riddle leaned closer and whispered, “Look at me”, all she could do was oblige. She looked at him with wide eyes feeling his cock twitching inside of her. She let out a long, low moan when after one last thrust a hot, sticky fluid spilled inside her pussy. She watched Riddle throw his head back in pure bliss, feeling his cock pulsing deep in her. She felt incredibly full. Everything was wet. When he pulled out, she winced at the stretch and from how messy it all felt. Thick drops of pearl-white cum leaked out of her folds right onto the silk sheets. 

“Keep your legs up”, Michael ordered. Y/N was in a trance. She could barely feel her legs, her heart was beating violently like a trapped bird in a cage, and her breath was still uneven. She saw Tom tiredly rolling over the other side of the bed leaving her at Langdon’s mercy. 

“Put your hands on your ass and spread your holes for me”, Langdon continued. She slowly cupped her asscheeks in her palms and very slowly parted them. It felt filthy. Her pussy quivered and pushed out another thick drop of cum. Good Lord. 

Michael reached his hand to gently tap her clit and collect some of the cum that Riddle left. He rubbed it between his long fingers and then smeared it around her tightened nipples. He grabbed his cock with his other hand and guided it into her mouth. 

“Make me cum”, his low voice sent shivers down her spine. Y/N did not have any energy in her left. She slightly turned her head, adjusting her position on the pillow to take his cock at a better angle. She parted her lips and took a deep breath. Michael did not have any patience for her to take her time and run the tip of her tongue along his head and then take it inch by inch. As soon as he felt the warmth of her mouth, he pushed his hips forward making her take it all. Y/N gasped and almost let her teeth scratch the sensitive skin. Langdon hissed and grabbed her by the hair, guiding her head. He held her in place while driving his cock in and out of her mouth. She could barely keep up with the pace, choking on the impressive length. 

“Just like that”, he approved. “Keep going.” He found particular pleasure in the noises her throat made each time he trusted into it. Her dripping saliva allowed his cock to glide easily. In and out. In and out. His eyes traveled down her body right to the spread pussy and ass that she still had on full display for him. With a low groan, Langdon pulled his cock out of her mouth and slapped her red cheeks with it. The girl was panting heavily. He was holding her by her neck as he kept rubbing the tip of his cock against her lips. 

“Good girl”, he murmured and slapped her one more time. “Stick your tongue out.”

He let go of her face but she still kept it close because she knew what was coming. Obeying to his request, Y/N took her tongue out and looked up at Michael. His nostrils flared, usually perfect locks were messy, and his broad chest was covered in sweat. She knew him so well by that time already. She could tell he was close just by the way his breath hitched. She watched him jerking himself off and the wild thought of how badly she actually wanted him to cum on her enveloped her mind. 

It was something in her eyes that could not be hidden. Something always about Michael that made her look at him in “that” particular way no matter what he and Riddle kept doing to her. Something Riddle never experienced. Something he hated the most and wanted to annihilate at its origin.

For a second, Tom Riddle wanted to break the glass with the string of memory inside of it. But instead, he squeezed it tightly in his palm and put it in the chest pocket of his gown. He will find a proper storage for this particular one. 

Suddenly a creaking sound of the door opening interrupted his thoughts. He smiled. He did not even need to turn his head to know what it was. 

“You are back my love,” Riddle smiled as the snake made its way to the armchair. Its long muscular body was strong and flexible. The snake wrapped its thick body around one of the legs and rested its giant scully head on Tom’s thigh. Its pitch-black eyes stared at him blankly. “Did you have a good hunt?”

The snake blinked. Tom’s fingers were drawing a lazy pattern on its head, it felt sleek and cool under his fingertips. How fascinating was the fact that once smart enough to come up with the plan to make fools out of the two most powerful wizards, this very head was now only capable of a primitive string of thoughts! It no longer had its identity, no recollection of the family she wanted to save so badly, no memory of Michael and him and what they used to do together, and most importantly, no memory of what she made Langdon feel. She was his loyal servant. 

“That is the price you paid, Nagini”, Riddle whispered, taking the snake’s head in his palms, his palms caressing the sides of it. He loved her new name. The name he picked for her many years ago. “Just like he paid his.” 

*In Harry Potter universe the memory extraction spell is unknown 

Author's note: I’d like to thank everyone who supported Part 1 and Part 2 of this series that I wrote 4 years ago (*whistling*). I read every single comment and ask you sent me.  Michael x reader x Tom pairing found its continuation in a plethora of drabbles and one-shots I wrote back in my active days on tumblr. The longer ones are included in my masterlist and the rest you can find in the tag #Michael x Tom x reader on my blog. Enjoy!

[april-bandu-embata]

Give in

Okay this is the first fanfic I ever publish. I had a dream last night and it is the foundation of this. Just a short little thing. :)

Note; English is not my first language, sorry for any errors that may pop up.

Pairing: Outpost! Michael Langdon/You

Warnings: Light smut (not really), I guess it could be considered dub-con to a degree as well because of the situation and... well, Outpost!Michael being Outpost!Michael...

Anyway, here goes.

I am tied up in the middle of a dimly lit room, my hands above my head. I am naked except for a silk nightgown. I try to rustle the chains to get free, but no... I am tightly secured. I whimper, my wrists are in pain. I don't remember how I got here. The room is dark, and I try to look around, but it's no use. No lights are lit. I feel helpless, my chest heaving, nervous.

My head dart towards the large doors as they suddenly open. A tall, beautiful man with long, blonde hair, clad in black, steps in, hands behind his back, head tilted slightly to the side. Michael Langdon. I tense up. He boldly looks me up and down, a cocky smirk plastered on his face. He then let outs a "Hm!", smirks and brings up a finger and does a flicking motion with it. I gasp as I feel my nightgown come off and fall to the floor. I shiver at the sudden change of temperature, but it soon dissipates as I look at the man. He has something strange about him... It's almost like he radiates warmth, in a weird way. I study him, his smirk, his beautiful face... But I can't avoid feeling aroused by his mere presence.

His smirk grows wider, more cruel, more predatory as he lowers his gaze again. A minute or so pass where he just stares me in the eyes. I try to look away, but I can't, it's as if I'm spellbound.

He moves closer, and starts circling me. I feel like prey. He says nothing. He just circles, looking at me. It feels as if he's taking in my scent, measuring me, figuring me out. It is uncomfortable and arousing at the same time. This goes on for a while, until he stops behind my back.

I feel his breath on my neck, and I turn around to see that he's now very close. I startle a bit and let out a small whimper.

"Hush." He whispers, voice soft, brushing my hair to the side, caressing it gently. "You..." He pauses for a bit, leans his head down so he is on my level, and brings his nose close to mine so that they barely brush against each other. "...want this." A soft moan escapes me. There's no way I can hide how I react to this man's proximity.

He lays his hands on each of my shoulders, leaning closer, breathing into my ear. "Give in..." He trails a finger down from the top of my head, down my spine. "...to me."

I shake, aroused, trembling, aching for him. But I know he plays with people, and thus I am stubbornly holding back, a defiant look on my face. Finally he moves again, now stepping away a bit, and stops when he stands in front of me. Very close. He puts a finger under my chin and bring it up so I'm forced to look at him. I tremble, letting out a small whimper again. I feel myself fading, my will faltering. I want to beg.

He looks at me with a look I haven't seen from him before. He's still seductive, calculating... But there's also a hint of something else there. Unreadable. Vulnerability? Is this what makes people finally fall?

He looks me intently into the eyes.

He breaks away and swiftly moves to the door. He flicks his wrist, and I feel the chains release me. He turns around to look at me, lying in a heap on the floor, stroking my sore wrists.

"Come." Hands behind his back again, he moves his head towards the hallway, motioning for me to follow him. Then he turns around and walks out. I hesitate a bit. What just happened? Where is this going? What does he want with me?

I stand up, legs shaking, not knowing what to do...

I hear his footsteps recede out in the hallway, and I feel a sense of urgency, pressure to reach a decision fast. This could backfire. But it could also be my only chance. Hastily my feet move in the direction he went.

---

Let me know if you liked it :3

... and if you'd like a continuation!

(I'm open to suggestions abt the continuation btw!)

[marrziy]

Guia

Esse cantinho é um atalho para todas as minhas obras. Encarem como uma prateleira de imagines e fanfics. Os links para as histórias serão adicionados sempre que eu postar. Está tudo separado por fandom, personagem e gênero, tem até um padrão de cor para cada tipo de trama:

Romance

Hot

Terror/Dark

Drama/Sad

Soft/Fluff

séries l filmes l franquias

Bem-vindos ao meu quartinho da bagunça! Caso esse post se perca no meio de muitos outros, basta passar no meu fixado, vou deixar o link da masterlist por lá. Aqui tudo é misturado – série com filme e filme com série – mas quando o conteúdo for mais vasto, vou criar listas separadas com diferentes categorias.

OUTER BANKS (série)

• Rafe Cameron

"Entre tapas, ciúmes e fodas"

Parte 1 (drama/sad)

Parte 2 (drama/dark)

Parte 3 (hot)

"Assopre o pavio" (drama/dark)

SCREAM (franquia)

• Ethan Landry

"Eu tirei a virgindade de um assassino?" (hot/um dark de leve)

• Billy Loomis

"Pertença e obedeça" (dark)

• Stu Macher

"Pertença e obedeça" (dark)

• Wes Hicks

"O que acontece à meia-noite?" (hot)

STRANGER THINGS (série)

• Billy Hargrove

"Ebulição" (hot/romance)

• Jim Hopper

"Delinquente" (hot)

AHS (série)

• Kyle Spencer

"Ele aprendeu a sentir tesão" (hot com alguns poucos elementos sombrios)

• Tate Langdon

"Doente" (romance/terror/dark)

MARVEL (franquia)

• Peter Parker

"Vem relaxar de ladinho" - Tom Holland (hot)

• Tony Stark

"Bilionário ordinário" (hot)

• Steve Rogers

"Dura matina" (hot)

MARROWBONE (filme)

• Jack Marrowbone

"Decisão de não deixar partir" (sad)

BONECO DO MAL (filme)

• Brahms Heelshire

"Os bonequinhos de Brahms" (terror/dark)

HAZBIN HOTEL (série)

• Lucifer Morningstar

"Afago ao rei deprimido" (romance/sad)

THE BOYS (série)

• Antológicas

"The Boys x Male Reader" (hot)

Homelander/Hughie/Billy x MaleReader!super-ass

HALLOWEEN (franquia)

• Michael Myers

"Pobre Michael" (terror)

Outras listas:

HOT | masterlist

[enchantedruin]

Whispers in the Sanctuary; A Michael Langdon One-Shot

Summary; Michael pays you an unexpected visit while you're praying alone || SFW || Gender-Neutral Reader || warnings: religious talk

word count; 661

-~-~-

The church is quiet—so quiet that the slightest movement seems like a disturbance in the sacred space. I’m alone, or at least, I think I am. The faint flicker of candles casts long shadows across the stone floor, and the air is thick with the scent of incense and the weight of unanswered prayers.

I kneel at the altar, my hands clasped tightly, fingers entwined as if holding on to something—or someone. My whispered prayers are desperate, tinged with doubt and fear, and I can’t help but feel that my words are falling into the void, unheard.

And then, I hear it—a soft, almost mocking chuckle that sends a shiver down my spine. I don’t need to look to know who it is. The air around me seems to chill, the light from the candles dimming as if in response to his presence.

“Praying, are we?” Michael’s voice is smooth, a touch of amusement laced with something darker. “Do you really think your words will reach Him?”

I open my eyes but don’t turn around. “Why are you here, Michael? This place... it’s not for you.”

“Isn’t it?” I can almost hear the smirk in his voice. “Faith, temptation... they’re two sides of the same coin, aren’t they? Besides, I thought you might need some company. After all, it’s lonely praying to someone who’s not listening.”

I finally turn to face him. Michael leans casually against a pillar, his arms crossed, his gaze intense and unyielding. He looks so out of place here, yet somehow, it’s as if he belongs—like a dark stain on something pure, a reminder that even in the holiest of places, sin lingers.

“My faith isn’t something you can manipulate,” I say, though the uncertainty in my voice betrays me. “I’m stronger than you think.”

His smile widens, but there’s no warmth in it. “Are you? You speak of strength, yet here you are, on your knees, begging for answers you’ll never get. Why do you cling to something that only causes you pain?”

“Because... because I believe in something greater than myself,” I whisper, more to myself than to him.

Michael steps closer, his presence almost overwhelming, like a shadow that threatens to swallow me whole. “And what if that something greater doesn’t believe in you? What if all your prayers, all your sacrifices, are for nothing?”

His words hit me like a blow, and for a moment, doubt creeps in. But I shake my head, trying to push it away. “I won’t let you twist my faith, Michael. I admit you tempt me, but you’ll never have my soul.”

He leans in, so close that I can feel his breath on my skin, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Oh, but I don’t need your soul... I just need you to doubt. Because doubt, my dear, is the first step to falling. And once you fall... well, you know how much I enjoy catching you.”

The intensity in his eyes is almost too much to bear, but I hold his gaze, refusing to back down. “You won’t win,” I say, though the tremor in my voice betrays my fear. “Not this time.”

Michael straightens, a look of something almost like respect in his eyes. “We’ll see,” he murmurs, turning away. But before he leaves, he glances back at me, a smirk playing on his lips. “Keep praying. You never know who might be listening.”

And just like that, he’s gone, leaving me alone in the silence once more. But the church feels different now, colder, darker. I try to resume my prayer, but the words won’t come. All I can think about is the doubt he planted, the seeds of uncertainty that now take root in my mind.

But I close my eyes, force myself to focus. I can’t let him win. Not here. Not now. I take a deep breath and begin to pray again, my voice steady, even if my heart is not.

[antikristvs]

Tagged by @blodbranddod ❤

last song: Sparta by Sabaton

favorite color: black, dark red, dark green, dark purple, soft pink, white, dark blue, silver, golden...

last movie/show: Yellowjackets (S2) and Run

next on my watchlist: probably AHS, I have many seasons yet to see... Not sure about what movie.

last game: Gardenscapes

last book: The Iliad

sweet/savory/spicy: depends on the mood, mostly spicy

relationship status: single

last thing i searched online: "is archangel michael a general or a commander" (people use those as synonyms with him, and I'm trying to decide which one to pick in my works)

current obsession: the Antichrist, the Book of Revelations (Biblical lore in general), angels/demons, the occult, the stories I'm trying to work on, the characters I create, horror media...

greatest flaw: that's classified information

fic i'm currently reading: none, I just write them (mostly focused on my AHS: Apocalypse works right now)... I've already read all Michael Langdon x Cordelia Goode fics I found that caught my attention, I'd gladly read more, but there aren't any

[celestialrequiem]

Opera/Chapter 1: A Mistake Waltz

Serial Killer!Michael Langdon x Y/N (ballet reader)

Plot: A delusional fan obsessed with a ballerina...what will Langdon do?

Warnings: Obsessive fan, delusional Michael Langdon, talk about parents death, reader is a perfectionist, and passionate but has self doubts, not sure if this should be a warning but also toxic sibling?, mention of death, noncon voyeurism, depicted graphic murder, mentions of arsenic poisoning and dissection.

Let me know if i missed any warnings please! and this will get darker lol, please don’t read if you don’t feel comfortable! 

Disclaimer: This fic is inspired by one of my favourite films Opera by Dario Argento (one of my favourite filmmakers ever!) and Phantom of the Opera! This is dedicated to those who inspired me they know who they are by now, one them has their name is in the fic! Also of course based in the 70s, none of my fics are based in the present lmaoooo.

Word count: 2.5k

Also the pictures don’t depict the reader, I will be mentioning Edgar Degas paintings in the chapter hence why I used those pictures, but I tried my best to make it inclusive! I am new to writing!! 🥺

7th of April 1974, “Dana, The most viewed ballerina since Anna Pavlova, The Dying Swan” was on New York Times, It was also the talk of their small town Beacon, New York. Shared between people and all over the radio and television in New York City. Dana is loved internationally from Russia, New York to Paris. Nicknamed, “The Pride and Bride of New York City”. However, her sister Y/N isn’t.

The Opera House, despite it being in a small town, it attracts a lot of attention thanks to Dana. Nicknamed the “Broadway of Beacon”, now the best-known landmark, a performing arts facility with 3000 seats in the concert hall, it is host to symphony concerts, choir performances, and ballet shows. With the neoclassical architecture built in the mid 19th century; marble Corinthian columns and bronze busts, expensive velvet and gold marbles for the interior.

The only place Y/N wasn’t allowed access to are the mysterious cellars under the main stage, their manager telling them that the owner’s daughter died there, Unknown circumstances. Her unborn child was found bloodily deformed, hidden in the window seat of the owner’s office.

Rumours were going around of a killer on the loose, murdering women in their 20s. Another rumour states that the murderer likes to uses arsenic, to knock them unconscious and then dissect them, as if they were his own musical instrument. The owner was able to hide it from the tabloid, to avoid hurting the image of the Grand Opera House. The sisters never bothered checking it out, after hearing about the daughter that will remain forever nameless, what didn’t help is their manager brushing it off every time they tried to ask questions, concerning the mysterious disappearance of the body. 

—————-

Before their performance of Swan Lake Acte Un, Y/N and Dana are in their room, Dana’s station is full of roses, dandelions and daisies bouquets varying in colours like their costumes, accompanying the flowers are 100 fan letters delivered by hand, while Y/N’s station is empty like Dana’s love for her sister.  

As Dana finishes applying the tinted red blush on her cheeks, Dana looks up to Y/N in their shared mirror and sees Y/N looking at one of her fan letters, stating in big red lines with drawn hearts all round it that she is a way better performer and more flexible than her sister.

Y/N lost in thought, her only fan didn’t send her a scented letter today.

“You know nobody cares about you, except for me…. of course”, Dana utters with a sarcastic tone

“Thanks, I guess”, Y/N snaps out of her ritualistic obsessive routine of snooping through her sister’s letters and continues applying her mascara.

The manager, Jade yells at them to finish up as the show is about to start.

They start finalizing their visages and their looks with the help of their assistant, tying down the final net layers.

The costume was designed and hand sewn by a known French Designer, Étienne Lefleuve. A blue tutu with silver diamond glimmering against the big studio lights, and accompanying the tutu, a bodice that contains a black tulle, decorated with feathers and rhinestones, and a wing-shaped piece of lace around the waist, the design going all the way to their chest.

However, Dana being Odette, her costume stood out so much more with her top skirt garnished with sapphire lace embellished with feather patterns.  White feathers decorating her earlobe, and a cut crease look, a black eyeliner that help contrast her emerald eyes.

-

For Y/N, The Opera house is her haven but also her inferno. Despite her strong apparent appearance, before a performance, she recites “Memento Mori” three times before entering the stage. To ease her nerve and to remind herself that she is doing what she is passionate about, her first love and only love, ballet.

-

As the Y/N opens the big red wide curtains to the audience of the Opera’s house, she sees him.

He is here again.

A man in the audience always stood out to her, sitting in the front row seats. Long blond locks, plump lips and blue eyes as the colour of a clear blue sky in a summery day. Wearing the same Victorian-like attire when he sees her performance every weekend: a crimson necktie, and a black cloak staggering on the seat, showcasing his broad shoulders. He doesn’t seem like he belongs here... in this time period. He didn’t seem to fit it in. An eidolon. Like her.

He has been infatuated with her for months, obsessive and crazy about her. His mind has caged her dazzling movements.  She is not Odette, but he always imagined that she is his Odette, his swan princess.  Mailing her letters every morning to her workplace as soon as he opens his eyes and sending her letters to her private home every time the sun goes down without her sister noticing. Hoping one day instead of the hassle of mailing her letters, he would just voice his comments to her. Scared of rejection, for now he loves her from a distance.

He watches her movements attentively on stage. She dances flawlessly, like fragile wings trembling by the wind. Her eyes are closed to focus on the rhyme of the music, lost in its’ chorus. Effortlessly, she moves from one spot to another, her feet touching the ground with her pastel blue slippers, her tuff going up and down from the intensity of her movements. He thought she looked divine, her ballet costume, full of rhinestones making her look like an angel with a halo surrounding her, forgetting about the outstanding scenic design behind the players.

——-

While dancing figuratively on stage, forgetting her sister is around her, she decides to squint her eyes open. She sees a single tear dropping from his exquisitely structured face, trickling down his sharp cheekbones. Her heart skipped a beat, this time not from the rhythm of the music but rather from the emotion portrayed on this young man. She never saw him cry before. Was he crying because of her? She thought to herself. First time being swayed by something else besides the music. Halfway through Act 1, Scene, in the heat of the moment, she trips over her sister.

She was overwhelmed with the interest of the stranger in her art and in her. Overwhelmed with the sadness echoing from his deep sombre eyes matching the main’s theme,“the music of the grief soul” 

She did not realize the pain coming from her sister, tell she heard her scream echoing in her eardrums, and a clashing sound.

“Ouch!”

She looks at her sister’s pained ankle, did not realize she was in pain too, till she left the stranger’s gaze.

She was shocked.

She made a mistake.

She was hurt.

Not bothered by the physical pain but by her perfectionism routine being ruined.

She looks at the crowded audience again, but the seat that her eyes mostly lingered on the past shows was gone..his red velvet seat was now empty. She, however saw his back figure, walking out of the big theatre. She felt that he was the performer and not her, his hands opening the black curtains to exist the theatre.

Her performance moves him softly, makes his heart beat and makes him feel human again, but then when he saw her in pain, he discovered a new emotion he never saw linger on her face. he realized he is like the devil feeding on her pain, but he didn’t mind, His mind is consumed with the thought of her delicate small neck and the rhythm of her heartbeat, on his thick veiny hands. He thought even Mozart would be envious of him.

Despite the distance, she stood out to him. He liked how her eyes changed when they are in pain, her eyebrows furrowed forming a shape similar to a swan’s smallest feather.  He liked that now he has another different vision of you in his head now. 

It will be easier to kidnap her with a tortured ankle, less work and less the fuss, he thought to himself. 

She will be his eventually, in desire and in flesh. He however wasn’t sure if he wanted her for a quick fuck, wanted to kill her, or actually wanted her. He usually obsessive over specific women that he wants to murder, an instinct he calls it, but things were different with how he felt with her, his heart usually skips a beat from the thrill of murdering and seeing blood pouring out of bodies, he thinks it’s like looking at dripping chocolate sauce on a sundae... on a hot summer day.

He never forgot the day, he discovered he actually sexually desires her. After a performance, she was in the changing room. The assistant helping out with the complicated layers of the garment, untangling the ropes of the bodice. He can see her refection on the standing baroque mirror, and that was the first time he saw her completely unveiled. His lustful eyes raking down her body.  Instead of his heart throbbing, this time it was his cock. Unconsciously, His palm was over his bugle, rubbing himself through his trousers, while looking at her slowly getting revealed in front of him like a little present. From then on, he couldn’t fuck any of his victims, every time he tried to, her naked body would flash as a mental image, like an intrusive thought.

——-

The curtains close, ceasing her view of the audience in horror. Despite the warmth coming from her pained ankle, her whole body felt frozen.

“you fucking jealous bitch, you will pay!”, Y/N hears her sister’s voice drifting further away in the distance. The only thing that isn’t drifted is her heart thumbing loudly

She felt chatter behind her, but out of shock she stood still, feeling disconnected from reality. 

Wrapped inside her head with so many questions left to answer, the tabloid already didn’t like her, what will happen now after this? She never realized he was that captivating till she saw a single tear fall from his eye. She thought even Adonis didn’t stand a chance.

Did she move him that much? She felt that she was out of breath, adrenaline bursting into her views, which usually for her, comes from the effect of  Tchaikovsky compositions and not a man’s endearment.

Is it an endearment? 

his eyes portrayed so much agony, or did she misinterpreted that? What was weird is there were no emotional reaction to when he witnessed her mistake waltz.

The Buffy manager wearing a black suit and tie, taps her shoulder, making her snap back to reality

“what was that all about?, we had to end the show early because of your fuckin mistake!...act one!” Jade’s voice burning Y/N’s eardrums

Oh right…her sister.

She looks at the wooden floor on the right side, where her sister was performing she realized she wasn’t there anymore..

She blinks her eyes several time and pinch her wrist to make sure she is not dreaming, still giving her manager her back. Her pacing heart felt like a wrecking ship drowning and her head pounding with tension

“I am talking to you!”  The manager twirls her body around with her brawny hands to face her, while her bulky body overshadows Y/N’s figure and the lights of the Opera house

“where is my sister?” She quietly mutters the words, looking at Jade’s eyes that has a menacing glare.

“Well, where do you think?, she states sarcastically, “ they took her to the hospital after that stunt you pulled”

She felt her body tense up, when did that happen? And also why didn’t they think about her pained ankle too? She thought to herself.

“How’s she?” Her voice is soft, worried about her sister.

There was a small stiff pause

She hears her manager sigh, “Well, we will find out”

She lower her gaze, trying not to get emotional and hoping no tears come out of her eyes.

“I know what you’r thinking”, the manager who usually is expressionless, snarled with a smile

When Y/N’s manager uttered those words, she look at her, to give her a sign to continue what she is getting at. Jade’s sly smile turns into and a smirk, “ but you ain’t going with you’r sister” she leaves her hardened grip that was on Y/N’s shoulder to circle around her physique.

“Your sister has to be treated separately, especially being the “The Pride and Bride of New York City”…you know better than that Y/N”, Jade stated over her shoulder.

Of course, the favourite sibling. Y/N felt her heart ache, She has never been the first choice for anyone. Even their parents before their car accident which sorrowfully took their lives, 5 years ago. They were hardly any childhood photos of Y/N. They always left Y/N with her self-conscious thoughts when Dana criticized her and judged her.  She never got positive affirmations from their parents like when graduated at the top of her class in high school and when she won a swimming competition at a local sports club but they congratulated and threw a party for Dana when she won a small piano competition at school.

Maybe that’s why she didn’t feel bad over her sister’s stay at the hospital, caused by her mistake waltz.

Y/N thinks back to her manager, she knows she was not her favourite but she was never this blunt with her.

Y/N huffs and decides to start walking away from Jade to help stop her pestering inner dialogue, “No worries, I don’t need to be treated anyways, I got it myself”, She, however, suddenly felt a sharp pain, like knives piercing deep scars on her tender skin, but she didn’t want to show her manager that she was throbbing in pain. Trying to hide her whimpering by biting her mouth and slowly going to her room, taking hard steps despite the slippers. She can feel them echoing through the hall.

-

She gets back to her room, finding a letter waiting for her. Surprised she received one, especially after what happened today. 

By the colour, She can tell it was from that person; a ballet slipper pink envelope with a red wax steel stamp. With no name attached to it, but they call themselves “Your Beloved”, which kind of did put her on edge because isn’t that what people address their lover? 

But it did make her heart swell to know she is this person’s first choice. For once.

She smells the envelope like she always does and the scented letter habitually has a soft fragrance of vanilla mix with lavender remains of a flower that once bloomed. It is as if they know that her favourite flowers are lavender and her favourite ice cream flavour is vanilla. She never mentioned that to the press, not that they did care about that. They always interviewed her sister over her.

She opens the yellowed letter that always seemed somehow ancient, precisely with the scripture writing but this time the cursive writing is decorated in blood red, it did not feel like a fountain pen or a quill this time.

She realizes only two sentences are written.

“Don’t worry my beloved, I will protect you….I am coming for you….

“Despite seeing your dashing performances, I get so tired of watching. I want to start doing.”

But there are initials this time.

Signed M.L

Who the fuck is M.L?

taglist: @bloodcoatedeclipse​​ @king-with-no-crovvn​ @9layerdevilfoodcake​

@revengeoftheantichrist @plymptxn-reborn @waltzwiththedevil @wroteclassicaly @angelicmichael @ramona-thorns @anakinsslag​ @ritualmichael​ @sojournmichael  @kitty4860 @deliciousartpoliticsdean @darkladyslytherin​ @wasteland-babe​ @chicaluna2410 @we-did-it-joe  @beautyiswithinchaos  @devilish-hecate @rexellaaa @thatbit5  @d3monslust​  @luciahoneychurch @saamwilsonn​ @codyfernuk​ @melodylangdon @anojaisasleep​ @manmadewhorror​ @wroteclassicaly​ @naughtygranger​​​ @brooklinn13​ @wormycircumstance

(I tagged people who wanted to be tagged or who I thought might be interested to read the fic!) 

Sorry Dana , your character is kinda bitchy lmao😭, wanted to dedicate you somehow!!!🙈

[taehyungsgrowl]

Could you do some hc about sex with Jim? ORRRR having to fake an orgasm with Jim?😂

OOF! I’m not super comfy w the headcanon format bc I think I suck @ them lol so I wrote a lil blurb instead!

also a shout out to @dark-jim​ for stopping by the chat after i posted a snippet of it for feedback. thanks for the inspo ;)

also please be nice; i dont normally write anything “rough” bc i’m a soft hoe ahaha so even though this is “dark!jim” i still think it is not as.. kinky or rough as it could have been if someone else had written it. 

Jim stirred in his sleep, faintly feeling the bed rattle. He thought the soft panting was coming from his dreams until he felt her hand gripping at the sheets beneath him. His eyes opened slowly, turning his body around; the faint moonlight that shown through the curtains, providing a soft blue glow to her face. Her eyes were closed as she was lost in bliss; unaware of the ogle he had her in. 

“Y/N?” his raspy voice brining her back to the present. Her hand shot out of her panties, she felt embarrassment cloud her face. 

“Jim!” she choked out, as he reached to turn on the lamp on their nightstand. 

There is an evident smirk on Jim’s face when he turns to face her again. “Hm, did my greedy little baby want to cum again?” he chuckled leaning over to kiss her jaw. 

Y/N avoided his gaze. There were no secrets between her and Jim, but she didn’t know how to tell him that she didn’t… finish during their earlier session. 

“Baby, if you wanted to cum again all you had to do was ask.” he lifted her chin up to meet her eyes. 

She felt the heat rise to her cheeks, “Yeah, but I didn’t want to wake you just because I didn’t.. you know..” she let the sentence hang, letting the words process in his mind. 

“Wait, you didn’t cum? But you..” his brows furrowed, “You faked it.” he sounded almost hurt, saying it out loud.

Y/N sheepishly nodded her head. She could see the anger rising in him. 

“Hm,” he rubbed his chin, biting the corner of his mouth. “You should know better than to lie to me, Y/N” his eyes were blown wide, as he kept his steel gaze on her.

“No secrets, remember?” He placed a hand on her hip and positioned himself above her.

“I - I know. I’m sor-” she was cut off by the hand that gripped her throat. His grasp was firm, but he didn’t block her airway. 

He released her neck, using the back of his hand to stroke her cheek. They were dancing on a thin line. She knew Jim liked to tip toe on the edge. The contrast in the way he touched her made her dizzy. 

“Was my cock not enough for you that you had to use your pretty little hands to try and pleasure yourself?” Jim searched for her hand. He tightly gripped her wrist, causing her to gasp lightly. Her fingers were now brought to his lips, he sucked on them, obscenely making a show of it. He could taste her arousal on them and it only made him tighten his hold on her. 

“Answer me,” he spoke lowly, inching himself down her body, until the tip of his nose was pressed against the waistband of her panties. He could smell the heat radiating from her and it drove him mad. He wanted to be the one to give her that release. He needed it. 

Her entire body was on fire. She felt Jim’s eagerness to please her along with the rage that built in him for lying to him.

“N-no,” her eyes were on his now. Jim rubbed the tip of his nose along the waistband.

“No? Hm..” he pulled his face back, meeting her with an evident frown. “Are you saying my cock can’t satisfy your greedy little cunt?” He spat out the last word.

He harshly tugged at her panties, letting the band snap back on her skin. She winced at the slight sting it left.

“I don’t even think you deserve to cum.”

“Please, Jim, I’m sorry.” she begged, writhing beneath him. 

“Oh, you’ll be sorry.” he chuckled darkly, ridding her of her thin undergarment. 

His hand came down against her pussy, once, twice, three times. He felt her stickiness with every lift of his hand. 

“Jim..” she whined, cowering back into the mattress. 

“Jim,” he took his voice up an octave, mocking her. Jim rolled his eyes at her, imitating the panting sounds she made to wake him. 

With one final slap to her pussy, he pushed three of his fingers into her core. Y/N yelped out at the intrusion. 

Jim curled them in slowly, his calloused fingers rubbing against her walls. Sliding his digits in and out of her with ease. He slid them to her swollen clit and pinched it between his fingers. Y/N sucked in her breath at his harshness. 

Y/N brought her hands to his bicep, digging her fingernails into his sun kisses skin. He was toying with her and she knew it. The way he pumped his fingers inside her, never quite getting to where she wanted. She was in for a long night.

Jim lowered himself, coming face to face with her dripping cunt. His hot breath fanned over her, sending a shiver down her spine. He noticed the way her body shifted on the bed, ready to be devoured by him. Jim sucked his plump lips, watching the way her eyes darted from his eyes to his mouth.

Jim licked a stripe down her navel following the path of smooth skin to her clit. He let out a cold, jarring blow to her pussy. The coolness contrasting to her gathering heat. “Ah..” she tried to move herself higher up on the mattress, only yo be held still by his hands on her hips. 

“Uh, uh...” he shook his head. “You wanted to cum. And you will. On my command. Understood?” 

Y/N nodded her head, her mind filled with utter devotion. 

Jim slapped her cunt again, “Understood?” he asked again, cocking an eyebrow at her. Does she really want to test me right now? He thought. 

“Y-yes, I understand.” her reply was shaky. Her thoughts were on the way the palm of his hand felt rough against her softness. The way the stinging lingered with her even after his hand was gone. 

“Good girl.” he lowered his lips on to hers. His tongue slowly parted her entrance, barely dipping in. She could feel the tip of his nose rest against her sensitive areas; she tried moving her hips to feel anything, but she was kept still by his gridlock hold.

She bit back the frustrated groan that wanted to escape her lips. Fucking Jim, she thought. 

Her heart was pounding in her ears as he lapped at her wetness. Hot tongue on wet flesh. The slushing sounds echoing through their bedroom. 

Jim came up from the haven between her legs to kiss and nibble on the inside of her thighs. “No,” he kisses her, “secrets,” he bit her skin, “got it?” he marked her with a hickey. “You’re mine. This pussy is mine. I’m the one who makes you cum.” He encompassed her sensitive bud of nerves between his lips. 

Sucking. Biting. Kissing. Licking

Y/N was seeing stars. The familiar feeling building in her tummy. Tied in knots, desperate to be undone. “Jimmy,” she whined. “Please, I - I can’t” she clenched her teeth. 

He latched on to her clit massaging it with his tongue until her felt her shaking beneath him. He hummed in response. Hearing the way she moaned out his name, chanting it like a prayer, causing him to become hard again. 

She unraveled for him. Her pleasure seeping through her. Jim’s tongue and assailant on her tender intimacy. 

As her breathing returned to normal and she came down from the high of her rapture, Jim kissed up her body. He left a wet trail of kisses up her tummy and in the valley between her breasts. He smiled into her skin, feeling her heart still racing under his kisses. 

Jim hid in the crook of her neck; he mumbled sweet nothings to the skin under her ear. He sent tickles down her neck, as he praised her. 

“Did so good for me.” he kissed her neck. “You’re my priority.” he promised her. 

Jim flipped them over to have her resting on his chest. He stroked her hair as she drifted to sleep. Her light snoring comforting him back to his slumber. 

--

okay sorry i didnt know how to end that fjgfedkrja so hope you enjoy! 

tagging: Tagging: @codyfernss @1-800-bitchcraft@langdonsoceaneyes@maso-xchrist @sweetlangdon @michael-langdon-appreciation@dunc-donut  @yourkingcodyfern @heownstheuniverse@yourkingcodyfern@duncandimension @duncan-shepherd@michael-langdxn@ccodyfern @daadddysprincesss @missantichrist @lovelylangdonx@xtheinevitableprophecyx  @cryptid-coalition@queenofthedarkandsparkles@queencocoakimmie@ghostiesbedroom @sammythankyou@ritualmichael @tickled–pinkmoodpoisoning @nana15774@missantichrist@americanhorrorstudies @et-tu-bitch @eternal-langdon@kykybright98 @starwlkers @icylangdon@thorsdiana @langdonsrapture@langdonsrapture@avesatanormalpeoplescareme@flowersiren@gremlinkween @litenbaby @infernal-langdon @kissydevil@langdonsdemon @fireandreignmichael @sloppy-little-witch-bitch26 @wroteclassicaly @divinelangdon @theharvestgirloffire @jimmlangdon @mega-combusken @michael-langdon-owns-my-soul @littlehouseofleaves @ccodyfern 

[syven-siren]

Mini-Series Aesthetic Board

Aesthetic Board to accompany the (soft!)Hawthorne!Michael mini-series I am currently writing. You can find the links in my masterlist. (Sorry I couldn't link it; Tumblr won't let me)

The individual images are not mine unless stated otherwise. Credit for all individual images belongs to the original owners. The moodboard/collages are mine. Please give credit if you are using my moodboards/images/collages. Thank you!

[michael-langdon-appreciation]

Announcement for Jim Day!

So because I’m based in the UK I’m gonna open my asks and requests up at 12:00pm GMT (7:00pm EST) tonight. I’m going to be answering all day tomorrow and I’m so excited to engage with you all.

Send me all your Jim love! I’m going to be answering asks, requests, kinks, ideas, blurbs and drabbles all day for as long as I can before I pass out! 💙

If you have any Jim Mason content, gifs, series, oneshots or headcanons feel free to tag me or send them my way and I’ll reblog every single on of them. 

I’ll be getting back to Michael, Duncan and Cody once Jim Day is over 😊

[wardlow]

Ok but... I’m not ready for this... but I am?!

[langdonismsss]

Beginning of the end: Michael Langdon X Reader

Chapter 3: The deal

Description: A young girl is about to start her life after high school. Unfortunately for her, a certain blonde who has never accepted no for an answer learns of her existence before he is to put his purpose into play

A/N: Recently just learned that this pic was slowly starting to head into the direction a few other Michael Langdon fics have gone. Im starting to change my plot as I don't want them to be that similar, please accept this train wreck of a chapter

Warnings: Swearing, violence, mentions of death and dead things.

Word Count: 1.7K

 Your eyes slowly fluttered open. Your mind was fuzzy, but quickly you started to realize the danger you were in. You were in a small confined space, not even aware of which way was up. Hands and feet and mouth were bound with tape. Voices bounced around outside of your area. Shutting your eyes as tightly as possible you try to think. This was that creepy fucking lady. You should have just listened to your gut and avoided her. 

   “She’s still alive though right”? 

   It was a man’s voice, muffled behind the door. 

   You would just pretend you were sleeping to see if he said anything about his intentions.  You shut your eyes and went limp. There was shuffling outside for several minutes and muffled voices before the door opened. The light poured in and exposed two silhouettes. You didn’t have to see to feel their presence. They were powerful and authoritative. 

   “Are you fucking kidding me Miss Mead”, he snapped. It was soft but angry. The weird woman was who you assumed, is Miss Mead. You made a mental note so you could tell the police about that when you got out of here. 

   “Her mouth is taped how can she breathe”? It was him again. The lights were turned on. You had to resist moving your eyes. Otherwise it would give away your position. The tape was abruptly ripped off your mouth. You whimpered but hoped they hadn’t noticed. Hopefully he just thought you had stirred in your sleep.

   “Leave us!”, he shouted. You jumped in your skin. She chuckled nervously and left. The man kneeled beside you. His hand started to caress your face. His thumb running over your cheek bone gently. Your heart stopped. 

   You could physically feel it stopping. You were so fucking scared right now. His hand pulled away to rest his elbow on his knee. His chin pressed against his knuckles and he sighed.  “How stupid do you think I am”? 

   The tears burst just like harsh waves breaking through a dam. You cried on the cold floor not knowing where the hell you were right now. The sobs racketed through your body uncontrollably. “Please let me go home”. 

   He reached forward and grabbed your wrist rather harshly, yet his voice was gentle, “No”. You stopped feeling sorry for yourself and looked up at him. He looked uncomfortable and like he had no clue what he should be doing. He wasn’t very good with people. 

   “Why am I here?”, you whispered, finally taking in his appearance. He had medium length blonde hair, with fluffy curls. His bone structure was sharp, and he had puffy pink lips. His eyes were the most breath taking thing about him. A bright baby blue. In front of you was the most ethereal man you had ever seen. He looked so much like an angel, but his eyes had undertones of evil. His aura was dark and disturbing.

   “So you did all of this. And for what?”, you spit at him.

   His hands were still on your arms and he pulled you up to your feet fast. “For my fathers plans”, he said coldly. You narrowed your eyes and tried to read him. He seemed lonely. He didn’t know what the fuck he was even doing. 

   “Can I get your name at least”?

    Harshly, you were forced forward. 

   “What the fuck”, you hissed. He snorted and dragged you through a creepy hallway. You peered a look over your shoulder and saw that they had you locked in a closet. A small little janitors closet. The sign on the door read Kineros Robotics. You knew this place. It was on the news and they had been experimenting with cloning illegally. 

   Sharply, the man tugged you down another hall. At the end of it was a clear office cubicle. Odd. There were two men sitting in there, feet on their desks, and throwing things across at each other. The doors opened and both men sat up straight. They both had such ugly bowl cuts, you grimaced. 

   “M-Michael, we didn’t expect you back so soon”, they both stammered out. 

   So the man responsible for your kidnapping, was Michael. It was angelic. He looked over at you, face softening. “Have a seat”, pointing to the soft cushiony chair. The two men infant of you almost choked when you sat down. You weren’t sure why. Michael pulled the small, hard wooden stool over to the table and sat down, he was too tall and slouched over slightly. It was almost comical. “Can you boys just give me the device?”, Michael snapped. They were obviously very scared of him. Despite your current situation, you didn’t feel scared. You felt this strange sense of security. That was almost more scary than the actual situation. 

   “Jeff go grab it”, urged the brunette. 

   “On it”, he jumped up and walked over to the large white industrial cabinet. He opened the doors, revealing lots of small knick knacks and several very scary looking objects and devices. 

   “See this is the one we’ve been working on for awhile now. Just to track down Ryan Reynolds if we ever see him, right Mutt”, Jeff said nervously. Mutt said nothing. 

   Michael grabbed it from Jeff and turned to you. It looked like a water gun, but with two very large and very sharp prongs on the end. In shiny red cursive, it said Cooperative on the side. “Now, Y/N, I know you don’t understand what’s happening”, he shot a look over to the men and they got up abruptly and left. “But I’ll explain it to you before we get home”. 

   We?

   “Do not be alarmed when I tell you this”, his blue eyes pierced through your soul. You gave him a slow nod. “I’m the antichrist. To bring forth the end times for my father. To reset life on earth”, he said smoothly. It’s like he actually believed what he was saying. 

   Laughter echoed around the office. Michael looked at you puzzled. “Really? You kidnapped me just to tell me about some rubbish antichrist? And that you are him? Grow up buddy and go to church”, you chuckled, wiping tears from your eyes. As scared as you wanted to be, this whole situation was too ridiculous. 

   The room went cold. Like ice. His face had gone stone cold. “Michael?”, you said nervous. 

   “Could a normal man do this”? His hands swished and then snowflakes fell, coming from seemingly no where. Now you were getting a little scared. Again. 

   “Could a normal man do this?”, he repeated, instead this time throwing his hand up. The thumbtacks on the desk flew off the desk and pierced the wall. 

   “Could a nor-“

   “Listen I get it. Can you just kill me already”? Michael came out of the angry trance and looked at you sorrowful, mouth agape. 

   “Oh you think I’m going to kill you”? He let out a sad chortle before his eyes became dark. “No my love, you are going to help me end the world”. 

   You went quiet. Michael smirked and continued. “You might have noticed some signs these last few months. Like crows, and dead things. My father has hand selected you for partnership. I need…”, he stopped and gave you a dreamy look. “Balance. I need some form of sanity when bringing about the end of times. We are going to start a new world Y/N”, he tilted his head and gave a genuine smile.

   “I would rather fucking die”, you cried out. You stood up so fast the chair fell over and you turned to run. Michael used his powers and shut the doors infant of you. Banging on them you cried. “Let me out”! 

   “Don’t make me do this Y/N”, he bellowed. 

   “Please! I have a life I haven’t lived yet! I want to go to school, and party and get married. Maybe one day have kids and even grand kids! Theres so much I haven’t seen yet or done, please don’t do this. Wait another thousand years if you have to, just not now”, you started to cry again. This was the most you had ever cried. 

   Michael dropped to your level and started to caress your face. “Don’t cry, I can’t handle crying”, he whispered. His eyes were glossed over. “We can do all that in the new world, just tell me whatever you want and you can have it. The world is in your hands”. 

   “You have to understand how sudden and crazy this is right”, you managed to choke out. 

   “I know, that’s why I’m going to give you 1 month. With all the protection and money you could ask for. You can travel and do whatever you feel like. With whoever. You have one month to make a decision”. Your heart dropped. That was the opportunity of a life time. “All I ask, is you consider marrying me”, Michael said sternly. 

   “Thats it? And if I say no?”. 

   His lips went into a thin line. “I’ll have to do what I must”. 

   You swallowed hard, “If I were to marry you, and help you end the world, can I save who I want”? 

   “Whatever you wish for, and it’s yours”, Michael said softly.

   “Okay, I understand. I’ll meet you here in one month”, you said and stood up off the floor. Michael started to click his tongue. “Thats not all”, he picked up the gun and put it on your stomach. “For all that protection and money, you need this”. He pulled the trigger and there was a sharp pain in your tummy. Your jaw dropped and you grabbed the spot in pain. It felt like a small piece of plastic was just inserted into your gut.

“Thats a small chip I’ve just inserted into your stomach. The Co-operative will be tracking you now. When you get home there will be a man waiting for you. He’s going to hand you a card. That card is your ‘bank card’. There is no maximum amount. That man will be stationed outside of your house for the next month. I will always be around”, he smiled. “Ill be seeing you soon”, Michael waved his hand infant of your face and it all went black.