#fire and reign!michael x reader smut

[langdxn]

The reader coming to visit F&R!Michael at work and he lets her sit on his lap while he works, and she teases him n stuff which ends with her getting fucked over his desk👀😩

I know this trope has been overdone so much so I’m taking it a little differently... 🖤 (gif credit unknown, sorry!)

Your knock on his office door startled Michael back down to earth from mind-numbing Outpost planning.

“The fuck—who is it?” His call was snappy and seething through gritted teeth, barely lifting his head from his laptop as the door swung open behind him.

The clack of your heels as you paced in made his heart drop.

“Baby, I’m so sorry,” he sighed softly, rinsing his face in his hands. “I lost track of time.”

“It’s okay,” you cooed, clacking your way toward his seat and draping your arms over his shoulders. “You’re a hard-working man, Mr Langdon.”

“This work isn’t worth missing date night with my beautiful wife,” Michael groaned, holding your hand as it flowed over his collar and planting a kiss to your soft fingers. “I promise I’ll make it up to you tomorrow.”

“How about now?”

Your hands snaked down his chest, trailing teasingly over the buttons on his crisp black shirt.

“I—I’m just trying to finish this one thi—“

“You don’t have to do anything, sweetheart.” Sauntering around his chair, you towered over Michael before sinking into his lap, crossing your legs and settling comfortably. His palms rested on your thighs only to discover they were bare, his fingers brushing over your skin to meet the rising hem of your coat.

“You’re... you’re wearing...”

“Nothing under the coat, darling,” you confirmed with a grin dancing in the curl of your lips, leaning forward to peruse his laptop screen. “Now what were you getting on with before I so rudely interrupted you?”

“Haha, seriously?” Michael snorted dismissively, playfully slapping his hand on your leg. “The fuck am I supposed to work now?”

“Easy, just carry on as if I’m not here.” Looping an arm around his neck and leaning out of his way, you gazed at Michael hoping he would return to his concentrating pose, the Antichrist edition of the Thinker with his chin resting on his fist.

Instead, Michael cocked an eyebrow at you and pouted gently.

“You’re the devil,” he scoffed, agonisingly prizing his hands from your thigh and slamming them to his keyboard.

“The devil’s wife,” you corrected him obediently before dipping into his chest and pressing your cheek to the nape of his neck.

Michael succeeded in signing off two strongly-worded emails before you not-so-innocently shuffled your thighs on his lap, fidgeting softly and letting a sigh tumble from your lips. In return, Michael growled under his breath and cleared his throat.

“That didn’t take you long, princess,” he murmured, typing away the urge to break his concentration.

“What didn’t?” Your coy tone wasn’t fooling either of you but it afforded you another chance before his self control shattered.

“Baby, please...”

This time, you waited on another sternly-tapped email and a call to an Outpost construction manager before trying your luck again.

“Baby,” you cooed lightly, ghosting your fingertips down Michael’s shirt and resting them atop his belt buckle, tapping away impatiently at the metallic obstacle standing in the way of your perfectly-planned seduction. “What would you say to a scheduled work break in, say, one minute?”

You could practically hear Michael’s eyes rolling into his head as you tucked your finger beneath his obstructive pants, his hips weakly bucking into your touch.

“That’s it, Mrs Langdon, stand up.”

“Yes sir,” you complied almost too easily, immediately leaping to your feet. As Michael rose to meet you, he twirled his finger to gesture you to spin on your heels.

“You know what this means, don’t you princess?” Michael’s honeyed tone poured into your ear as he gathered your hair and brushed your locks over one shoulder, leaning in to pepper butterfly kisses into your neck while his hands laid waste to your coat, pooling at your feet.

“Yes, sir,” you fawned, melting into his tender touches knowing full well they’d soon turn into vicious grasps, white knuckles clenched around your throat and livid welts blooming across your backside.

“Lay down on the desk for me, baby girl.”

You obliged, resting your cheek against the cool glass of the table. In sure and certain knowledge of his next move, you linked your hands together and held them behind your back, expecting Michael to wrap his belt around them in a flash.

“Good girl,” he cooed.

The clanking of his buckle sounded softer than usual, slower, tentative. The whoosh of his dress pants tumbling to his feet sounded graceful, delicate, sensual. The hand that rested on your cheek as he lined himself up with your already glistening entrance was gentle, respectful, kind.

Michael’s hips keened towards yours ever so slowly, dipping his tip between your folds at a glacial, teasing pace and bottoming out so gently that you cried out weakly.

“Mi... Michael, why aren’t you—“

“Fucking your brains out?” He finished your sentence with confidence, punctuating with a smooth glide of his length almost all the way out of you, leaving only his tip lightly kissing your core.

Michael leaned down to press his chest flat against your spine, his teasing breaths ghosting over your exposed neck.

“Because that’s exactly what you wanted me to do,” he whispered, curling his hips to pour his shaft inside you even slower. “You teased me gently, so I’m returning the favour.”

“Michael, please...”

“‘Please’ didn’t work for me earlier, sweetheart,” Michael growled lowly, lips spreading into a smile against your skin as he drew his hips back and softly entered you again. Squirming meekly beneath him, your back arched wildly into his tender motions begging for more friction.

“So you’re going to lay there like a good girl and let me make up for that missed date.”

[writing--whore]

Kinktober - Thigh riding

Pairing: Michael Langdon x reader

Word count: 1.5k

Warnings: d/s, piv smut, voyeurism, orgasm control, mask kink?

Red hot pleasure - like the fires of Hell - rushed through your limbs. You were going to cum. You couldn’t stave it off any longer.

“I’m going to cum. Michael!”

His hips snapped against yours at a merciless pace while his hand clutched your throat, not enough to cut off your air supply but enough for you to feel the pressure.

“Don’t you dare.” He warned. “I haven’t given you permission yet.”

Your whole body was starting to shake with the approaching orgasm.

“I can’t, I can’t!”

His fingers curled tighter around your neck.

“You can and you will.”

It was absolute torture trying not to cum especially with him choking you. Stars filled your vision. You couldn’t do it. You wanted to please him but your orgasm was barrelling towards you and there was nothing you could do to stop it.

You cried out as your pelvis thrusted against his one last time and you came.

Michael froze, his expression turning absolutely feral. You came down from the high of your orgasm very quickly - pleasure instantly replacing itself with fear.

He pulled out of you but remained on top of you, his weight holding you in place.

“What did you just do?”

You wanted to lie but there was no hiding it. “I- I came…”

“Without my permission?”

“Yes, Sir…”

He shook his head and pushed away to re-dress himself. He had a meeting with the cooperative in a few minutes.

You hugged the sheets to your naked body and laid there, tensely watching his every movement. You felt bad for not being able to obey his order and you knew a punishment would soon be coming your way. From his silence, you could tell he was plotting something good.

“If you really want to cum so badly, then you’re coming with me.”

He ripped the sheets from your naked form and roughly grabbed your arm to haul you to your feet.

He dragged you out of the room and it didn’t take you long to figure out where he was going. He was taking you to the meeting. You were not at all prepared for the cooperative to see you naked. You tried to tug your arm free, and you dug your heels into the carpet, but he was unrelenting.

“Hey!” You yelled. “At least let me get dressed first.”

Growing tired of your non-compliance, his striding came to an abrupt stop and he turned on the spot, his face dangerously close to yours. His nostrils flared and you swore you could see fire flicker in his eyes.

“If you’re going to be such a needy whore, then I will treat you as such. Now are you going to behave or am I going to have to come up with a harsher punishment for you?”

Your eyes dropped to the floor from the weight of his stare. There was no avoiding it. You had fucked up and now you had to suffer the consequences.

You replied – deflated, “I’ll behave.”

“Good.” He practically snarled.

He dragged you to the boardroom and you followed behind limply. You had no idea what punishment he had in store for you.

The boardroom was empty when you arrived. Soon, the large desk would be filled with members of the cooperative. You wondered if that was your punishment, to stand around naked and on display for all to see. You hugged your arms to try and protect some of your dignity. This would be one incredibly humiliating meeting. But if it was Michael’s will, well, there was not much you could do about that.

Michael took a seat at the head of the table and placed his hands – clad in his red leather gloves – down on the wood. You could see out of the corner of your eye that he was drinking in your visage, looking you up and down and taking in your every feature as if it were the first time.

“Come sit here.” He tapped his thigh.

You walked over to his lap hesitantly. He sped up the process, grabbing your waist and guiding you down to straddle one of his legs.

“Ride my thigh.” He ordered. “When you cum, you will be free to leave.”

Your eyes went wide. Surely, he couldn’t expect that from you. You weren’t sure whether you’d even be able to cum with all those masked faces watching you.

Michael’s stare continued to bore into you.

He spoke, “I would start now if I was you.”

“You bastard.”

A small smirk crept onto his lips, which he quickly suppressed.

“Watch your language.”

You rolled your eyes and sighed. There was no getting out of this one. You placed your hands on Michael’s shoulder for support and began rutting yourself against his clothed thigh.

You heard footsteps approaching and you buried your face in Michael’s neck to avoid having to acknowledge the masked men who filed into the room. You must have looked such a sight, perched on Michael’s thigh like some horny pet.

No one said a single thing, they were all too scared and all too familiar with Michael’s antics. Michael spoke as normal, confidently conducting the meeting as if you weren’t naked and trying to get off on his thigh.

Your hips experimented with different paces and pressures, trying to figure out the best way to get yourself off. You switched between putting more pressure on the back of your vagina and then more pressure on the front so you could stimulate your clit. It didn’t take very long at all to find what worked for you and to get yourself lost in the pleasure.

All the while, Michael was completely unphased by what was happening. He spoke calmly and authoritatively to the cooperative as if you weren’t even there at all. It made you feel like even more of a needy slut that no one was reacting to your presence. You were just there, getting yourself off on the future supreme’s thigh.

If you were honest with yourself, you really enjoyed Michael’s punishments; he never let you get away with a single thing. You loved how much control he had over you. And you loved how powerful he was, you had no doubt that his plans would succeed, and he would become the next supreme.

The most powerful man in the world had chosen you to be his little plaything. That fact alone made you more wet than you’d like to admit.

And if you were really honest with yourself, you were a little turned on by the situation itself. You’d never engaged in voyeurism before but it had always been a secret fantasy of yours. To think that so many pairs of eyes were witnessing you debase yourself like this… Maybe you were more than a ‘little’ turned on.

Every rock of your hips was bringing you a jolt of pleasure. It felt so euphoric that you found yourself never wanting it to end. Everything was being stimulated with each buck of your hips and small shivers shot up your spine every time you brushed your clit against his trousers.

You had been biting back your moans thus far, not wanting to disturb the meeting or to embarrass yourself any further. But you were struggling more and more to contain them. You were growing wetter by the second, so much so that a wet patch was beginning to form on Michael’s trousers. Which was making it easier and even more pleasurable for you to glide yourself up and down his thigh. When you brushed your clit once more, you really couldn’t help the moan that left your lips.

Michael didn’t pause his speech for even a second. You wondered if anything you could do would break his resolve. You wanted to find out.

Your motions slowed down to a sensual pace, teasing yourself as you came down from the high you had been approaching. And your hands left his shoulder to roam your body. You played with your breasts, firmly massaging them in your hands and circling your nipples until they were hard and extremely sensitive. You didn’t hold back your groans anymore, letting them fall from your lips in dirty murmurs. Your hips eventually started to speed back up again of their own accord, enjoying this far too much.

You clenched your thighs around Michael’s so you could increase the pressure even more. And then you started to make circular motions with your hips, targeting your clit as your second orgasm of the day approached you.

Pleasure washed through your body with each rock of your hips and your breathing became laboured as you kept hitting those perfect spots over and over again. You tweaked your nipples roughly between your fingers and you came - a loud, dramatic cry.

Michael didn’t even pause at that. Of course he didn’t. He would always win. And you would always be his perfect slut.

[fernfiction]

Fire&Reign Michael x Corruption Kink - Part 2

(smut. filth.)

Click for Part 1

You lay in bed that night, restless and extremely horny. The events of earlier kept playing through your mind. With each replay, you felt your clit throbbing and your pussy getting wetter. Your hand moved down between your legs as you started caressing yourself, spreading your wetness over your folds and using it to rub your clit.

It was the way Michael had used his long fingers inside you, the way he had instructed you to suck your juices off him. The way he had then entered your tight asshole, being so good at prying you open and making you gasp and moan. You closed your eyes tightly as you worked yourself to a leg shaking orgasm. It was only when you were drifting off to sleep when his words boomed in your head. “And tomorrow, we’re gonna repeat all this again, but with my cock.” Your heart was racing as you remembered that you hadn’t touched Michael at all yet. You barely slept with the anticipation.

------------

You admired yourself in the mirror at work. You had made an extra effort with your makeup and even your lingerie. It was lunchtime again and your eyes scanned the room for Michael. He strolled in a while later. Sucking on a straw once again. “For fucks sake, he must do that on purpose” you thought. You tried to catch his attention for the next 30 minutes but he didn’t even look at you. You felt slightly defeated, but then again, it wasn’t home time just yet.

------------

You didn't even get a chance to close your laptop before you felt his presence behind you. You grinned and turned around to see Michael stood there with his arms folded. “Hi y/n.. Ready to pick up where we left off?” You had felt confident all day, but right now in front of him, you were weak again. “Hi Michael.. erm, yeah. Yes, sure. I.. I’m ready.” In contrast to yesterday, he decided to sit on the desk himself today. “Sit on your chair, right here” He moved the chair between his legs and you did as you were told. You were eye level with his crotch and you couldn’t help but stare at the shape that was protruding from his black pants. 

“Yes, it’s mesmerising isn’t it y/n?” He unzipped himself and lowered his pants to his knees. “What? You thought I’d let you have all the pleasure again? It’s my turn now. Consume me.”

You had never done this before. Your shaky hands met with his clothed cock and he sighed. “I said, consume me.” Unsure about what he meant, you just pulled his boxers down. FUCK. His dick hovered near your lips and you gave in. You lubricated him with your saliva and sucked his cock like you were famished. He felt hot in your mouth, his velvet skin touching the back of your throat. Michael sat back with his palms flat on the desk, watching you consume him, as he wanted. “Take that dress off now, y/n. My cock can’t wait any longer. I want to fill you up, I want you to feel me inside you.. You’re gonna love it”

He commanded, you obeyed. He didn’t even have to ask you to open your legs. They were already wide open and you were soaking wet. “I can almost feel your pussy throbbing y/n. Look at how desperate it is for me” He wasn’t lying. You had never felt an urge so strong. You wanted his cock to ruin you. You needed it to reach those sweet spots that you couldn't. He bent you over the desk and stood behind you. Gripping the flesh on your ass, he spread your cheeks and got a good look at that untouched cunt. “So perfect.. and ripe. It looks delicious” The feeling of him entering you had you losing your balance. His cock opened you up and with every thrust, you felt him grazing your G spot and almost came straightaway.  He pulled you up so your back was against his chest and whispered in your ear “You’ll have to keep your energy up y/n.. remember what I said? Your asshole is next..” You put your arms up and weaved your hands in his hair. He saw this as an opportunity to kiss your neck. His kiss turned harsh and before you knew it, he was sucking a bright bruise on to your skin. He’d marked you now. You were no longer sweet innocent y/n. 

------------

It was the next day and you were sore. Your pussy and asshole were sensitive and it pained you slightly when you sat down. Michael had fucked you senseless in both holes. It had felt like you reached heaven when he defiled you. How could something so filthy and depraved give you so much pleasure?! You scanned for Michael again but this time only saw Jeff and Mutt. “No Michael today boys?” “Michael?!! Dude got a transfer this morning. Some emergency in Syracuse. They told him yesterday afternoon.He’s going to be there permanently now.”

You felt every bone in your body shatter. Your heart reached the pit of your stomach and tears pricked your eyes. “How fucking dare he? He used me! He knew he was going and he didn’t even tell me?” You ran to the toilets to wipe your tears. Looking in the mirror, you composed yourself and touched up your makeup. It was then that your eyes fell onto the mark on your neck. Small, but shaped almost like a flower. You ran your fingers over it and you swore it gave you an electric feeling. You don’t know what came over you. You used your phone to open google and located the nearest place to you. You dialled the number. “Hi, yeah I’d like to book an appointment please? As soon as possible. I need to do this before this fades. Tomorrow morning? Yes, that’s perfect. No, I’ve never had a tattoo before. This will be my first time. Thankyou. I’ll see you then” You don’t know why you did it, but it felt like a force you couldn’t control. You couldn’t let Michaels mark fade. He was a part of you now. He had claimed you. You were his. You would start searching for flights to Syracuse as soon you got home. You were his and he needed to know it. This wasn't corruption. This was infatuation.

Taglist - @jimmason @angelicmichael @codyfernmorelikedaddyfern @whatcodysaid @infernwetrust

[heavymetalover]

Call Me Daddy (Michael Langdon x fem reader)

{i imagined scruffy sojourn michael w this one but i left the description kind of open so yall can imagine whichever teehee}

Summary: Michael is about to become your step dad and the two of you have an unusual relationship…

Warnings: DADDY KINK DUH, smut, dirty talk, fingering, vaginal sex, dom!michael, hickies, rough sex.

WC: 5.5k

A/N: ive done the unforgiven… omg.

this is a different format from my other stuff. i didnt see anyone doing this and yall know me and my daddy issues I HAD TO. PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE anon me, message me, whatever, if you want more parts cuz im down.

~~~~

 You had an average run-of-the-mill life with your mom. The two of you lived in a sizable suburban Los Angeles estate; your mom worked for most of her waking hours to keep you comfortable and you worked your ass off to stay in your top college. You had a few friends that would pop into your life when your mom left town, a few boyfriends here and there, even your mom dated around. Everything felt normal until Michael came into the picture.

Your mom has been dating Michael for a few months now, but every time he’s around he brings an eerie feeling along with him. Despite being nearly half her age, he has the soul of somebody from the eighteen hundreds. The way he composes himself, how he speaks with the utmost confidence and how his stares linger too long; his glacial blue eyes always watch you like he can see right through your clothes. 

You’ve been skeptical of him since the day you met him. When you shook his hand and accidentally removed one of his large rings, he nonchalantly told you to keep it. You decided to sell the huge diamond-encrusted Cartier ring and use the twenty thousand dollars to help pay for college.

Since then you’ve avoided the two of them in protest of their relationship. You knew it was juvenile to evade them, but the man turned you on more than you’d like to admit. His soft-waved blonde hair, fluffy lips, jawline for days, prominent cheekbones, and how can you forget the eyes… Everything about him looked planned, like he was designed to be flawless.

On a mundane weekend morning, your mom calls you from downstairs. “Y/n!” her voice echoes through the halls.

You stop reading your favourite book and take out an earbud. “Yeah?!” you yell back, looking up from the pages for a moment and waiting for her to say something else, but the house is silent. You pretend to ignore her call and go back to the story.

“Y/n!” your mom yells again.

You sigh and drop your book, rolling off of your bed and skipping down the stairs to see what fresh hell awaits. As you approach your mom, who’s opening her mouth to call you again, you smell something unusual. Something you haven’t smelt since your dad left. Cologne.

“Honey, he’s here,” your mom whispers to you, putting a hand on your shoulder. You try turning away to run back to your room, but your mom stops you. “Can you be nice for once, please?” she begs, squeezing your shoulder.

“Whatever, let’s get this over with,” you groan and shimmy her hand off of your shoulder.  

Michael works at the dining table, setting up three plates and utensils. You’re planted to the ground in awe, you’ve never had to eat dinner with the two of them before. It crosses your mind that they must be confronting you about bypassing them these past few months, your fight or flight response is already kicking in.

Michael looks up at you, finally acknowledging you and capturing you in his ocean blue eyes with a nanosecond of contact. Your mom moves in between the two of you and takes some food out of a paper bag. “Michael and I wanted all of us to eat dinner together,” she skips to stand beside him. You widen your eyes at her and cross your arms in objection. She widens her eyes back, you can practically hear her nagging you to be polite.

Michael puts his arm around your mom. “Your mother and I thought it best for us to… start acting like a family,” he says.

Your eyebrows shoot up and you can’t hold back your smile. “A family?” you laugh. You purse your lips and start walking backwards, aching to escape Michael’s spell. “Mmm, I think I’ll pass,” you turn around to start walking away.

“Y/n,” your mom snaps. You stop in the middle of a step and twist back towards them, taking small, reluctant steps to approach their little function. “We have something to tell you,” she says and immediately after, vaults her hand out to you.

You take it hesitantly and look at her, still trying to figure them out and failing. “What?” you ask.

“No, honey, look at it,” she rolls her eyes, “look at my hand.”

You gawk at her hand, her third finger is dressed in a huge diamond ring. It looks big enough to pay off your whole house. You unintentionally let out a dramatic gasp and drop her hand, she continues to hold it up for you. “It’s the bloodiest diamond he could find in the LA area,” she explains, “We’re in love.” She smiles and places her hand on Michael’s chest, looking up at him with hearts in her eyes. He gifts a small kiss on her lips.

You scoff and shake your head. Any tension that you felt from Michael has dissolved. He’s been dating your mom for five months, five fucking months. Who does he think he is? Are they both nuts? “You’re joking, right?” you ask, completely stunned by how brash the whole situation is. “Are you guys pranking me?”

Michael grins at you, it makes you melt and you hate yourself for it. “Call me daddy,” he sneers.

----

It’s a quaint Wednesday evening when you decide to take a break from studying and grab a snack. You’re scrolling through Tumblr when you walk out of your room and smash your face against a sturdy chest. “Jesus!” you gasp, looking up at Michael standing in front of your door; one of his hands is in a fist, ready to knock on your door, while the other is behind his back. “You scared the shit out of me!” You playfully push his chest away from you, trying to shake off the sudden rush of adrenaline.

He drops his fist as he stumbles back slightly. It’s the first time you’ve talked to him since they announced their engagement. Michael moved in about a month ago and it’s been hard to ignore him since he sits, day in day out, typing away on his laptop in your living room.

“Sorry,” he apologizes. “But I have to admit it’s nice to hear your voice again.”

You lean against your doorframe, trying to act casual as if he hadn’t just knocked the wind out of you completely. “Did my mom come home from work or something? She send you here?” you ask, declining his attempts to meet your eyes, instead you stare at his lapel.

“No, I got you something,” he explains, wiggling the surprise behind his back.

“Another Cartier ring?” you joke. “Oh, or is it a new girlfriend? Because that would be even better.” His eyes find the ceiling in annoyance and it feels rewarding, you were starting to think he couldn’t be cracked. “Did you get me an apartment, so I don’t have to live with another failed marriage?”

“No,” he snaps back, starting to sound impatient with your infantile attitude. You straighten up at his belligerent tone. He slides into your room, keeping the gift hidden behind his back. “It’s thoughtful, something I know you’d like, but… if you’re hellbent on loathing my existence, why should I be so kind?” he asks. He somehow manages to speak reserved, yet impossibly intimidating. Every word that leaves his lips demands to be heard, it sends chills down your spine. “Right?” he prompts.

You take in a breath. “Right,” you force yourself to agree, mostly because you’re curious to see what the present is. Another part of you is getting bored of acting like a hermit and going days without social interaction. “Obviously it feels weird; I barely know you and you’re becoming my dad and you moved in, everything just seems so fast,” you explain yourself. You saunter back into your room to meet him. “I’ve been a bitch. I’m sorry, Michael. Seriously.”

He takes a step closer to you, you’re only inches apart. You can feel the heat radiating from his body and fight the urge to wrap your arms around him. “We’ll work on ‘Michael’ later,” he replies. You’re about to question what he means by that when he takes the present out from behind his back. He holds a black bag in between the two of you and you immediately recognize the store. “I heard you on the phone with your friend about something red, lacey, with a bow. I think I found it…”

You take the Victoria’s Secret bag from him without saying a word. You have no words to say. You don’t know if you should thank him or refuse the gift or slap him for listening to your personal conversations. Your mind races wondering if you’d gossiped about his good looks on the phone with your friend.

You silently pry open the bag and paw through the lingerie, mountains of cute panties and bras, digging through things you were never able to afford but always wanted. And, of course, Michael bought the red, lacey one piece you were talking about with your friend. There’s a stillness in the room as you look through the bag. “You bought all of this for me?”

“Yeah, I can’t see how your mom would fit into any of those.”

All of the pieces are just your size, it’s the perfect gift… just not from your stepdad. “How did you even know my size?” you stop looking at the bag and make the mistake of falling into his eyes.

“I went through your clothes,” he carelessly shrugs.

You drop the present by your side. “You went through my clothes, like, my lingerie?”

He slowly nods his head, acting as if it isn’t strange for him to invade your privacy how he did. You huff and he begins looking agitated with you again. “Would you like if I returned all this stuff? I thought you’d like it.”

“I do,” you mutter and kick the bag away from him, you’re not jeopardizing this gift with your uncontrollable sass.

“Good,” he spits back.

“Just… don’t think you can just buy yourself into the family,” you mock. You catch yourself subconsciously crossing your arms over your chest to give yourself a breast lift, but you don’t stop.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he smirks. He looks down at your cleavage and it feels like all the air is sucked out of the room. “You have quite the collection of lingerie you keep hidden at the bottom of your drawers,” he observes, “like a dirty guilty pleasure.” You peer up at him, again trying to read him, and again failing. He uses one of his fingers to hook onto the thin fabric of your shirt, your tits are practically pouring out and begging to be the center of attention. He tugs at the fabric, looking under your shirt and inspecting your boobs suffocated in one of your intimate Victoria’s Secret pickups. “Kitten’s all dressed up?” he whispers, his fingertips graze the embroidered details.

You bite your lip, anticipating the second he’ll rip the bra off your chest. “It’s all for you,” you tease, pushing your tits together even more, “I’m always dressed up for you, Michael.”

He breathes in, groaning under his breath. “I thought I told you,” his voice is low and intimidating, “call me daddy.”

You’re drinking in a breath of his cologne, shifting onto the tips of your toes to give his soft lips a rugged kiss, when the sound of keys rattling downstairs takes you out of it. Michael still stares at you, his fingers continue to linger over your clothed tits. “Michael!” your mom calls from downstairs.

You look up at him with fear in your puppy dog eyes and Michael grins. He shoots you one last, knowing, glance before leaving your room. He leaves you without saying two words. “Yeah, babe,” he answers your mom, closing your bedroom door behind him.

What the fuck just happened?

----

Holding back your gags, you grasp your friend’s hair as she projectile vomits peach schnapps into an expensive toilet bowl. Her phone rings in her pocket and you huff, digging through the pockets of the leather jacket you lent her and pulling out a vibrating iPhone. You pick up the phone with an ill “hello”, answering too late and looking down at the screen. She must’ve ordered an Uber a while ago, there’s a ton of notifications that the driver’s outside. “Oh shit,” you mutter under your breath. “Your ride is here!” you yell at her, trying to pull her onto her feet.

“What?!” she yells into the toilet bowl.

You roll your eyes and lean down beside her ear, “I said, your ride is here!” you yell over the thumping music.

Your friend stumbles around, trying to stand up in her six-inch heels. You pull her onto you and her head rests on your shoulder, she goes limp against you. “Stop, come on!” you shout over the music. “You have to g-”

You’re cut off by your friend puking onto an expensive mini dress you bought for tonight’s party. This shindig was supposed to be a fun little escape from your school life, your home life, Michael, all your stress. You expected to make new friends, meet hot guys, but instead you came an hour late and have been nursing your friend the whole night. You’re seriously going to kick her ass tomorrow.

“Sorry,” she mumbles, her breath reeking of throw up.

You toss her arm over your shoulder and start walking her out of the bathroom. “I’m going to kill you tomorrow, you know that?” you say in her ear and she lets out a small, apologetic whimper.

A cute guy who was talking you up earlier approaches the two of you. He holds two red cups in his hands and shrugs when he sees you. “What the fuck, y/n? You disappeared on me!” he talks to you over the bass-y music. “I got our drinks!” he shakes the cups in his hands and hands one over to you, as if completely ignoring your drunken friend hanging off of your side.

Your friend staggers, nearly bringing you down with her. The cute guy helps you pick her back up and you sigh, annoyed at how much of a disaster your night has turned into. He knits his eyebrows at your sour attitude, then finding the vomit on your dress, he looks back up at you. You see his doe eyes grow apologetic when he mouths a weak “sorry” to you, stepping out of your way. You shake your head as if telling him it’s fine; you just wish you had more time to get to know him.

You continue dragging your friend along your side and hear someone call out your name from behind you. You whip your head around; your hair irritatingly sticks to your lip-gloss. “Hope to see you again!” he calls after you. You nod in his direction and resume walking your friend, who is nearly passed out on your shoulder, to the front door. When you walk out of the house, you’re assaulted with the smell of salt water. Despite this night turning into one of the most frustrating nights of your life, at least you got to visit a Malibu beach house.

A big, black SUV is parked outside of the house and you rush her to the door. Opening the backseat and stuffing her inside the seats in the back. “The app says where you’re taking her, right?” you ask the Uber driver, your voice sounds muted from being struck by loud music all night.

He nods and reads out her address. “Y/n,” your friend slurs, gripping onto your arm with all her strength, “you’re a really nice… you’re a… you’re a really good friend, you know that? Like, seriously,” she pauses to hiccup, “thank you for taking care of me tonight.” Her words are so slurred that it’s nearly impossible to make out her compliment, but you just nod in hopes it’ll get her to let go. She drops your arm and hands you your pricey leather jacket, bunched up in a ball, before shutting the van door.

You throw on your jacket, protecting yourself from the ocean’s breeze, and watch the van drive away when you notice a familiar car parked across the street. The SUV blocked a four-seater Maserati parked on the other side of the road. Michael’s sedentary in the driver’s seat with a cigarette hanging from his lips. You balance yourself on your ridiculously tall heels and stomp over to his car. He doesn’t even see you coming, he’s leaned back in the driver’s seat reading a book.

You crouch down and knock on the glass of his window. His eyes meet yours for a second and he slowly rolls down the window. A mob of cigarette smoke escapes the car and he chucks the stick onto the pavement. You’re both quiet for a few moments, the crashing ocean waves fills up the silence.  “How did you know I was here?” you ask.

He finally puts down his book and looks at you. “Just trying to be a good dad,” he responds.

“Ugh, ew,” you groan. “You’re my step dad.”

He adjusts his seat to start driving, his eyes looking you up and down as he does. “Looks like your night went a little… rough,” he jokes and nods towards the puke on your dress. “You need a ride?”

You look back at the party. As much as you wanted to live up the night, you’re already in too much of a bad mood to go back in there. It doesn’t help that your new dress is covered in puke, too. You turn back around to Michael, he awaits your answer with a cocked brow. “You can’t tell mom,” you sigh, walking around the car to get into the passenger’s seat. The luxury car’s butterfly doors obnoxiously open up for your entry. “Not a word,” you assure him as you slide into the leather seat.

He starts up the car and one of his Led Zeppelin albums begins to play. “I picked you up at the library,” he quips.

He starts driving along the empty coast and you decide to skip the seatbelt, you don’t want to dirty his car with your friend’s retch. His eyes glance over to your seat for a moment, he notices you second guessing the seatbelt and puts a hand on your thigh. You look up at him and intuitively try to tempt him, biting your bottom lip and batting your lashes. “I’ll protect you if we crash,” he whispers, his fingers lightly caress your thighs.

You put your hand on his and slide him further up your leg. He keeps one hand on the wheel, eyes on the road, but when his eyes do meet yours, it makes all the nerves in your core feel like a wave pool. Your dress is short enough for him to reach your panties without any hassle. Your hand is on his when his fingers begin to rub your pussy, still dressed in a pair of panties he bought you. “Baby’s already wet for daddy,” he says under his breath, kneading your clit in small circles.

You feel your stomach erupt with butterflies, you’ve never felt a nervousness so intense before. A rush of thoughts suddenly violates your mind, you try to shut them up but they keep coming. This is wrong. You shouldn’t be doing this. You’re disgusting for enjoying this. His fingers have been in your mom before.

You dig your nails into his skin and pull his hand away from you; bending over in your seat and clutching onto your stomach. You only had one drink tonight, you shouldn’t be feeling this sick.

“I-I’m sorry,” he stutters, “are you okay?”

“I think I need air,” you grumble through the sudden sickness. “Can you pull over?”

Michael only takes a minute to find an empty parking lot on the beach and pull into it. You get out of the car without saying a word to him and take off your heels, throwing them into the backseat of his car. You’re already starting to feel your anxiety subside as you shuffle through the cool sand and pace towards the erratic waves crashing on shore. This is one of the reasons you loved LA, the tons of tiny, empty beaches. The ocean at night, and how it constantly smelt like salt water, how it relaxed you.

The breeze blew through your hair, a part of you felt like running into the crashing waves, but a voice took you out of it. “Y/n!” Michael called behind you, over the sound of the whistling wind. He trudges in the sand to get to you; you faintly snicker at his dedication. “Are you okay?” he asks once he’s closer to you.

When you see him, face glowing in the moon light, golden locks blowing in the ocean breeze, face twisted with concern, it all settles. Everything feels like it’s in the right place. Your stomach, although still turning with butterflies, no longer feels sick.

There’s a pause between the two of you; both of you deciding to admire each other instead of the beautiful ocean view beside you. Then, it feels like everything clicks. Like the two of you mentally communicate your longing for each other, your desire. Both shutting your eyes and diving in for a kiss at the same time.

His lips smash against yours, sucking your face, and his tongue quickly invades your mouth. He kisses you like he’s craved your lips for years, passionately cleaning up your mouth with his eager tongue.

Michael works your jacket off of your shoulders and you shimmy it to the ground. He unzips your dress, the zip running along your naked back sends a shiver crawling down your spine. He abandons your lips for a moment to pull down your dress, exposing your bare chest and expensive panties. You’re too lost in lust to even realize you’re half naked on a public beach.

You’re both panting and releasing all of the built-up sexual tension. He stands back up and kisses you again, his hands cup your ass and he gives an echoed smack; his fingers creep down your legs. He grabs onto the back of your thighs and hoists you up, you lightly yelp into his mouth and wrap your legs around him. His large hands hold you up and he leans down, resting you onto the jacket you’ve thrown onto the sand.

Once you’re laid down, he begins rubbing your pussy again. His cold rings adding a different sense of pleasure as he rubs you into entropy. He slides your feeble panties to the side and spits down on your cunt, shoving his finger inside you. You moan at the sudden intrusion, taking in a breath of the salt-scented air. “That’s it, baby girl,” he whispers, adding in another finger, “I want to hear you moan for daddy.”

You take in a breath and whimper as he curves his fingers inside of you, slowly pulsing against your g-spot. He touches you as if he already knows which parts make you crumble. “Ooh yeah, daddy,” you cry and grind on his fingers, pushing him deeper inside you, “right there.”

“You’re my dirty little slut, huh?” he asks, gliding in another finger. Your eyes roll back in pleasure. “Little girl likes to get fucked by her daddy?” He adds another finger, completely stretching you out. Your breath gets caught in your throat and you can’t reply. “I asked you a question.”

You meet his cold eyes for a second, before you throw your head back in pleasure. “Yes!” you breathe out, feeling the heat rise in your body. Your sensitive cunt throbs under his gluttonous fingers, persistently fucking you and begging for more. “Yes, oh, keep fucking me just like that, daddy!”

His fingers find a rhythm inside of you, constantly bringing you to the brink of climax and slowing down. “Such a dirty little girl,” he teases and spits on your soaking cunt. He pulls out his fingers and holds them to your lips. You grab his hand and suck on his long fingers, tasting the cool metal rings mixed with the sweet taste of your pussy.

You sit up and lock your lips with his again. Both, you and Michael, unbutton his shirt; you want to feel his flesh against yours as soon as possible. When you get to the bottom, you slide your hands up his body and square the shirt off of his shoulders. His perfect, porcelain skin shines in the moonlight. You want to appreciate it for a moment, but he’s already unbuckling his belt.

He’s propped on his knees, unzipping his black pants and bringing them down to pull his erection out of his briefs. It springs out when you start grabbing for it, he moves back and clicks his tongue. “My greedy little girl,” he mocks, “you don’t get a taste until daddy says you do.”

He pushes you down with one of his hands. His touch is so delicate, yet so commanding. Everything he does is done with conviction and a power that only you could dream of, he is inherently dominant over you. He strokes his long, girthy length over you, you’re practically drooling at the sight. He spits on himself and rubs it into the head. “Spit on it,” he orders.

You sit up and weakly spit on the tip of his cock; it’s too late when you notice your mouth is dry from nervousness. He shakes his head. “You’re so pathetic, you can’t even spit on me right,” he sneers, divorced from the nasty words leaving his lips. He presses his dick against your folds and your fingers curl into your jacket, awaiting the moment he plunges into you. “Say the word, baby girl, say you want me,” he’s lingering at your entrance.

“Please,” you whine, your pussy is beating against his hard cock, “please dad.”

He pushes his head inside you and you grab his arms for support, digging your nails into his skin. He’s so thick, you’ve never felt something so large obtruding your tight cunt. He moves in slowly, reading your stunned facial expressions to see if he should continue stuffing himself inside of you. You let out tiny weeps as he digs deeper into your hole, but you can’t manage much more.

Michael thrusts himself into you until he’s balls deep, even he can’t help but groan. “My little girl is so fucking tight,” he grunts under his breath. He starts to hammer himself into you, going so deep that you feel like pushing him back, but you can’t bring yourself to do it. His cock is so thick that it hits every nerve you could imagine; it’s hard to gather a single word.

He lets out a small chuckle at your reticence. “My innocent baby’s never felt a real cock before, huh?” he taunts, still pounding his length into you. You open your mouth to speak, but settle on shaking your head. One distinct tear runs down the side of your face while stifled cries pass your trembling lips with each time his balls smack into your ass. “You’re taking me like a good fucking girl,” he admires, “my good little slut.”

He lifts up your leg and rests your foot on his shoulder. You’re twisted onto your side, trying to look over your shoulder to see how vigorously he pounds into your cunt. Michael’s new positioning hits exactly in your g-spot, you feel your leg shaking under his grip. “H-holy shit,” your voice trembles, you let out a built-up breath. “Keep going, daddy! Right there, right there, I’m so close,” you’re begging, voice is flooded with desperation. You don’t care how childish you sound, you want nothing more than to come all over Michael’s big dick. “Don’t move, please, please,” you grab onto his arm again.

Tears overflow your eyes when you look into his. Just seeing his determined light blue eyes peering back at you makes you unravel even more. He has no remorse for how weak he’s making you, how vulnerable you’ve become, his unmistakable dominion turns you on.

He listens to your wails, finally granting you the satisfaction you’ve been begging for and plows into your g-spot. Your grip on him gets tighter as he thrusts harder, you’re almost certain he’s going to leave some swelling deep inside your cunt. “Your dick is so, fucking, good,” you breathe in between thrusts.

Michael doesn’t give up, keeping up the same pace and fucking you exactly how you want him to. You’re about to praise his long cock some more when you’re thrown into climax. You try looking back up at him, but you can’t say a word; your mouth hangs wide open with nothing but small chokes croaking out. He can see how dazed he’s made you and shoves your face into the ground, pushing your nose against the leather of your jacket. “You’re going to take daddy’s cock like a good little girl,” he seethes, suffocating your head into your jacket. “Don’t come,” he demands.

He continues punching your g-spot with his huge cock, you feel your pussy spasming under his rough thrusts. He holds both of your arms back, shifting you into doggy-style. His balls slap against your sore clit and you feel yourself starting to ejaculate. “Fuck!” you scream into the breeze of the empty beach. Your cunt twitches and gushes its balmy juices all over Michael’s hard cock.

He slows down his pace and pulls your arms up towards him, you feel his heaving chest against your back. “What did I just fucking say?” he fumes, tugging your arms even closer to him. “Answer me.”

“You told me not to come,” you answer in a syrupy, naïve voice.

He grabs both of your tits to push you flush against him, maintaining his rough thrusts into your cunt. “That’s right,” he whispers in your ear, “baby didn’t fucking listen.” He smacks your tits with both of his hands, striking you hard. You jump at how ruthless he hits you, it makes your stomach flutter again. His full lips lug along your neck. “Remember who you belong to,” he speaks into your neck, sending an iciness throughout your entire body.

Michael digs his teeth into your skin, sucking up your flesh while he continues massaging your breasts, pinching at the hard peaks your nipples have formed. He sucks so hard it stings, you wonder how that would feel on your pussy. His love bite begins to hurt and you shift your head away from him, he snickers. “Who do you belong to?” he whispers, lips chafing the shell of your ear.

He pinches your nipples even harder and you sob in pleasure. “Mmm, you,” you respond, looking over your shoulder to give his lips a frail kiss. “I belong to you, daddy.”

He takes in a deep breath as if shaking off your spell and regaining his confidence. He pushes you onto the ground again and goes back to fucking you like a ragdoll. “You better remember that,” he breathes, mercilessly pummeling himself into you again.

He holds both of your arms back once more, driving himself into you so hard that you’re concerned about cervix bruising. His pace slows down a bit and you look back at him, his mouth drapes open and he stares down at the back of your head. He pushes you away as he orgasms, savagely shoving your face back into the ground, as you feel his warm seed spilling inside your wet cunt. Michael groans from deep within his chest, letting out a long sigh when he’s done. “Oh, fuck,” he moans, “fuck, you sexy bitch.”

You let out a little giggle at this and he joins. He hauls himself out of you and you feel all of your muscles relax. You shift onto your back, looking up at Michael in disbelief. You’re too caught up in euphoria to comprehend what just happened. All you can think of in this moment is how fucking good he was. Even Michael has a dumbfounded look on his face.

He shakes his head and liberates a nervous laugh, “We’re so fucked up.”

You can say that again.

[ahsbitch]

Yes, Mr. Langdon---Fire & Reign!Michael Langdon x Reader

Word Count: 3228

Summary: Reader is F&R!Michael’s assistant, who is always quick to do whatever he asks. Michael wants to see how far she’ll go to do just that. 

Warnings: NSFW, lots of swearing, masturbation, Reader gets a facial, bootlicking, degradation, humiliation ish?, some Mean!Michael, but also kinda Soft!Michael at the end bc I’m soft and lonely at heart, that’s all I can think of idk

A/N: Hi I’ve literally never written any AHS stuff before so I apologize if this sucks but I really hope it doesn’t  

Being the personal assistant to the Antichrist was definitely not the easiest job in the world.

But when held in comparison to your time in restaurant service, it definitely wasn’t the hardest either. 

At least here, you rarely had to deal with obstinate customers. Most people were too frightened of your boss, Mr. Langdon, to yell or be rude in his presence, which you were constantly in, and on the occasion that they were rude or stubborn anyway, he had a tendency to give a little wave of his hand, incinerating them before your very eyes. 

No, the rudest and most needy person you typically had to deal with was Mr. Langdon himself. 

The rude came and went in waves. He could be cruel, demeaning, downright evil at times. He acted, in short, much like one might expect the Antichrist to. But sometimes, he could be charming, gentle, occasionally even sweet. 

The neediness came and went in waves too, although it was more often very subtly present than anything else. Usually he was commanding, powerful, clearly in charge. But sometimes, although still commanding, he could be almost childlike in his confusion and frustration. 

He was kind of an asshole, but he wasn’t the worst boss in the world. There was something about him that was compelling, that made you feel a great desire to please him. He was always specific about what he wanted, and you always complied, no matter how out of the box, how insulting, how simple or extreme, how kind or how demeaning. You said yes to everything he asked you. 

And he had begun to take great notice of it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Fucking, fuck, dammit to hell, this fucking, son of a bitch!” 

You sat at your desk just outside of Michael Langdon’s office, transcribing a giant tome of text as instructed by the Cooperative, and listening to your boss curse loudly at inanimate objects. 

You should probably get up, check on him, but you decided that until he reached the point of breaking things-

“Fuck!” He shouted, and then there was a bang and a very, very loud crash. 

Yeah, until he started doing stuff like that. 

You rose with a shake of your head, knocking sharply on his door three times. 

“Come in,” Michael sighed, and as you walked in you took note of the shattered computer against the opposite wall of his desk, turning back to look at your boss with his head laying against said desk, hands gripping at his golden curls.

Dammit, he was frustrated. 

Frustrated Michael could be particularly difficult to deal with. 

You stood before him, hands folded neatly in front of you, smiling pleasantly even though he wasn’t looking at you yet, “You sounded like you might be in need of assistance, Mr. Langdon. Would you mind fixing your computer?” 

He grunted quietly, giving a little swirl of his hand, although he didn’t lift his head, and you stepped out of the way as the technology flew back into place, drifting into its original position. 

“Very good. Now, if you don’t mind, could you tell me what’s wrong?”

“I’m not a child, Y/N,” Michael growled, and you bit your tongue gently to resist the urge to laugh. 

Moving to the side of the desk, you smiled to yourself at his little temper tantrum, “Of course not, Mr. Langdon. I am merely at your service.” 

“Of course you are,” Sitting up finally, he turned to you, and you were amused to see the pout that sat on his lips, the intimidating man looking suddenly very young, more his own age, “The mouse won’t work.” 

“May I?” You didn’t wait for him to agree, already wiggling the mouse once and then moving to the wires of the computer, fiddling with them quickly before sliding the mouse back to Michael, “That should do it.” 

“What was wrong with it?” He glanced up at you, voice gruff, although you could hear a hint of curiosity.

You shifted where you stood, trying to mask your discomfort, “Just, uh, just technology stuff.”

“Y/N,” Turning in his chair, Michael pinned you in place with his gaze, and you were unsure whether this was metaphorical pinning or not, with how frozen you felt, “Tell me what was wrong with it.”

“Yes, Mr. Langdon,” Trying to keep your smile in place rather than let a grimace take you over, you grit your teeth in preparation for him to do something violent, “The mouse wasn’t plugged in all the way. It’s a fairly common issue. Happens all the time.”

You tensed, but to your surprise Michael didn’t yell or break something or curse, like he usually did when he felt a sense of ineptitude. Instead, he laughed, and normally that would’ve scared you even more, but it was such a warm and gentle laugh that you felt yourself relaxing ever so slightly as he spoke, “Of course it was. Tell me, Y/N, is there anything wrong with you?”

Shrugging, you let yourself perch on the edge of his desk with a giggle, “Plenty of things, believe me.”

“Tell me some?” 

“Yes, Mr. Langdon,” Pausing, you mused over your words, testing each on the tip of your tongue before you said it, “Let’s see. My left foot is bigger than my right. I think jealousy is a very ugly emotion, and I hate it, but I have a lot of insecurities, and often find myself jealous of people around me in spite of my best efforts. Um, I read cheesy romance novels in my free time even though the writing usually makes me cringe. When people ask me what type of lipstick I use I always lie because I don’t want anyone else to have lips that look as good as mine. Oh, and even though I exclusively call you Mr. Langdon out loud, I will confess that in my head I usually refer to you as Michael. It’s faster, y’know.”

Chuckling softly once more, Michael nodded, “Those don’t sound too bad, as far as problems go. You’re lucky.”

“I prefer to think of myself as adaptable.”

“Fair enough,” He grinned, but something dangerous glittered behind his eyes, “You can go now, Y/N.” 

“Yes, Mr. Langdon,” You flashed him a small smile before hurrying out of the room.

Michael watched you leave, musing over your words. 

How far, he wondered, how far could he go with his wishes, before you gave in, before you said no. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Why the hell wouldn’t you say no to anything?

It was beginning to drive Michael crazy, watching the way that you gave in to whatever he asked, even when he was being absurd. 

You spent a full day doing all your work in nothing but your underclothes, simply because he asked. 

You gave sat on his lap through a whole meeting with other members of the Cooperative, your superiors, simply because he asked. 

You let him order you to do tiny things. Hand him pens that were two inches away from his fingertips. Kiss the floor where his chair had been sitting. Adjust the brightness of his computer screen for him only to come back and adjust it to its original brightness approximately two minutes later. Simply because he asked. 

What wouldn’t you say yes to? 

He was musing over this as he waited for you to return from a coffee run.

There you were, carrying two paper cups, a pleasant smile on your face. 

Always that same damn smile.

“I have your hot chocolate, Mr. Langdon,” You set the cup in front of him on the desk, “Thank you again for allowing me to get myself a drink.”

Michael glanced up at you, frowning, “Y/N, I always let you get yourself a drink.” 

Shrugging, you raised the cup to your lips and took a sip, “I know you do, Mr. Langdon. But it feels right to thank you. You’re a good boss.” 

Maybe not so much, He thought to himself as he twitched his hand, watching you drop the cup almost in slow motion, watching as the lid came off and your drink spilled just a bit onto his lap, just a bit onto his legs, cursing as the rest came splashing down onto his shoes. 

“Oh shit, I’m so sorry!” You gasped, staring at your now empty hands in shock.

Sneering at you, Michael snapped twice, “Don’t just stand there, Y/N. Clean up your mess.” 

“Right, I’m sorry, Mr. Langdon, let me go get-”

“No,” He grabbed your wrist, not allowing you to move away, and you turned back to him in confusion as he continued to tug you closer, “Get onto your knees, open your mouth, and clean up your mess.” 

Holy fuck.

Ignoring the way your face burned, you averted your eyes, whispering, “Yes, Mr. Langdon,” As you dropped to your knees.

Where exactly were you meant to go with this? 

Michael raised his foot, nudging your chin with it until you looked up and met his gaze, his eyes holding something dark and urgently, compellingly dangerous, “Well? Get to work, Y/N.”  

“Yes, Mr. Langdon.”

Before you could even think any further, he had touched the toe of his boot to your mouth, pushing gently against your bottom lip until you opened for him. 

He was a remarkably clean person, and beyond the taste of your coffee even the shoes themselves didn’t taste particularly bad. 

Probably because they cost more than your apartment. 

You moved slowly at first, but as Michael brought his hands down to wind tightly through your hair, you sped up. You lapped at the droplets of coffee, over the grooves of his laces and up to the sharp, pointed toe of the boot, and when you were done with one you switched to the other. He gripped your hair tightly, guiding your head, forcing you to bob up and down as you cleaned his shoe, and you wondered vacantly to yourself if he did the same thing while he was getting a blowjob. 

Probably. 

“Good girl,” He praised as you worked, his voice softer than you expected, and even Michael seemed surprised as he cleared his throat, his tone becoming darker, “You’re not bad at this. Do you do this often?”

Pausing your ministrations briefly, you shook you head, “No, Mr. Langdon.”

You were back at it immediately, feeling him tug at your head.

Michael was trying hard to sound intimidating, and of course he did, he always did, but there was something shockingly gentle behind his voice even as he growled, “Good. I should be your first priority. Tell me, do you enjoy this?” 

You had finished against his shoes, pulling away, and he released your head as he examined them, smirking at your heavy breathing, at the way you panted your answer, “Would you, uh, do you want me to enjoy this, Mr. Langdon?”

Narrowing his eyes, a frown etched across his face, “What? I mean, no. No, I don’t want you to.”

“Then I don’t,” You shrugged, rocking backwards.

Fuck, you were going to kill him. 

“What if I wanted you to?” 

“Then I would.”

Clearing his throat again, Michael stared at you for a moment before patting his thigh, “There’s coffee on my pants, as well. You’ll need to take care of that, too.”

“Yes, Mr. Langdon.” 

He didn’t touch you this time, instead bringing his hands up, reclining further back in his chair and resting his head against his palms as he watched you. 

Starting at the cuff, you stroked your tongue up his pant leg, pressing absentminded kisses occasionally as you went. By the time you’d reached the tops of his thighs, Michael was straining forward ever so slightly, dragging the chair closer to you with one ankle hooked around his desk, and then meeting up with his other ankle to lock behind your back. 

You took the hint, mouthing along the outline of his cock.

Holy shit, he was huge, and you hadn’t even seen it unconstrained. 

He hissed, quietly, his hips bucking forward as you licked your way up to his zipper, clamping your teeth onto it and tugging down without much thought. 

“Stop,” He said firmly, almost laughing as you scrambled back, “Don’t be greedy.” 

“Sorry, Mr. Langdon,” You dropped your gaze and licked your lips, tasting the remains of your coffee. 

“Is this...” Trailing off in thought, Michael guided your face upwards once more, forcing you to make eye contact with him, “Is this embarrassing for you, Y/N?”

“Do you want it to be embarrassing for me?” 

“Stop that,” He snapped, his grip on your chin tightening, “Stop bullshitting me. Give me a real answer. Truthfully, is this embarrassing for you?”

Tapping your fingers along your thighs, musing over your answer a moment, “Truthfully? Of course it is. A lot of the things you have me do, especially lately, I find humiliating.”

There it was. Now would you finally give in, finally reject a request? 

He didn’t say anything, just reached into his boxers and pulled out his cock. 

Neither of you spoke, staring at each other instead, and hesitantly you reached for it, flinching as Michael slapped your hand away just as you brushed your fingers against him.

“I told you not to be greedy.”

“Sorry, Mr. Langdon.”

After a moment more, Michael nodded, wrapping his own fist around his cock and beginning to pump it. You watched in fascination as moved, at the way his long fingers wrapped around his thick, long, perfect cock. 

“Y/N,” Snapping you out of your daze, Michael paused to spit into his hand, moving rubbing along the head of his dick before returning to his former position, “I want to jerk off onto your face. I want you to sit there, and watch me, and I want to finish on your face, and when I’m done, I want you to thank me, and I want you to leave it there. Leave it for the rest of the day, so everyone can see how desperate you are to please me.”

Surely, surely you would say no to this. 

“Yes, Mr. Langdon.” 

A growl made its way out of his throat before he could stop it, and he sped up his pace as he watched you fold your hands in your lap, adjusting your knees a little, staring up at him through your fluttering lashes. 

Snarling, Michael grunted, “You’re pathetic, do you know that?”

Did he want you to answer? 

“Keep your pretty little whore mouth shut, got it?” He spoke like he could read your mind, and you decided he probably could as you clamped your teeth shut, nodding quickly as he continued, “Fuck. You’d do anything I asked you to, huh? If I told you to kill someone, you’d do it without question, wouldn’t you? Hell, you’d kill yourself without question, if I asked you to. I think you like feeling humiliated. I think that your pussy gets wetter and wetter every time I tell you what to do. I- shit- I’m your fucking boss, and you’re on your knees for me before I can even finish telling you that’s where you need to be. It’s absurd. You probably want me to fuck you right now. You’re probably wishing I would let you open your mouth so you can swallow me down, you’re so desperate to get a taste of me.”

He was getting closer to finishing, you could tell, his rhythm getting faster and faster, his words becoming more sharply articulated. 

Michael kept going, almost like he was talking himself into cumming, “You can’t wait for me to finish, can you? You can’t wait to feel completely possessed by me, like I’ve somehow claimed you. You can’t wait for everyone who you see to stare at you, full of disgust and confusion. You want it, don’t you? Don’t you?”

“Yes, Mr. Langdon,” You nodded, shutting your eyes as he let out a low, shaky groan, his warm cum coating your face.

Fucking hell.

You opened your eyes slowly, carefully, unsure of whether or not you should move. You watched as Michael stuffed himself back into his pants, zipping them quickly, and then he pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, holding it out to you.

You didn’t take it but blinked up at him, staring, “I, um, I thought you said to leave it.”

Clicking his tongued, Michael started wiping your face himself, his touch incredibly light, “I thought you’d say no. Tell me to stop. Maybe report me to HR.”

You flicked your eyebrow up, an amused smile settling on your lips, “Do we have an HR for the apocalypse?” 

Chuckling mirthlessly, he raised the handkerchief to his mouth and spat lightly, cleaning your face more intently, “You could say no, do you realize that? Why don’t you ever say no to me?” 

You closed your eyes as he rubbed across the bridge of your nose, dabbing delicately at your eyelids. 

“Have you ever seen The Princess Bride?” You asked, finally, as he moved to your hairline. 

His brow furrowed in confusion, “I, uh, no? No, I’ve never seen it.” 

“Yeah, I didn’t think so,” His hand moved to your cheek and you leaned into it before you could stop yourself, humming as his thumb moved to run across your skin, “You should watch it sometime. Before you do the whole ending the world thing and kill me and pretty much everyone else in the world and inevitably ruin Netflix. Forget about that. Let’s just say it’s because I’m afraid of you, yeah? You scare me, so I do whatever you say.”

Hesitating for just a moment, Michael pulled his hand away, eyes closed, frowning, “Is that what The Princess Bride is about? Being afraid of your boss?”

You laughed before you could stop yourself, and you found yourself wishing that he would touch your face again, although you didn’t dare say so, “Not quite. Just, uh, forget about The Princess Bride. It doesn’t matter.”

He nodded, folding his handkerchief and slipping it into his pocket without opening his eyes, which you found oddly impressive. 

You kept waiting for Michael to say something, to look at you, to move, to do anything, but he wasn’t and he didn’t and so you stood, and started to move away. 

“Wait,” He spoke finally, and you felt as though you’d been in silence for hours although you knew it must’ve only been a few moments.

“Yes, Mr. Langdon?”

“I’m not going to kill you,” Michael opened his eyes, looking at you carefully, “I mean, the apocalypse. It’s not going to kill you.”

“It’s not? I thought only members of the Cooperative, and the people rich enough to buy a ticket, I thought they were the only ones who were going to make it.” 

He wrapped his hand around your wrist, just as he had before, but this time it wasn’t aggressive, wasn’t rough. He was very gentle, his fingers skimming along the veins, pausing to feel your pulse thump against him, “And you. There will be a place for you in the new world, Y/N, I promise you that.”

And then Michael had released your wrist and turned away, and you made your way out the door and back to your own desk with a soft, “Thank you, Mr. Langdon.”

[taehyungsgrowl]

oh to be fucked on a balcony overlooking the sea by f&r michael the night before the world ends

i don’t write a lot about fire and reign michael bc .. i hated his hair in that episode sknvcs

but 

we can’t pretend that he wouldn’t fuck you bent over a balcony! we just can’t. 

he makes you keep your lingerie on (obviously black designer lace pieces) and he just moves your panties aside, pushing down on the small of your back as he pushes himself in. 

he really likes having you like this because it gives him good access to your ass and he loves to spank you while he’s deep inside. not to mention your hair will be fisted in his hand as he bucks his hips towards you. 

“Michael, I’m gonna cum.” you panted, your knuckles wrapped around the railing. 

Your moans were cut short by a sharp yelp as his hand smacked down on your ass, “Not yet, princess.” Michael pulled himself back, leaving nothing but the tip of his cock inside you. 

His hand wrapped around your neck, his fingertips pressing down gently. You heard his chuckle as you gasped under his touch. 

Michael pressed deep inside you again, holding his position, buried in your wet pussy as he leaned closer, pressing his bare chest to your back, “We’re gonna cum together okay, baby. Can you do that for daddy?”

You nodded your head, your neck still in his grasp. “Good girl.”

Michael removed his hands from your neck and held on to your hips, bringing his hips forward and back repeatedly, making his cock hit your most sensitive spot. His right hand snuck down the waistband of your panties and circled your clit. 

Your eyes that were focused on the moon reflecting on the crashing waves closed shut, feeling your legs tremble. “Fuck,” he moaned, his cock twitched inside of you.

Clenching yourself around him sent Michael over the edge, “Cum,” he moaned through clenched teeth. “Fuck, cum for me baby.” his hips had slowed down as he emptied himself inside of you, but his two finger furiously rubbed at your clit as you came.

The hot sensation of his cum dripping down your inner thigh made you tremble after Michael pulled out of you. You straightened out after your orgasm started to pass. You looked down and noticed imprints of the railings marked on your ribcage. 

Michael’s sea blue eyes noticed it too. He brought one finger below your breasts and traced over the markings the cold metal left. He dropped his head and placed a gentle kiss to the center. 

“Let me take care of you, okay?” he looked back up at you, lifting your chin with the back of his two fingers. 

[icyharrington]

i want fire and reign michael to punish me after i fucked something up. like i want him to degrade me and just edge me till he knows for sure that i’ve learned my lesson 😣

ok so this turned out extremely nasty and way longer than i expected soooo. i apologize for that lmfao. 

warnings: dubcon (even tho there’s an implied relationship between michael and the reader), anal, face fucking, breath play, degradation 

word count: 1.5k 

//

Michael was always the scariest when he was like this: calm, collected, his hands neatly folded behind his back as he regarded you with those baby blue eyes, flickering with a lustful wickedness. You were sure you’d be less frightened of him if he was screaming, or even if he had you on your knees with a knife to your throat. But right now, all he did was look at you. And you were scared shitless.

He smirked. There was no friendliness behind it, no happiness, only a sadistic sort of pleasure as he absorbed your obvious fear. His tongue darted out from his mouth to run over his upper lip as he circled you, enjoying the way you flinched with his every motion.

“Now, (y/n), was I not perfectly clear with my instructions?” he asked you coolly, tilting his head to one side like a predator observing its prey. He was a predator of sorts, you supposed, and a beautiful one at that. You knew he was going to destroy you.

“Y-you were, sir,” you mumbled, eyes on the ground as your hands fidgeted nervously in front of you. Michael had an extremely low tolerance for screwups, always devoid of any sort of sympathy for natural human error. You understood this: he was nowhere near a human, not by a long shot, even though he looked like one with his golden curls and creamy skin.

He let out a chuckle, stopping in front of you. “So then why, pray tell, did you not do what I asked?” He reached forward with a sudden surge of energy and grabbed your face roughly, forcing you to meet his searing gaze. “You will look at me when I speak to you.”

“Y-yes sir,” you said, dangerously close to tears, skin prickling with a familiar warmth as he laughed openly at your distress. “I’m sorry, sir. I- I forgot. I swear I didn’t m-mean to inconvenience you-“

He landed a hard slap to the side of your face, and all at once the tears that had been pooling in your eyes began to travel down your burning cheeks.

“Oh, you forgot?” he asked you with a mocking twinge to his voice, a nasty grin forming on his face. “You aren’t being paid to forget to do as you’re told. And do you know what happens when you don’t do as you’re told?”

You sniffled, trying to keep eye contact with your boss for fear that your disobedience would make him more angry. “I- I get punished?”

“So you didn’t forget that,” he sneered, taking hold of your hair and pulling it taut in his large hands. “Surprising, since apparently your brain doesn’t have the capacity to understand anything I tell you.”

“I’m- I’m sorry, sir,” you sobbed, eyes going bleary with more uncontrollably streaming tears. He brought his face close to yours, plump lips curved downwards and nostrils flared, pulling your hair so tightly you almost cried out.

“Do you think I give a shit?”

You said nothing, only exhaling in partial relief when he let go. Then he widened his eyes at you expectantly, folding his hands behind him once more. “On your knees. Now.”

You immediately did as you were told, dropping so quickly it hurt as you made contact with the hard marble floor. He looked down at you, not a shred of sympathy in sight as he began to retrieve his erection from his expensive black pants. Instinctively, your mouth watered at the sight, long and flushed and leaking precum. You weren’t surprised that he was hard already- he got off on this sort of thing, inflicting fear and pain upon you.

He grabbed his shaft and slapped you across the cheek with it, before reaching down and unhinging your jaw wide for him. You gave him no resistance, not wanting to worsen matters for yourself, and without hesitation he slid himself all the way to the back of your throat.

“Incompetent little sluts don’t get to breathe,” he said, bringing his hand from your jaw to your nose, plugging it as he began to thrust himself deep enough that he could likely see the imprint of his cock in your throat.  You sputtered, trying your best to keep your jaw unhinged, his thrusts ruthless and aggressive.

It didn’t take long for your vision to become spotty, and you found yourself worrying that he might actually let you lose consciousness. You wouldn’t put it past him, in all honesty, and with each hard push into your mouth, you became more and more lightheaded.

“Get it wet,” he growled, forcing your head all the way down on his length with his free hand and holding you there firmly. “Or else you’re really not gonna like what’s happening next.”

You knew better than to question him, his cock suddenly leaving your mouth and fingers unplugging your nose. You took in a sharp, grateful breath, panting as you reached up to wipe away the spit and tears that dribbled down your trembling chin. He didn’t give you much time to recover, though, his cock making contact with the side of your face for a second time.

“Spit on it,” he said, his tone bored and monotone, and you did, taking hold of his thick shaft and forming a wad of saliva in your mouth before letting it dribble down onto his stiff skin. When his cock was practically glistening with your spit, he forced you to your feet by your hair, yanking you towards the desk and throwing you over it. You hissed in pain, the hard wooden edge of the desk cutting into your stomach, curling your hands into fists on either side of your head.

Behind you, Michael hiked your skirt up to your waist and pulled down your pantyhose, making a large tear in the thin fabric in the process. Then came your underwear, which he tore off altogether with little effort, discarding the destroyed scrap on the ground haphazardly.

His palm immediately made contact with the smooth expanse of your exposed ass, bringing his other hand to your opposite cheek and spreading you wide. Your eyes nearly bulged out of your head as you realized what he was planning, but again, you knew better than to protest.

“I’d suggest biting down on something,” he said before pushing the entirety of his cock into your ass without warning. You took his advice, biting the heel of your hand hard enough to bruise as a pitiful scream threatened to escape your swollen lips. It hurt, bad, his thick cock stretching you out, his long fingers digging into your hips mercilessly as he fucked into your tight hole.

The surface of the desk was already spotted with your tears, cheek flush against the polished mahogany as he used you, hard length stretching your ass wide. He let go of one side of you to land a painful smack on your upper thigh, and then another one, this time even harder, on your ass cheek. You were sure your cries were loud enough to be heard throughout the entire building, even with your hand in place to stifle the sounds, but there was nothing you could do to silence yourself.

“M-Michael,” you wailed, hand falling from your mouth and hitting the desk. “Michael, p-please…” you knew your begging would do nothing to change his mind- the two of you had an agreement: when you disobeyed his orders, you would be punished. And this was your punishment.

“What’s that, little slut? You want more?” You could practically hear the smile behind his words, see the cocky expression on his face. You shook your head fervently, lips parted in a silent scream, thighs shaking from the mixture of pleasure and pain that was encompassing your body.

“No, n-no, Michael-“

“Beg me to fill you with my cum.” He reached forward, tangling his fingers with your damp hair and forcing you back towards him. “Say it.”

“P-please, Michael, f-fill me with your c-cum,” you stuttered, eyes rolling to the back of your head, letting out a breath when he stilled inside you. “Please, it’s all I’m good for, p-please.”

You knew this was what he wanted, to hear you degrade yourself. With that, he released your hair and returned to pounding into you; within seconds, he was shooting his warm load deep in your ass.

You were a shaking, sweaty mess when he pulled out, his cum leaking from your hole and trickling down your thighs. He turned you around, sitting you on the edge of the desk as he worked your skirt back down and pulled your ripped pantyhose back into place. Of course he wouldn’t give you the opportunity to clean up, you thought bitterly.

“And what did we learn today?” he asked you, stroking your cheek with an unexpected tenderness, voice low and soft.

“A-always follow your orders correctly?” you managed, hoping your answer was what he was looking for.

“Good girl. Now go do what I asked you to do. Correctly this time.”

[missantichrist]

87. "Fuck you" with a reader n Michael who are currently in a heated argument that turns steamy 😏

Wrote it!

Find it here

[solinarimoon]

Sarah’s 100 Followers Challenge!

Firstly, thank you to all those following me! I did not expect to get into writing fanfiction (even though I’ve been an avid fanfic reader for years) when I started using Tumblr at the end of last year.  I really just needed to try and find more Hvitserk fanfics to read so I turned to Tumblr and it did not disappoint.  Then I certainly did not expect to meet such wonderful mutuals and reach 100 followers after I did start writing back in April.  So to celebrate this milestone I’m doing a challenge!  Participating in @maggiescarborough�� - 500 followers challenge is how I got the courage to start writing and sharing that writing.  They’re really fun and creative and I would love for anyone and everyone to participate if you wish!  They’re a great way to make friends, try something new, or challenge yourself!

Sarah’s 100 Followers Challenge - a few rules:

Writing, moodboards, artwork, whatever you’re inspired to do is welcome!

Send your request for a prompt (list below) you wish to use as an ask. (It will be the easiest way for me to keep track of everyone)

I will update this post as people request prompts - two people per prompt before it will be closed.

I have many fandoms I am a part of even though my writing has only been for TLK so far, so please feel free to do something outside of The Last Kingdom.  I love Vikings (especially Hvitserk), Black Sails, Game of Thrones, The Walking Dead, and many others, so just ask me.

You are free to write anything you wish - AU, canon, OC’s, X Reader, angst, fluff, smut, anything!  But I do ask that if you write on a sensitive/mature topic you use appropriate trigger or ratings for any smut.

My prompts are song lyrics below (golly I hope you guys like my music taste or at least find something inspiring).  You can use just the lyrics I’ve picked or add other portions of the songs if you wish.  Break the lyrics up, keep them together, whatever inspires you. A link to a spotify playlist is at the bottom of this post if you want to listen to them.

Use the Read More function if it’s more than 500 words.

The deadline will be September 30th.

Please tag me in your submissions and use the tag #sarahs100followers

Have FUN!

1. “That's when she went away Away from the light of day Standing by the riverside Patiently waiting for the tide”  - Awakening by Aurora ( @morosemagick​) 

2. “And if the night is burning I will cover my eyes For if the dark returns Then my brothers will die” - I See Fire, Jasmine Thomas Cover ( @emilyhufflepufftlk​ )

3. “Hearts are strong, and our hearts are kind Well, let me tell you just exactly what’s on my mind You are the best thing Ever happened to me” - You Are the Best Thing - Ray LaMontagne ( @geekandbooknerd​ @lauwrite1225 )

4. “When you came to me With your bad dreams and your fears It was easy to see you'd been crying Seems like everywhere you turn Catastrophe it reigns But who really profits from the dying?” - Hold You in my Arms - Ray LaMontagne

5. “As the daylight sinks As I fail to stop and think Once I cursed the things I've done Won't you please forgive me” -  The New Love Song - The Avett Brothers ( @maggiescarborough )

6. “There's a darkness upon you that's flooded in light And in the fine print They tell you what's wrong and what's right” -  Head Full of Doubt/Road Full of Promise - The Avett Brothers ( @artemiseamoon )

7. “That's when you need someone Someone that you, you can call When all your faith is gone And it feels like you can't go on Let it be me” -  Let It Be Me - Ray LaMontagne

8. “Take me back to the night we met When the night was full of terrors And your eyes were filled with tears When you had not touched me yet” -  The Night We Met - Lord Huron ( @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie​ )

9. “Kiss me like you wanna be loved You wanna be loved” -  Kiss Me - Ed Sheeran  ( @mrsalwayswrite​)

10. “It's a stage of stone out in the woods Our spotlight was the sun Where far too many times I stood Til the weary day was done” -  Secret Place - Mia Lynne Rose ( @93xdiagonxalley​ )

11. “My past has tasted bitter for years now So I wield an iron fist Grace is just weakness Or so I've been told I've been cold, I've been merciless But the blood on my hands scares me to death” -  I’ll Be Good - Jaymes Young ( @morosemagick​  @magravenwrites​)

12. “All alone scared in your room, would you swear there's nobody home On the bed laying awake as you prayed he'd leave you alone I'll let the darkness swallow me whole I need to find you, need you to know” -  Salt and the Sea - Gregory Alan Isakov

13. “Oh, 'cause they will run you down, down 'til the dark Yes and they will run you down, down 'til you fall And they will run you down, down 'til you go Yeah, so you can't crawl no more” -  Way Down We go - KALEO ( @for-bebbanburg @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie )

14. “You are my sweetest downfall I loved you first, I loved you first Beneath the stars came fallin' on our heads But they're just old light, they're just old light” - Samson - Regina Spektor ( @serasvictoria )

15. “I can't look out the window I can't look at this place I can't look at the stars They make me wonder where you are” -  Stars - Grace Potter and the Nocturnals

16. “So, help me decide Help me to make up Make up my mind Wouldn't that save you” -  Save You - Matthew Perryman Jones

17. “The stones you throw can make me bleed But I won't stop until we're free Wild hearts can't be broken” -  Wild Hearts Can’t be Broken - P!nk

18. “I talk to you but it's not the same as touchin' you And every time you whisper my name, I want to run to you” -  Missing You Now - Michael Bolton ( @emilyhufflepufftlk​ )

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6lWKtehGxnFEqIWeRSK2zt

No pressure tags for my mutuals who may be interested: @maggiescarborough @morosemagick @emilyhufflepufftlk @lauwrite1225 @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie @serasvictoria @for-bebbanburg @mrsalwayswrite @geekandbooknerd @magravenwrites

[langdxn]

How would different stages of Michael react if the reader accidentally called him “daddy” during sex?

Is there ever such a thing as accidentally calling Michael daddy? 👀

Grunge!Michael freezes in motion, his length nestled halfway inside you when he stares at you quirking an eyebrow. “You mean that?” He grins from ear to ear and leans in to kiss you before it finally hits him, and the power goes straight to his head. He takes hold of your shoulders and flips you over until you’re straddling his waist, slipping his hands down to cradle your hips. He growls like a beast while his eyes roll into the back of his head — “Ride me and call me daddy again, baby girl.”

Hawthorne!Michael is pleasantly surprised you’ve worked out his weakness so quickly, the corner of his lips curls ever so slightly and his eyes narrow as he snaps his hips harder into you, fighting the urge to cum on the spot. “Good girl, and who does this pussy belong to?” You better hope you’re not on top when “daddy” slips off your tongue, otherwise he’s flipping you over and piledriving you into the mattress for the rest of the week, Seven Wonders practice or not.

Sojourn!Michael wasn’t expecting to be quite so turned on by you calling him “daddy”, so he gazes deeply into your eyes, pulling you in for a searing, haunting, lingering kiss. “I love you so much,” he gushes, leaning in to press his chest against yours, maintaining intimate contact with your entire body. It takes him a minute to remember he’s still inside you, so he slowly rocks his hips into yours, languid, curled thrusts that ensure his cock hits your walls in just the right spot. “Say that again for me, baby.”

F&R!Michael doesn’t even miss a beat. “You’re damn right,” he hums as his thrusts become sharp and staccato, reaching to curl his fingers around your throat and applying a dangerous amount of pressure on your airways. He drinks in the ecstasy flickering in your eyes as your blood races to your head, he revels in your gasps for breath and he adores the way your walls flutter around him with every perfectly choreographed whip of his hips. “Now be a good girl for daddy and cum all over my cock.”

The name “daddy” tumbles out while you’re sinking down onto Outpost!Michael’s cock, head thrown back and unravelling on top of him, and it hits him like an instant aphrodisiac. His eyes widen and bleed to black in an instant, his nails scratching fervently down your spine before wandering to knead at your breasts. “That’s my girl,” he purrs softly, breathing in the vision of you melting as you grind onto him. He pulls himself up to wrap his arms around you, holding you flush against him and gently kissing your forehead. “Daddy’s gonna take good care of you.”

[beautyiswithinchaos]

*** Disclaimer: all new writing is over @beautifully-chaotic-dreams ***

♡︎ Welcome to Sh!t Show ♡︎

If you have questions, you can DM me. I take requests, but you’ll have to excuse my crappy writing (okay, it’s not that bad lol)

(P.S. This is my first time making a masterlist so let me know if I’m missing something ☻︎)

꧁ 𝕄𝔸𝕊𝕋𝔼ℝ𝕃𝕀𝕊𝕋 ꧂

* - smut

❣︎ - fluff

☹︎ - angst

———

Michael Langdon

Series

A Helping Hand (ongoing) - (Michael Langdon x fem!Reader) When Langdon calls you to his office, the meeting takes an awry turn when he brings up something from your past. || Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 |

One-Shots

Sweet Relief * ft. Fire&Reign!Michael

Movie Night *

Home ☹︎ ❣︎ ft. Sojourn!Michael

Surprise Visitors *

Class Reunions Are Overrated ❣︎* ft. Outpost!Michael

Blurbs

Laughing on the Outside

Michael being a tease *

Jim Mason

One-Shots

Quiet Company ☹︎ ❣︎ | Part 2

Party Favors

Spencer Reid

Disappointment ☹︎ ❣︎*

Laughter is the Best Medicine ☹︎ ❣︎

[fernfiction]

Masterlist

(All include smut unless mentioned)

(will be updated as and when)

Michael Langdon

Fire&Reign Michael & Corruption Kink

Fire&Reign Michael & Corruption Kink part 2

Outpost Michael x Reader

Outpost Michael reaches reader how to masturbate

Michael x Reader - Lactation Kink

--------

Jim Mason

Jim taking readers virginity

Jim Mason x Reader - Soft Smut

Baby daddy Jim x Reader

Jim Mason x Reader - Boat Party Sex

--------

Duncan Shepherd

Duncan x Reader - Dick worship

Duncan x Reader - Rough jealous sex

Duncan x Andy x Reader Threesome

Faking an orgasm with Duncan

--------

Xavier Plympton

Xavier helping reader with a panic attack - No smut

Xavier x Reader - Sub Xavier at the studio

Xavier x Reader - Enemies to Lovers

--------

Andy Dolan

Sir - Andy x Reader

Andy x Duncan x Reader Threesome

[heavymetalover]

Call Me Daddy (Michael Langdon x fem reader)

Part II

Summary: Michael is about to become your step dad and the two of you have an unusual relationship…

Warnings: daddy kink (duh), nsfw, dirty talk, female masturbation, mean!michael, cockwarming, vaginal sex, rough sex.

WC: 4k

A/N: long awaited, but ive licherally had the worst few months mentally lmao so i hope you can understand. anywaysz heres pt 2 in all of its fucked up glory…

~~~~

 “Sex on the Beach,” your mom says.

“What?” you gasp, slapping down the menu you were hiding behind.

“And for you?” the waiter asks. A hint of confusion is spread on his face, but is conclusively overridden with professionalism.

“Oh,” you sigh, there’s a slight raspiness to your voice from all the screaming you did last night. “Just a water,” you fold up the menu and hand it to the waiter with a faux smile. You’ve been zoning in and out of consciousness today, ultimately trying to talk yourself out of believing what you did with Michael. You don’t even know how you brought yourself to talk to your mom, let alone sit face to face with her and share a drink. You’re going to be sick.

Your mom sighs, looking at you up and down. “What am I going to do with you?” she asks, shaking her head. “You’re just like me when I was your age. I mean, look at the circles under your eyes,” she reaches over the table to point on your face, “did you even get a wink of sleep?”

Now that she pointed it out, you feel the sudden urge to yawn. “I was cramming,” you yawn. Your mom raises a brow inquisitively. “Cramming for a test, studying,” you quickly explain, “I was studying all night.”

“Yeah, I bet,” she rolls her eyes. “I’m not stupid, y/n.”

You swallow hard, staring daggers at your mom. “What do you mean?” you ask. The waiter drops off your orders, but he might as well be invisible.

Your mom sighs and takes a sip of her drink. “You don’t have to lie to me,” she says, “I know you were at a party last night. I was your age once, too.”

You let out a shaky breath, “Yeah, you’re right.” Every word that comes out of her mouth now sounds threatening. How are you going to live under the same roof as the two of them? Last night was a mistake to say the least. You don’t know how you’ll live with yourself, especially since you haven’t seen Michael since…

Your mom waves someone down and you glance over your shoulder, making eye contact with his light blue eyes only for a moment. His eyes glue to your moms until he reaches the table and kisses her on the cheek, squeezing into the seat next to her. He’s completely ignoring your presence, rolling up the sleeves of his formfitting black turtleneck and talking to your mom.

Michael flips through the menu and you stare at him, waiting for acknowledgment, and being met with disappointment. “Their cocktails are great,” your mom enthuses, rubbing his slim bicep. “I’ve had this before,” she points at the menu, “it’s really good.”

You don’t even hide your stares, being as obvious as you can be about it. You know he knows you’re looking at him and waiting for the satisfaction of his eyes to meet yours. “Michael likes sex on the beach,” you exclaim. Both of them look up at you, Michael’s face is pale and his lips are pressed into a straight line. “Doesn’t he?” you turn to your mom.

There’s an aggressive silence between all of you, but the tension is most apparently shared between you and Michael. “Oh, I don’t think he likes the sweeter drinks,” your mom finally answers for him. Michael hasn’t taken his eyes off of you. He stares at you with, the only way you can describe it, sheer hatred.

The waiter comes back again, hands behind his back. He stands patiently and asks Michael if he’s decided on anything from the menu. After a few more moments, he breaks his stare and looks down at his menu. “I think a bourbon would be great,” he smiles, “that’s it.” He turns back to look at you, eyes wide. You can practically hear his voice, soft yet demanding, in your ear. Behave kitten, his voice purrs in your skull. Behave or I’ll have to punish you. You’re gushing just at the thought.

Your mom dismisses herself from the table to go to the bathroom and gives Michael one more quick kiss before leaving. He watches her walk away with a faint smile, then turns to you. “So, you’re just going to hold this over my head now?” he whispers over the table, eyes darting around in case your mom pops back.

You sit back in your seat and cross your arms over your chest. It’s like you’re programmed to always be defiant with Michael. “No,” you reply nonchalantly with a shrug.

He scoffs and shakes his head. “If you’re going to act this childish, then whatever happened last night should be left on that beach.”

“Fine,” you spout.

“Fine,” he replies casually.

You feel your face twisting in anger. Michael takes everything from you; your mom, your house, your life. You can’t bare letting him have the last word. “Good,” you answer, subtly trying to shift in your seat from the soreness he’s caused you.

His eyes trail down your body, watching you struggle from his damage, and he smiles slightly. “Good.”

Fucking asshole.

----

The cute guy from the party last week shoves his tongue down your throat. His name is Derek… or Dylan. Whatever it is, it doesn’t matter to you. You and Michael have successfully ignored each other this past week. He started doing his work in his room, spending all his free time with your mom, and fucking her louder than he ever has before just to piss you off. It’s working.

You sit on the kitchen counter while Derek craned his head up, caressing your legs with a gentle touch. Despite not knowing his exact name, you like him. You like running your fingers through his curly brown hair and tasting the remnants of peppermint gum in his mouth.

“Maybe we should take this upstairs,” he breathes into your lips.

Your heart skips a beat, now facing the only reason you brought him here in the first place. You want Michael to walk in on the two of you. Even though it’s difficult for you to admit that to yourself, it’s true. The only place you two ever cross paths anymore is in the kitchen, but Michael’s been out of the house all day. You’re willing to kiss this boy for hours if it means Michael will see the two of you for a second.

You wrap your legs around him, pulling him smack against the counter. “I like it here,” you lie. Your ass is getting numb from sitting on the counter, but you don’t dare show it.

Derek continues kissing you; his hands drift up your dress and round your hips to cup your ass. He hostilely shifts you closer to him and you gasp into his kiss. His fingers inch closer to your pussy and you feel your heart beating in your throat, you’ve been craving a possessive touch.

He presses one finger against your clit and you let out a shaky breath. He pulls the fabric of your panties to the side and starts rubbing your clit up and down, not quite as skillful as you were hoping. You put your hand over his and pilot his fingers to move in small, slow circles like Michael does.

You shut your eyes tight; finally feeling somebody else’s touch is so liberating. “M’yeah,” you moan into his mouth, “just like that, daddy.”

“Daddy?” he says with a slight chuckle. You stop kissing him for a moment and his half-lidded green eyes stare up at you. “That’s so hot.”

He reaches up to give sloppy kisses, forcing his tongue into your mouth again. His fingers lag when he focuses on kissing you, but you don’t mind. You like his lips; you could taste his minty kiss for hours. He speeds up his pace on your clit and you throw your head back in pleasure. He moves his lips to your neck and starts sucking to leave love bites, until the two of you are interrupted.

“Off,” Michael’s frigid voice cuts the sexual tension like a knife. “Off the counter, now,” he orders you.

Michael grabs Derek’s arm and pulls his hand away from you. “Is this your dad?” he laughs as Michael pushes him out of the kitchen.

“Yeah, I am,” Michael answers for you.

You slide off of the kitchen counter and follow them, grabbing Michael’s shoulder and pulling him away from your date. “No, he’s not,” you spit, directing it more at Michael than Derek. “He’s my step dad.” You’re looking at Michael while you speak, his nostrils flare in anger. “And he has no fucking authority over me.”

He pauses for a moment to shoot you a dirty glance. “Yeah?” he asks you with a slight nod. You shrug your shoulders, as you always do when you want to piss him off. Derek looks at the two of you, completely oblivious to the underlying tension. Michael shoves Derek closer to the door and you follow him, trying to stop them. Michael holds a hand up to you. “Stay in the kitchen, y/n, or so help me God.”

You sigh and reluctantly walk back into the kitchen, watching your date being kicked out of the house. Your mom is unloading bags of groceries by the front step as Derek stumbles out of the house, she tries to hold in her laughter and your lips curl into a smile. Your mom walks back to the car when Michael sets his sights on you, your smile fading when you see his outrage. Shit.

“Michael, I can explain,” you start.

He pushes you against the refrigerator door, your back slams into the glacial stainless steel. “No authority?” he fumes. His warm hands reach between your thighs to find your sex, dripping through your lace panties. He starts rubbing your clit in circles, somehow his hands know you better than you know yourself. His talented fingers circle your deprived clit. You grab onto his toned arm and brace yourself against the fridge, feeling your whole body tense up under his touch. It’s everything you’ve been missing and you hate yourself for it. “Are you stupid enough to think he’d touch you like I do? He’d fuck you like I do?” he asks through gritted teeth; his temper seems genuine. You moan at his touch in response and he smacks your cheek, taking your face in his hand. “Answer me.”

“No, daddy,” you respond warmly.

“That’s right,” he coos. You quickly feel yourself coming undone under him. You hear your mom drop off another bag of groceries at the front door step and fight the urge to groan from Michael’s touch, instead trying to breathe through the elation. “Look at the authority I have over you,” he mocks, “you can barely speak.”

Your mouth trembles, searching for a quick and witty response, but he’s right. You’ve got nothing. All you can focus on is your hot, beating core being pillaged by Michael. His hand moves faster and you take in a deeper breath, unable to hide your loud moans any longer. Michael slaps a hand over your mouth and smiles. “You like the way your dad touches you, hm?” he presses, moving even faster over your sensitive clit. You purse your lips together under his hand and nod your head, trying to be as quiet as you can and failing. “Such a good little girl for daddy,” he whispers.

He takes his hand off of your mouth and leans in for a kiss. “Michael!” your mom calls from the front door. Michael doesn’t respond, he keeps his lips locked to yours, his hand rubbing your cunt harder and faster. “I’m thinking we should do a movie night with y/n tonight!” she yells.

“If you’re good tonight, maybe I’ll let you finish,” he mumbles into your lips. Your mom’s footsteps approach the kitchen and Michael pulls away from you, leaving you an unfinished, disheveled mess against the refrigerator. “Yeah, that sounds great,” he says back to her and leaves to help with the groceries.

She walks into the kitchen and her eyebrows furrow when she looks at you. “You okay?” she asks. You breathe in response, still collecting yourself from Michael’s wicked spell. She shakes her head and rolls her eyes. “Go clean yourself up. You look… dirty.”

And you sure felt it, too.

----

You pull your bag of popcorn out of the microwave, sighing when opening it and finding nearly half of the kernels unpopped. Whatever. This night is going to be a travesty anyways, might as well add unpopped popcorn to the list of things that could go wrong.

You saunter into the living room and plop onto the chair opposite of the couch. Your mom and Michael sit on the couch together, practically sitting on top of each other with how close they are. It makes you want to gag. You take a handful of the not-so-popcorn popcorn and stuff it in your mouth as the movie starts up.

Your mom picked the movie. It’s some rom-com type flick that’s not really your style. You scroll through your phone instead of watching the movie and things don’t seem too bad at first. If you had your earbuds, it would be just like any regular night. Until it isn’t.

Your mom and Michael start locking lips on the couch. At some point you swear you saw Michael shoot you a glance while his lips were on your mom’s. You stuff your face with the shitty popcorn, opting to hear your chewing instead of their kisses, but it still doesn’t drown out the sound. You look over at them with disgust, but for some ungodly reason you feel a pang of jealousy in your chest. “Ew, oh my god, can you guys not fuck for like five seconds?” you accidentally blurt out.

Your mom pulls away and stares at you with a dumbfounded look on her face. “Y/n, watch your language,” she scolds.

“Sorry. I meant, can you stop sucking face and being gross while I’m in the room,” you respond sarcastically. Michael presses his lips together, clearly suppressing a smile. He must love seeing you jealous after what happened earlier today.

“If you hate it so much then why don’t you sit here,” your mom says, moving away from Michael and patting the spot in between the two of them.

You sigh, rolling your eyes and standing up. You trudge towards them, reminding yourself that this movie must only have another hour to it and then you can go back to peaceful, Michael-less solitude. You’re about to drop into the seat between them when Michael takes your arm and pulls you towards him. “Come and sit on daddy’s lap,” he says jokingly.

You look at him with wide eyes, then at your mom who found it amusing. You let out an obvious fake laugh, but Michael pulls you so hard that you fall onto his lap. You awkwardly twist around in his lap, trying to look at the television screen. “Aw, see, I knew you two would eventually get along,” your mom teases.

“We get along plenty. Right, y/n?” he asks, bouncing you on his leg.

You feel reduced to an infant. “Mhm,” you respond through your anger. How can Michael do this to you in front of your mom? Half of the time you don’t know what kind of diabolical thoughts run through his head.

He puts his hand on your thigh and you tense under his touch. “Damn, you’re so cold,” he says. You touch your leg, it feels normal to you, but he insists on throwing a blanket over you. You keep the blanket on the lower half of your body and shift around on his lap. Although this gag is amusing to him and your mom, his legs are not as comfortable as a couch cushion would be.

As you’re adjusting yourself, your ass brushes against Michael’s hard, naked cock. When you realize what he’s doing, you subtly look over your shoulder and look down at him. Communicating an are-you-fucking-serious look on your face without saying a word. He grabs onto your hips as if telling you to lift them slightly. You don’t know why, but you follow his orders. You lift yourself up slightly and feel his hands quickly shove your panties to the side and line his head up to your hole. He takes your hips again, guiding you to sit down on his cock.

You sit down on his dick, feeling him slowly stretch your tight walls; even though they’re still raw from your last rendezvous. You mask your gasp with a laugh, pretending that the mediocre joke in the movie was hilarious to you. “Don’t move,” Michael whispers in your ear.

He’s filled your pussy to the hilt, his cock is so big and thick that it almost hurts how delicious he feels inside of you. You shut your eyes, trying to focus on keeping your face neutral and listening to the actors on screen, but your pussy has a mind of its own. You feel your cunt quivering, throbbing, spilling all over of Michael’s dick. You open your eyes again, trying to pay attention to the movie and look down at Michael, who looks as if nothings happening. As if he isn’t balls deep inside of his step daughter.

You keep still. Every muscle in your body is on high alert and stays completely tense. You dig your nails into your thighs, wanting nothing more than fuck this whole situation and bounce on his writhing cock, but instead you follow his instructions and keep still.

A moment washes over you where you feel fine, but it’s immediately consumed by pleasure in an instant, causing you to lean back on Michael. His dick shifts inside of you and you let out a breathy moan. “Mmaaaah-oh, it’s so strange how they keep running into each other, hm?” you try to cover yourself.

Your mom, too enveloped in the movie, just gives you a tired “mhm” in response.

You grab onto Michael’s arm that isn’t visible to your mom and dig your nails into his skin. He looks up at you and you look down at him. He must feel how pent up your pussy’s getting. He must feel your cunt twitch and your walls tightening around his cock. He must feel how sweltering hot and unavailingly wet you’re getting. You’re sure if you were to stand up now, his pants would be soaking in your sinful juices.

He budges under you, his cock moving slightly inside you and a tear runs down your cheek. This nearly sends you over the edge, you open your mouth to scream, but thankfully your sobs get choked at the back of your throat. He grabs onto your arm too, squeezing it lightly for reassurance.

You’re close to coming; if he were to pound himself into you now, only once or twice would do the trick. You let out a breathy sigh, another tear falls down your cheek, but your mom doesn’t notice. She’s too busy munching on your not-so-popcorn popcorn and keeping her eyes glued to the tv screen, watching as the two love interests sit down at a shabby New York restaurant.

“Y/n, you’ll love this part,” she says, not even batting an eye your way.

You’re all startled at the doorbell ringing. Your mom jumps from her seat and pauses the movie. You quickly wipe away any evidence of tears from your face. “Ooh, that must be the pizza! Let me run upstairs and get my purse,” she announces. You and Michael intently watch her skitter out the room.

Michael immediately slams you onto the couch cushions and pounds his throbbing cock into you. “You were driving me fucking crazy,” he sighs. He digs his cock into your tight twat and shoves his fingers in your mouth, to stop your moaning. You suck on his salty fingers, sucking off one of the rings off of his fingers and spitting it onto the floor.

You let out a loud groan and grind your hips against him, entering the most excruciating, yet euphoric, orgasm you’ve ever felt. Michael throws his head back, rolling his eyes in pleasure. “You’re such a dirty fucking slut,” he jeers, “fucking daddy right in front of mommy. You’re so goddamn nasty.”

“I’m your dirty little girl, daddy,” you say in your highest, syrupy voice.

Michael laughs out a wavy breath, “Yeah you are, baby.” He positions himself over you better and climbs on top of you, hammering his hefty cock into your taut slit, nearly splintering you. “Now come for me,” he whispers into your lips, “come for daddy.”

A few small moans leave your lips. You dig your nails into the fabric of his shirt, undoubtedly leaving claw marks along his back. You grind on him harder and he pushes into you deeper. “Come on, baby girl,” he encourages, leaving a weak kiss on your lips. Both of you pant into each other’s mouths, reaching for each other’s lips every few seconds to give a pathetic kiss.

You shut your eyes, another tear falling down your face, but this time it’s from release. “Holy fucking shit!” you scream, Michael slaps his hand over your mouth. You come all over his cock, hard. Harder than you’ve ever come before. Your pussy gushes all over him, all over the couch, all over the blankets. Your walls squeeze him so tight that even he comes from your orgasm, emptying his sticky seed inside of your hot cunt.

Normally you would take a second to absorb what just happened, but you hear the door slam shut and sit up. Michael puts himself away and you sit up on the couch next to him, shutting your legs together to aid the soreness that’s already overtaking your tender pussy.

You’re scrambling to find your phone when Michael take’s your head in his hands and kisses you on the lips. His kiss is deep and passionate, almost like a warm, romantic kiss you’d receive from a lover. It makes your heart skip a beat. He pulls away and your mouth hangs open. You must have a dumb look on your face because Michael smiles at you. “You’re so fucking pretty, baby.”

He slumps back in his seat and your face turns hot. Your mom walks into the living room and sets the pizza down on the table. “It took me forever to find my purse upstairs, I must’ve forgot where I left it,” she sighs. You glance at Michael, suspecting it was his doing and it was his plan all along to fuck you tonight. That bastard.

Your mom sinks into the seat next to you and looks at the two of you. Her attention shifting between you and Michael. “Aw man,” she finally sighs, “I thought you two were gonna sit together the whole time.” She does an exaggerated pouty face and Michael forces a laugh. You just take out your phone and start scrolling through social media, trying to take your mind off of what just happened. “Anyways,” she says and hits a button on the remote, “back to the movie.”

[prophecy-is-inevitable]

On the Eve of November

Outpost!Michael x Demon! Fem Reader Oneshot

Halloween night marks Michael’s final victory over the witches, and his father sends you--a Prince of Hell--to offer your congratulations to his son.

Warnings: Smut...this is really just smut. Language, Some Blasphemy, maybe a little fighting for dominance, Scratching (let me know if I need to add anything!)

Word Count: 5k (WHOOPS)

Outpost!Michael won the poll, so here is the Halloween oneshot I promised! I hope you all enjoy, and have a great Halloween! (Bonus points to you if you know which Prince you are before the end.)

--------

The fires and candle flames of Outpost 3 flickered into nonexistence and threw the empty hallways into shadow. The tendrils of smoke rising from the wicks and embers funneled to one concentrated spot and blotted out any remaining light. As soon as your form finished materializing, your nose crunched at the acrid smell of vomit and blood. Heels clicked on along the floor as you wove your way around the room and past the array of bloodied, decapitated, or smoldering bodies around your feet. You hiked up the burnt, ragged edges of your long skirt to avoid the mess. It was one thing to cause such carnage, and it was another thing entirely to wear it.

“What the fuck, Michael,” your groaned. Your pace quickened as you hunted for the man. It wasn’t hard--just follow the bodies. Candles and fires relit upon your approach to light your way through the complex. It looked like absolute chaos. Large bullet holes littered the once perfectly polished wood walls, and blood and organs had exploded over the stairs. It was a lovely tomb, far too generous for these failed humans, you thought. You quirked an eyebrow at the body of a woman laying on the floor missing her heart. At least he was keeping his energy up with all of this. You rounded a corner to see him standing in the hallway with his back to you and his elegant clothes in tatters. His shoulders were tensed and he pulsed with the energy prepared for a fight.

He whipped around and extended a hand towards you, intending to launch you against the wall, and you deflected the attack with a dismissive wave of your hand. His crystalline eyes widened a fraction as his lips curled into a silent snarl. You tilted your head to the side with an incredulous furrow of your brows and a soft smile at his reaction.

“Really, Michael?” He stood straighter at the sight of you, his eyes searching you from head to toe, and you sway carefully over to him as if approaching a caged lion. His eyes held the same predatory, calculating, coldness on that beautifully chiseled face. 

“You.” He spit the word as if it’s the same poison on his tongue he’d used to kill the inhabitants. Your eyes widened in a gesture of mock hurt, and you placed an ornately armored hand to your chest, each piece of clawed armor on your fingers clinking together.

“Me? Here I thought you’d be happy to see me. I’m happy to see you.” You pouted when reaching your other silver clawed hand out to wipe some of the blood from his cheek. He gripped your wrist in a vice with his rings digging into the broken shackle around the delicate joint. 

“Why are you here?” Your pout melted into a smooth, seductive smirk. He still towered over you, and you looked into his turquoise eyes from under your lashes.

“Daddy might not always answer you, precious, but he’s always listening.” Feigning boredom, you began to run one metal nail under the other. He practically growled at the pet name and you chuckled. “After a pathetic fiasco in 1984, he decided to take a more passive roll with summons and rituals. Otherwise, people would never shut the fuck up with their pathetic begging. ‘Save me this’ and ‘help me’ that. That’s what God is for, you wretches.” Your eyes narrowed up as him, and you reached out to try and straighten his shirt and salvage whatever was left of his style. The bloodstained velvet of his dinner jacket had somehow managed to retain the smooth and luxurious texture, and the heat of his body kept the fabric warm beneath your fingers. The richness of the material suited him. “Since the apocalypse, I haven’t been very busy, and--as a mere prince--I have to do what your daddy says,” you shrugged, running your hands down his lapels. “Consider me a sort of...answering service. Though you seem to have everything well in hand. How about that!” Your head tilted once again with a coy smile.

“You didn’t answer my question,” Michael said through gritted teeth. His lips are pursed tightly in his annoyance, and the air grew stagnant in the hallway around you both. Michael took a step closer until you were nearly breathing on his chest. “Answer me. Now.” His voice rose marginally, and it’s just enough to echo through the vacant halls. 

“Oh, listen to you! Making demands of an Archdemon and a Prince of Hell! My, how you’ve--” Michael’s hand quickly grasped your throat and squeezed. What he anticipated causing you pain earned him a moan instead as your eyes slipped closed. You could feel his grip falter momentarily in his confusion before it grew more intense. You gasped and released a breathless chuckle. His gaze searched your face, you could feel his eyes taking in every aspect of your lustful expression. Suddenly, his hand released you, and he took a few steps back with a tight smirk.

“That is exactly why you’re here, isn’t it?” He watched you with a side glance as you adjusted the chandelier choker at your neck and shoulders.

“Whatever do you mean?” Your eyelashes fluttered with an ill-suited expression of innocence. Michael’s eyes travelled down to the deep v of your dress that plunged to the top of your navel. The dark laughter bubbled from low in his chest and reverberated in the halls as he tipped his head back. It had you absolutely throbbing with need and was fucking embarrassing. Then again, this was Satan’s son, the highest Crowned Prince of Hell, created to be every idea of perfection and desire there could be. From the shimmering strands of golden silk draping his shoulder, to his slender perfect nose, to those mesmerizing oasis eyes set within the dunes of his elegant cheekbones… You couldn’t have designed him more perfectly yourself, and you had a lot of ideas thanks to your reign.

Michael ran his tongue along his upper teeth and continued to smirk at you. He tilted his head inquisitively, and you mimicked him playfully. The timber of his voice had dropped to a dangerously seductive tone filled with confidence when he spoke again.

“I have won.”

“A very astute observation, Michael.” Slowly, he sauntered back to you and ran one ringed finger along your cheek and down your jaw.

“I have won. I’ve done everything he asked. Cordelia let her successor die before she could complete her plan.” Michael extended his arms out from his sides, a prideful smirk stretching across his lip, and he cocked his head to the side. “There is no one left to stop me.” The warmth of Michael’s hand rested on a bare section of your clavicle as he looked over your body once again. His smirk grew and he inhaled deeply through his nose.

“Now, I’m receiving my reward. Father sent you, did he not? One of his princes, here to please me in the hour of my greatest victory, and on our night no less. The night before your powers are at their strongest, if I’m not mistaken.” Michael leaned his head down and his breath ghosted across your cheek as he spoke softly. You could feel his lips only a hair’s breadth away from the shell of your ear.

His words should not have caused the goosebumps that prickled across your arms and chest, nor should it have caused the slight weakness in your knees. You had been around for millennia. You had 72 legions of demons under your command, dammit! How dare--

Michael’s lips brushed along your neck above the elaborate jewelry veiling your soft skin. He knew exactly what effect he had on. The hierarchy of demons granted him the ability to toy with you just as he did with humans despite your ancient status. And he played you like a child with their favorite old toy. Michael’s hands gripped your hips tightly and, with a violent jerk, he tugged you flush against him. 

You didn’t even want to fight him. You wanted him to have his moment and embrace his victory--embrace you. Despite the lack of necessity for breath, you found yourself panting against him in anticipation. The tip of his tongue traced up the tendon in your neck up to your jaw. The mewl that slipped from between your lips was almost embarrassing and made worse by his syrupy chuckle that you could feel against your chest. You were positively dripping, and there was no doubt that he knew. 

“Hell has sent its greatest whore to pleasure me, I see. What, was Lilith too busy today?” His verbal jab made your eyes narrow dangerously. That succubus had nothing on you, and you would prove it. Renewed vigor flowed through you as your hands gripped his jacket tightly; the sharp metal claws tipping your fingers scratched and tore into the thick, expensive fabric adorning his chest.

“I’m going to make it so that you don't even remember her name. From now on, whenever your cock gets hard, you’re going to think of me,” you purred into his ear as you stood on your toes. Using the purchase you had on his clothing, you dragged his mouth to yours and moaned at the sweet and smoky taste of his sultry full lips. Michael's body radiated power and the heat of the inferno from which he was born, and it drew you in like a moth to a roaring bonfire.

Michael’s hands clenched into fist at your waist, and you heard the sharp inhale through his nose when you ran your tongue along the curve of his lips. It was your turn to chuckle. Dominion over lust had not been granted to you without reason, and you’d had centuries of playing with mortals and lesser demons to perfect your...talents. You weren’t entirely helpless against the superiority of the Antichrist. The feeling of his rigid length pressed firmly against your stomach proved that.

Within seconds the power shifted, and he had you against the wall. His dull nails sank into the sensitive flesh of your inner thighs when he bunched up your skirts and held your legs apart around his waist. The touch was scalding. You could feel the crescent marks burning into your skin.

“Not making empty promises, are we?” Michael crooned, the tip of his nose dancing along yours. The smirk on his face was predatory when your lips parted with the expectation of another searing kiss. His wicked laughter caused a shiver that ran up your spine. “What makes you think you are worthy of me?”

With your heels locked behind his waist, you used the position to your advantage and flexed your legs to grind your hips together. As much as he talked shit, you knew he wanted this, but two could play his game. A light breath, akin to that of blowing out a candle, forced Michael off of you and against the opposite wall. 

“If I’m so unworthy, I suppose I will simply show myself out.” You vanished in the blink of an eye, your playful chuckle bounding throughout the underground complex. Of course, you made it very easy for him to find you. All Michael needed to do was follow the trail of lit candles up to the room he had inhabited as his office while at Outpost 3. The growl he emitted upon opening the door and seeing you sitting so daintily on the spiral iron staircase made your eyes burn with unbridled lust. 

Michael stalked over to you with a scowl on his face, golden hair billowing around his shoulders from the speed of his strides, and you parted your legs wantonly to welcome him between them. You had him eating out of the palm of your hand whether he would ever admit it or not. Michael was rough when he pulled your hips against his once more. Your metallic claws dragged down his torso and cut through his shirt and jacket to leave thin red marks on his otherwise unblemished skin. You could feel him twitch against you with his pants the only barrier standing between the two of you.

Both of your hands grasped onto the metal rails of the stairs when he sharply yanked your hips towards the edge of the stair. The last thing you expected was to see him dropping to his knees and burying his face between your legs. Your head tipped back against the stair above you with a strangled cry of surprise that quickly morphed into a long moan. Instantly, your hands sank into the satin curtains of hair around his head as his tongue made a long swipe over your folds. His movements were impatient when he forced your legs farther apart.

“Michael…” You could feel the smirk on his lips when he took your clit into his mouth and sucked. Hard. Your back arched against the stairs and your hands scrambled to grab onto his shoulder. It had been so long since someone had sought to pleasure you as much as themselves. He certainly didn’t get those manners from his father…

Michael’s teeth nipped at your sensitive nerves and you yelped, filling the room with your loud cries of pleasure. Soft sounds of tearing fabric filled your ears when you continued to clutch his shoulders so hard that his jacket ripped at the seams. The deeper he worked his tongue into your core, the brighter his celestial eyes burned. It made your chest heave as you stared at each other, waiting to see who would break first.

It was you.

Michael stumbled back when you pushed him away. His eyes flared black in his agitation, and you returned the obsidian gaze. Short strides carried you to him until your hands grasped his sculpted face and drew his lips back to yours. It was a dance of domination and desperation, your tongue swirling and battling against his while you both inhaled the growing heat and arousal of your flushed skin. At the same time, your steps urged him backwards until he dropped down into the chair behind the desk. Ah, victory. It looked so sweet when it came in the form of Michael man-spreading in a chair with mused hair, kiss-swollen lip, and a very obvious and impressive erection all courtesy of you. You knelt in front of him before he had the chance to move. He had done the same for you, and you weren’t so cold as to not return the favor.

Michael’s eyes watched you carefully. At first, his expression almost looked like boredom, but you could see the tension in his jaw and feel the way his abdominal muscles contracted beneath your fingers. You pursed your lips while deftly roaming your fingers over his belt.

“Take your jacket and shirt off, Michael.” It hardly covered him anymore anyway, but his eyes narrowed at your command. You sat back on your heels to look up at him. “Come on. Off with it.” Reluctantly, he undid the buttons and tossed both items away. The sight of his bare torso, stained here and there with flecks of blood, was so very enticing. You leaned forward, placing sloppy and open-mouthed kisses over his chest and down his stomach. The sight of his stomach heaving from your actions made you moan against his skin. His hips bucked into your hands when you cupped him through the material of his pants. 

Teasingly, your fingers slowly caught the waistband of his pants. Your eyes shot up to his when you noticed the absence of anything else underneath. The smirk he gave you was pure mischief, and you licked your lips at the sight of his weeping tip. One of his ringed hands sank into your hair and urged you forward; you allowed it this time. The shape of him was perfect--something humans modelled their toys after. Oh, how eager you were to play. He truly had been crafted to perfection.

The tip of your tongue ran along the pulsing vein of his shaft, and his groan filled you with pride. Flicking your eyes up to his, you noticed that they were closed and his head was tipped back to let his hair cascade over his bare shoulders. The candlelight flickered on his skin and you could spot the beginnings of sweat beading on his chest. A quick flick of your tongue caught the beads of precome that tickled from the head of his cock. The hand in your hair tightened, but you gave him a warning glare with growl. This was not his time to take control.

One hand stroked the length of his shaft and the other gently scratched down his chest. Michael arched into your touch, and you hummed around his tip when your lips encircled him. The groan that fell from his lips was nothing short of obscene and it drove you on. He even sat up more to get a better view of your mouth swallowing down his cock. Your eyes locked with his and you smirked around him. The taste of his heated length alone made you moan. Trick or treat indeed.

Michael’s chest was heaving before you even reached the base. You held there for a moment and then began to bob your head. It was only moments until he bucked his hips upwards, shoving himself deeper down your throat, and tugged your head against his pelvis. Your nose is pressed to his skin and the musky, salty smell invades your senses. A guttural moan tore through the amber-lit room when hollowed your cheek to suck greedily at the head of his cock and your hands pumped the rest of his shaft. The way your core throbbed at the sound told you your body was more than ready to feel him inside of you. You stood without warning, and Michael instantly moved to follow. One of your heels on his chest pushed him harshly back into his chair.

“Stay.” Michael glared at you, but he did not repeat his effort to move. “Good boy,” you cooed. You didn’t miss the way his hands tightened on the arm of the chair. You removed your foot from him and took a step back. With your back to him, you reached back to undo the clasps of your dress. Clearly, he was far too impatient by that point, and a light snap of his fingers finished your work for you before it even began. The clothing covering you both disappeared, but you noticed that he left the vast amounts of jewelry on you, from the tips of your ears down to the gilded manacles on your feet. 

“Let me see you.” The request fell from his lips much softer than you would have expected, and you complied easily. His eyes widened so subtly that you would have missed it had you not been watching him carefully. Azure eyes devoured your appearance. Your breasts were framed by the chandelier necklace hanging over your shoulders and dripping onyx beads down your sternum. Michael’s hands slowly rose, his eyes still roving over your figure. 

"You may touch me," you allowed. At first, he only ran his fingers over the shimmering cuff on your upper arms. Then he trailed down to the broken jeweled shackles on your wrist that matched the pair around your ankles. He gently maneuvered your hands on his shoulder to lure you closer. It placed your chest at the same height as his lips. Greedily, his head leaned forward to take a hardened nipple between his lips. A sigh of relief escaped your own.

Michael continued the slow exploration of his hands. They moved back up your arms, over the collection of diamonds and midnight gemstones dangling across your shoulders, and down your sides to hold your hips. Each fingertip left a trail of raised skin in its wake. The simple touches made you shiver, and you let Michael see this time. His hands curled around your waist to pull you in closer, and you pushed your hands against his shoulders. He released your nipple with a wet “pop” and furrowed his brow.

Your movements were fluid and smooth when you pushed him back into the chair and straddled his hips. His erection stood proudly against his abdomen; you stroked him delicately, careful not to graze the sensitive skin too harshly with your armored fingers, and you returned your lips to his. The pillowly softness was something you had never encountered with your previous lovers. Michael could happily drown you in those full lips, drink you dry, or curse your name and you would beg for more. A combination of your movements gave you the room necessary to line him up with your core. 

Sweet moans accompanied the simultaneous fall of both of your heads towards each other. His breath mingled with yours in the limited space between your lips. For moments the pair of you did nothing but breathe each other in and stroke your noses together in an almost tender fashion.

“Move,” Michael breathed tightly. The flex of his fingers into your hips made you bite your lip. Your lips lifted slowly at first, and then dropped quickly into his lap. “Fuck!” Your head dropped back again with a bark of a laugh. Hearing him curse from one simple movement had you clenching around him instantly. You repeated the motion, his fingers digging into your hips with a fiercer grip, and you moaned loudly. 

Tinkling of your jewelry chimed in time with the steady rolling of your hips over Michael’s. Always one to enjoy an active role in his pleasure, Michael urged you to ride him harder using his hands on your hips. He pulled you down sharply, burying himself inside of you, and returned his mouth to your chest. His teeth caught a taut nipple and tugged. You rewarded him with a cry of ecstasy and carded your hands through his long hair. Every pulse of his cock inside of you stroked your walls with a delicious pressure and pulled you closer to the edge. You didn’t notice how much Michael was controlling your movements until he angled your hips forward on your downward thrust and made you cry out. You tightened around him and increased your pace to bounce off his lap. Soon, the chiming of jewels was drowned out by the clapping of your skin on his and your unified moans of each other’s names.

Michael abandoned your breasts for the time being and turned his attention to the droplet of sweat rolling down between them. His tongue caught the salty droplet, and he licked his way back up to your neck. You shuddered over him and pushed him back against the chair again. Things like that would have this over far sooner than you wanted. The smirk on his devilishly handsome face clued you in to just how pleased he was with himself. He could feel you trembling around him. You ran a jeweled nail over his lower lip and decided to tease him. Your hips rose slowly until only the tip of him remained inside of you. The descent back into his lap went just as methodically. Several times you repeated the motion, swirling your hips once he was fully sheathed inside of you again, and you grinned wickedly at the tortured groans you pulled from him.

He had been so good and so attentive thus far, so you decided to give him a break. He desired it hard and fast, just as you craved it. The chair protested beneath the forceful ricochet of your bodies colliding. You laughed breathlessly at the return of Michael’s lips to your skin. This time, he left open-mouthed kisses over the tops of your breasts and your neck.

Without warning, Michael propelled himself up and out of the chair to slam you down on the desk. His pace never faulted throughout the change of position. The lines of his face were set into a look of determination.

“You’ve had your turn. Now it’s mine,” he hissed in your ear. His hair framed his face and grazed your skin as he loomed over you. Rough hands gripped your thighs and shoved them apart. The first sharp thrust forced the air from your lungs. The sparkle in Michael’s eyes was unmistakable. He was in control now.

He targeted the depths inside of you that had caused you to cry out earlier, and he set a relentless pace. His lips burned across your stomach and chest as he explored every inch of your skin that he could want. Your hands found purchase on his back, the points of your nails sinking into the slick flesh around his shoulderblades. Michael growled and bit into your collarbone with a particularly rough thrust into you.

“Michael!” His name fell from your lips in the most sinful, sensual prayer. He breathed heavily in your ear now, drowning out the deep thudding of your back being drilled into the dark wood of the desk. “Michael…” You could feel his hips beginning to stutter in the bruising pace he had set. It must have felt good for him to be able to let go and not worry about the frailty of a human’s body beneath him. His arms wrapped around your waist to pull you into him again to achieve the depths his mind was screaming for him to reach. 

One bite into the already bruised skin of your neck and a perfectly timed thrust was all it took to send you spiraling over the precipice of pleasure. Your legs latched behind his thighs to lock him against you. Every spasm that rippled your body amplified his pleasure, and you felt Michael spill himself into you with a strangled cry. His warm release inside of you made your head drop back against the desk with a thud. He buried his face into the crook of your neck to ride out the aftershocks of your combined orgasms.

“Happy Halloween, Michael,” you whispered with lips pressed to his ear.

Dampened skin held you together, and you lovingly stroked his hair back out of his face. It had been well worth the visit, you thought with a smile. Feather light kisses in your neck and jaw caught you by surprise. The kiss to your lips was slow, conveying a long-sought satisfaction, and you wrapped your arms around his shoulder. It was an ancient dance, the tangling of tongue and limbs, and usually accompanied by the same heady smell that surrounded you both in that moment. You decided that this was your favorite perfume--the smell of desire and sin, of sweat and carnality, all mixed with the intoxicating scent of Michael.

A gentle tap to his shoulder signalled for Michael to remove himself from you. He did so slowly, carefully, and with a slight grimace. Your back still arched with the sensation. You looked over his lean and picturesque form from your spot on the desk. Yes, you wouldn’t mind if this became a regular occurrence. He dressed languidly--all the time in the world stood waiting for him now. You followed suit when he retrieved your dress. Michael even offered to help with the clasps and buttons at your back. Of course, it wasn’t so simple. He dropped sensually slow and wet kisses over each inch of your spine Bedford doing up the respective button. The resounding boom of clocks striking midnight thundered through the halls. November 1st. Your eyes slipped shut at the returning power thrumming through your veins. It had only been fair to Michael to send you before your powers heightened to their prime. Now you would be able to return home.

“Do you really want to know why I’m here?” you asked over your shoulder. His hands paused in their task.

“It would be in your best interest to tell me the truth.” You rolled your eyes and turned to drape your forearms over his shoulder. His hands instinctively fell to hold your wasit, and it made you smile.

“Your father wished for me to bring you to him.” The expression that crossed his face was precious. Your smile grew at the pure disbelief and childish wonder. Your fingers picked up one long curl and twisted it around your fingers and then let it fall back against his shoulder.

“What?’

“I know! He’s proud of you. He knows how hard this has all been, and he wishes to congratulate you. In person.” You took a few steps towards the door, your hand clutching his and trying to pull him with you, but he was frozen where he stood, eyes unfocused. “Michael, come on!” you laughed softly, “We shouldn’t keep him waiting--not any more than we already have.” He looked to you then and gestured between the two of you.

“So what was this then?” You swayed your hips on your way to the door and twisted the handle with a coy little smile.

“Fun, wasn’t it?” You winked as you opened the door. The deserted halls of Outpost 3 were not on the other side. Michael’s eyes widened at the geysers of molten lava and the long polished bridge of obsidian leading to an ancient palace of equally dark stone set on the far side. “Welcome home, Prince Michael.” His arm slid around your waist while his eyes took in everything new around him.

“Thank you, Asmodeus. I suppose having a friend in the Prince of Lust could have its benefits.”

"Oh yes. Whenever you'd like."

[bumbleberrysky]

alexa, play candyshop (bass boosted) | 01

pairing: gabriel x reader genre: soulmate au, canon divergent around s13, hurt/comfort, humour, future smut (probs) wc: 3.2k rating: sfw warnings: none except the appearance of battered gabriel fresh out of asmodeus’ hold notes: welcome to my first dive into writing for supernatural! i saw someone say that s13 lit a fire under their ass like nothing else and honestly i don’t think i could have described it better. i binged so much while catching up the past few weeks idk who i am anymore

You knew there was a reason some divine power brought you to the Winchesters all those years ago, but to this day you still have no idea what that reason is. It's something you're destined to find out soon though, especially when you return to the bunker after months away and find not only a new face, but one that belongs to someone who up until that point you'd thought was dead. What does his return have to do with the changes you're suddenly experiencing in yourself? Will you finally find out the reason you'd been brought here in the first place? Maybe...

Chuck works in mysterious ways after all.

next.

“Honeys, I’m home!”

The bunker has the same light aroma of musty air and metal as you let yourself in through the heavy front door, feet carrying you, out of habit more than anything, to the steel landing that marks the entrance to the fortress. It’s been so long since you were last here that the two men you used to hunt with regularly have likely forgotten they gave you a spare key. Well, they hadn’t exactly given it to you so much as you’d made a copy on the down-low and kept it for occasions such as this.

One hand keeps pressure on your arm, an attempt to stem the bleeding, and the other carries your single carry-on bag. You make it about halfway down the stairs before your gaze swings out over the foyer and you freeze, mid-step.

Sam and Dean, the two figures you expected to find here, are standing stock-still with their guns half-poised (not directed at you) and expressions on their faces that are a combination of shocked, pissed, and extremely confused (mostly directed at you). Following the line of their weapons leads you to the other two occupants in the room, most definitely unexpected and completely unfamiliar.

One is in rags, cowering, and whimpering, unrecognisable underneath filthy tangled hair that covers his face, and the other is in a prim suit marred only by blood and a bit of dirt, barely a single strand of dark hair atop his head out of place.

“Twinkletoes? What the hell are you doing here?!”

It’s Dean’s stupid, old nickname for you that breaks you out of your shock, a glare already falling onto your face with the practised ease of muscle memory.  

“I’ll answer that when you tell me what the hell I just walked in on—” You come the rest of the way down the stairs, slower and more cautious now, with your gaze trained on the two at the other end of the table. It’s when the man in rags finally looks up from where he had been cowering and you catch a glimpse of his face, bloody and bruised but instantly familiar, that your words swell and catch in your throat.

“… Gabriel?”

The brothers in front of you heave a great, unanimous sigh, a look passed between them telling you that you’re about to be on the receiving end of a very ludicrous and typical Winchester story.

x     x     x

The first time you met Gabriel was not long after you’d gone through the biggest plot twist of your entire life. You’d gone to sleep in your bed, in your home, and woken up in a completely different part of the world, like some magician had snapped their fingers and you’d been the punchline of their very next trick. Much to your regret and distaste, some minor investigation revealed that where you’d woken up in the backseat of a car on the side of the road was in some state in the US. You’d sworn to yourself that you would never step foot here in your entire life and then, like God or whoever reigned above was laughing straight in your face, you’d just up and woken up in some random car in a place that made you long to be literally anywhere else.

Preferably somewhere where the occupants didn’t have such easy access to guns.

…like the two men who screamed and pointed theirs at you when you popped up from their backseat after they climbed into the cabin, fast food in their arms.

That was the first time you’d met the infamous hunting brothers, the Winchesters, and the first time of many you’d nearly died in their company.  

It had taken a while for them to trust you, but after you inviting yourself onto a few of their cases and saving their asses a handful of times (ignoring the amount of times they saved yours because you forgot that almost every American slept with a gun beneath their pillow) they’d eventually taken you under their proverbial wing. It helped that you had literally nowhere else to go and nothing but the clothes on your back and a bare handful of belongings to your name. Once they figured out you weren’t hiding anything up your sleeve and that you’re just naturally annoying and a little dumb, they’d happily invited you to become an official-unofficial part of their little hunting gang. This means you’re also familiar with the hilarious angel they have in their back pocket. Castiel is a riot and one of the things you miss most when you go off to hunt on your own.

Having been around during the whole ordeal of Lucifer and Michael going through the motions of continuing their family spat on an apocalyptic scale, you too grew to be familiar with their youngest brother, the archangel Gabriel. Of course, while you’d been there for a fair amount of the angel-turned-trickster’s shenanigans, you weren’t there for the final appearance he made at a hotel in the middle of butt-fuck nowhere. In complete juxtaposition to the fact that you could count on one hand the amount of times you’d interacted properly with Gabriel, the sensations you experienced at the news of his sacrifice, his death, were unlike anything you’d ever felt before. You like to consider yourself much more emotionally healthy and with an emotional range far larger than that of a teaspoon and the Winchesters’, but that… that news was something that it had taken you months to recover from fully.

And even then, apparently your recovery wasn’t as complete as you’d thought, because hearing what the boys have told you now has made your eyes burn and your stomach turn into a nest of manic bees, your insides lined with flowers and pollen. You think, for a moment, that you just might be sick.

You’re sitting in the library, Gabriel having been taken to a room of his own by one Winchester while the other fills you in before they’re both reunited before you, and you’re in the kind of mood where you sort of want to just sit there and dissociate for a few hours, truthfully. You can tell you’re not going to get that opportunity though, so in the wake of the bombshell they’d just dropped on you about all you’d missed in the past few months—that they had apparently forgotten to tell you over the phone when you checked in occasionally— you do the next best thing you can think of for the moment.

Put it on the backburner, baby.

You massage your temple with your fingers as you lean your head into your hand, a sigh escaping through your nose. “See, this is why it feels like I have been brought on as a babysitter—I leave for a few months and you old men manage to dig up another almost-apocalypse and find and raise Lucifer’s kid?”

“Alright, first of all,” Dean whips out a finger to point at you, filling you with glee. You’ve barely been back a few hours and already you’re stepping back into your favourite “stir-the absolute-shit-out-of-Dean” pants. As always, he is almost pitifully quick to rise to the bait. “Old? Who are you calling old? Alright so maybe we have a few years on you but that’s just because you’re a toddler and w—”

“Dean,” Sam places a placating hand on his brother’s shoulder, a look that seems to be a mixture of amusement and exasperation crossing his features. “You’re making it too easy for her.”

The older Winchester pauses, turning to pin you with an accusing look. You smile, not even attempting to appear innocent. After staring at you for several long moments, Dean makes the ‘eyes-on-you’ gesture with his fingers before turning away, rolling the tension from his shoulders as he takes a seat across from you.

“You were gone for almost a year this time, did you have any luck, well, leaving?” Sam brings your attention back to him, the question dragging out a sigh that feels like it’s been dredged from the very depths of your being.

“No,” you answer, sounding somewhat petulant even to your own ears. “Why is it so hard to leave this god-forsaken country! I hate it here. I’m sick of trying to make a run for it and being zapped back into a swamp, or—or a pool at the top of a penthouse suite in the middle of some random city! It sucks balls.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Dean waves his hand, enjoying the dirty look you give him. “So you still haven’t found whatever purpose you’re meant to fulfil while here?”

You huff, shaking your head. “No. It’s been years and I still have no idea why I woke up here that day. Or why I can’t leave.”

Over the time you’ve spent with the Winchesters, a few things became apparent to the three of you about your stay here. One, it was indefinite. You’d discovered quickly that you are, quite literally, unable to leave. Every time you get close to escaping this country you black out and wake up back inside. Sometimes in a helpful place, sometimes…. Not.

Two, the three of you had thrown around and entertained the idea that maybe you’d been brought here for a reason, that like them maybe you’d been divinely allocated a role to play. But you’ve been through a lot with the Winchesters, whether in person or by association, and still…

You’re no closer to being able to leave and return from whence you came.

You have no idea why you’re here!

This is something that has really contributed to your temporary career as a hunter here. That isn’t to say that this profession isn’t something you were involved in before you came here, but you’ve really… you really dove into it, whether as a distraction or as an ongoing investigation as to what on earth was going to set you free of your tie to this place. A part of you thinks that each case you take on, each person or family you save and creature you slay might be the one reason that brought you here, and the one task that with its completion will grant you freedom. You’ve never been a fan of being caged; just because this one spans a grand total of 9.834 million square kilometres doesn’t make it any less of one.

This most recent expedition that led you to part from the Winchesters for such a long time was another of your failed attempts to leave. You think you’ve tried escaping at every possible point along the coastline and border by now, with a definite lack of success.

“Well, if it really is some divine intervention keeping you here, then it’s better if you just sit back and settle down, twinkletoes.” Dean huffs a laugh, leaning back in his chair with an accompanying creak from the wood. “Those divine types have proven to be… kind of assholes.”

You frown, but he isn’t saying anything you haven’t already thought. It’s part of why you’d settled so easily into hunting here, actually. ‘When in Rome…’, as they say. You’re familiar with the hunting grind and there is comfort in familiarity.

“Are you going to stay a while?” Sam asks, opening the first-aid box he’d first brought over when you’d settled down. Ah, right—you’d almost forgotten about the injury on your arm, despite the fact that you are still pressing a palm to it. You listen as he speaks, almost swearing you can detect a hint of hopefulness in his voice. “You still have a room here for you, of course. We haven’t touched anything inside.”

“Yeah, mostly because we didn’t wanna deal with the mess and the booby-trapped doors—” Dean’s under-the-breath mutter is cut off by your coo, a wide smile pulling your lips.

“Oh, you two missed me, didn’t you?” Instantly, you are successful in ruffling Dean’s feathers— Sam might take a bit more work, though. “I know I really light this dark, dingy place up but I didn’t know it was that bad without me! Ah, perhaps I will stay a while. You know, out of charity.”

“Sammy,” Dean says, beseeching. “It’s not too late—you hold her back and I’ll find her key. It’s not too cold, she’ll be alright outside.”

An appalled and affronted look slips onto your face and Sam has to clear his throat so that he doesn’t laugh and add to his brother’s torment.

“I’m not a misbehaving puppy,” you say, holding your arm out for Sam as he comes over and finally freeing your bloody hand. “Wait, unless you want me to be. Been broadening your horizons beyond animated tentacle porn have you, Deanie-bo-beenie?”

On cue, Dean’s face flushes light red, whether from anger or a brief spritz of embarrassment, only God knows. You can see Sam’s face grow tense from the effort of holding back noise in your peripheral as he tends to your arm.

“You know what? I’m better than this. I’m gonna let it go.” Dean rises from his chair, making a show of dusting off your metaphorical drama. His light eyes flick to you, squinting. “I’m tired; I have a date with my memory foam pillow and nice, warm, feather duvet and a good night’s rest, so goodnight. I hope your bed has bed bugs, twinkletoes, and I hope they bite.”

“I hope you sleep well too, Dean!” you call after him, deciding you’ll have to give him a break from the bullying tomorrow  or else he’ll explode before you can have much fun. “Do you want me to come tuck you in?”

“No! Goodnight!”

His yell and disappearance down the hall is followed a few moments later by the familiar sound of a door slamming shut,

“That’s not very fair of you,” Sam announces, sounding strained and very much like he’s trying not to laugh lest Dean has an ear pressed to his door. “He’s too tired to fight back right now.”

“I know,” you answer, wincing as he wipes down the laceration on your bicep and cleans the blood away with an alcohol wipe. It burns, but it’s definitely not the most painful thing you have ever experienced. “I hadn’t seen you guys in so long, though. I couldn’t help myself.”

Sam simply snorts, reaching for the needle and thread to being stitching the skin back together, and you breathe harshly through your nose as you reach for another topic to distract yourself.

“Are the two—sorry, the three of you actually dads now? To… to Lucifer’s half-angel kid? I thought angels getting frisky with humans was, uh… illegal up in heaven.”

You feel rather than see Sam roll his eyes, your own pointedly directed away from your arm where he has begun to get to work. “It’s Lucifer, y/n, I don’t think he cares about what’s illegal up in heaven.”

You purse your lips—he makes a fair point. Honestly, you feel a little silly for questioning it. “Right, and he’s… trapped in some other dimension? An alternate world where the apocalypse really happened.”

“Yep,” Sam says, hitting a particularly painful spot with his needle. You hiss, giving him a glare.

“I wasn’t even gone a year! Just hearing all this shit is stressing me out so much, dude.” You sigh, attempting to adjust your position in the wooden chair without jostling your arm too much. Thankfully, practice has made Sam quick at his job and already he is almost done piecing you back together. He finishes up with a knot, snipping the thread and then placing a large bandage carefully over the wound. He dusts his hands once done, standing from where he was leaning against the table and proceeding to loom over you like a T-Rex.

“You’re blocking my light, bro,” you inform him, narrowly avoiding a subsequent good-natured smack to your good arm. “Damn, what the hell! Didn’t you take an oath or some shit? I’m your patient!”

“I was studying law, not medicine,” Sam retorts dryly. He turns to leave and put the first aid supplies away, his back facing you but not before you see how his lips twitch. “So your annoying ass is free game.”

“Maybe so,” you acquiesce, rising from your seat with a light grunt as you jostle your arm. You consider asking Sam where Castiel is, to see if you can get a hit of the good stuff and skip the healing process, but think better of it. You always feel a bit bad asking him to heal you, though you barely ever have to since he’s like a rabid mother hen the second he sees blood on any of you. “God, I’m beat. I didn’t think I could get any more tired than I was before, but as always catching up with you two has aged me a few years and now I’m just about as tired as you two are all the time.”

Sam doesn’t rise to the ‘old man’ bait you dangle in front of him—never really does, if you’re being honest; that’s mostly Dean’s vice— but he does offer you a smile that is unexpectedly sincere and fond.

“Go to bed, toddler,” he retorts, before continuing in a softer tone, “… It’s good to see you again, y/n. I’m glad you’re here. Dean and Mom are going out on a hunt in the next few days and I think you can really help with, uh… the whole Gabriel thing.”

For a moment, you don’t say anything. You’d sort of been trying to avoid thinking about the elephant in your mind, for the very same reason that makes your eyes burn once more. It hurts, a lot, thinking and imagining what he must have gone through at the hands of Asmodeus. It feels like your heart is going to tear itself to pieces in your chest from the sheer extent of your empathy and how terrible you feel for him. The Gabriel you saw cowering before you earlier is nothing like the confident feathery asshole you used to know.

Even having only seen him once, it’s enough to make you fearful of the possibility that… he might be too far gone to ever return to that last echo of his previous self.

“I’m not sure what I’ll even be able to do to help,” you respond, approaching the doorway to the hall with your bag in tow. You pause to finish what you’re saying, meeting Sam’s puppy-like gaze from across the room. “But I’ll try. It hurts to see him like that, so… I’ll stay a while, to do whatever I can.”

Sam’s answering thankful smile and nod is all you can ask for in response as you turn and head further into the bunker, dragging your bags back to the room you’d come to call your own over the years. Your gaze strays on the way to one of the doors that has a little note taped on saying, ‘please do not open suddenly or loudly’, undoubtedly the room that they have allocated to Gabriel for the time being. Heart heavy in your chest, you continue on down the hall and tear your gaze away.

You’re not sure how much you can do for him, but you hope you can do something.

next 

[fckinsupreme]

Favors - Fire and Reign!Michael x Reader

Description: You work for Mutt & Jeff at Kineros Robotics. Michael Langdon, the rumored Antichrist, saves you from the constant harassment you face in the workplace. You owe him a favor, and it comes in the form that you least expect.

Word count: 8.3k

Warnings: Oh man, where to begin. Uhhh. Mentions of sexual harassment, unprotected sex, public sex, being recorded, female masturbation, titty fucking, overstimulation, daddy kink, dirty talk, squirting, face slapping, genital slapping (brief), degradation, name calling, humiliation, oral sex (female receiving), it’s basically just fucking filthy, y’all.

A/N: Sorry if anything like this has been done!! Like my last fic, Lesson, I was somewhat inspired to write this after a dream that I had. It was also partly inspired by some anons I’ve been getting, so whoever you are, thank you! I hope y’all like it! 

No copyright infringement intended! Any rights belong to proper shareholders and they deserve the ultimate credit.

If you want to skip straight to the Smut Fest, it begins about halfway through!

Credit to @duncan-shepherd for the gif!

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Working at Kineros Robotics hadn’t been your dream job, but you knew that it would have to do for awhile. Despite the fact that you were a fresh college graduate, the company had miraculously accepted you due to the intern experiences you’d racked up during university. Kineros Robotics wasn’t the type of place you imagined you’d be, however. You always saw yourself in an office-type setting, sitting at a desk all day while typing away on a computer. It wasn’t too far from what you were doing here at Kineros, but it was still a far cry from what you’d typically pictured in your mind.

Every morning, you were tasked with bringing coffee to the two bozos you worked under, Mutt and Jeff, and it was something that always filled you with the worst dread imaginable. Almost immediately after you started your job there, the two would harass you every time you brought them coffee or came in for your next assignment. Not in a teasing, banter-type manner, either; it was completely inappropriate, and made you highly uncomfortable. They would comment about the low-cut tops you would wear, how amazing your legs looked in the skirts that you adored, how your hair looked sexy pulled up into a bun or ponytail. On almost every occasion, they would stare you up and down like you were the most appetizing meal they’d ever seen. It made you feel sick to your stomach, every single time. On multiple occasions, you would dip into one of the bathrooms and cry, wishing that you could pull out and find another job elsewhere. You’d tried to find another opportunity, but there were none; no one else would hire someone with so little job experience. You were stuck here for God knew how long, and you weren’t sure how much more of it you could take.

Until the day he came into the picture.

Michael Langdon had been a mysterious figure. From the moment the two of you met, you knew something was strange about him. It was a vibe he gave off; almost dark, repulsive, evil, but also a bit seductive. You couldn’t find it in yourself to stay away, and would actively seek him out when you could. He had been the most beautiful man you’d ever laid eyes on, and you loved admiring him from afar. The way his perfect blond curls fell around his face, the way his brows furrowed when he was focused on something, the way his long, flawless fingers would turn pages of a file he’d been looking at, all made him appear as though he’d stepped out of a Renaissance painting. You couldn’t deny how you fantasized about him, how you wished he would bend you over his desk and fuck you until you were reduced to a speechless, cum-filled mess. Those thoughts always brought you to orgasm at night, lying in your bed with your vibrator or fingers working desperately between your legs. It always filled you with such shame, the fact that you were getting yourself off to your bosses’ new boss. It was the type of shame that made you feel embarrassed for about five minutes, before you were turned on again and wanted to go for round two, or three, or even four. When it came to Michael, you found that you couldn’t be wholly satisfied.

Rumor had it that he was the Antichrist, and that only added more fuel to your lustful fire. You weren’t sure if you actually believed it or not, but Mutt & Jeff seemed thoroughly convinced that he was. You’d overheard them one day, talking about how Michael had destroyed one of their robotic assistants with seemingly-magical flame. It sounded like a bunch of nonsense to your ears, but stranger things had been known to happen--especially with Michael around. Things had a way of mysteriously disappearing, other objects would appear out of thin air or move on their own, and people had quit without just cause. Maybe all of it was purely coincidental, but your intuition told you that it was somehow Michael’s doing. He was definitely pulling the strings around here now--in more ways than one, it seemed.

The two of you barely spoke to each other, until one day when all of that changed.

You’d taken Mutt and Jeff their usual morning coffee, and you’d been wearing a particularly revealing dress that day. The tight red article with the black shawl hadn’t been the best choice to wear to work, especially where two assholes were trying to get into your pants on a daily basis. You hadn’t worn it for them, though. Hell, you didn’t even wear it for yourself. You wore it for Michael, wanting him to finally take proper notice of you and, by some stroke of luck, manifest your desires into reality. But that plan had seemingly backfired when Mutt and Jeff descended upon you like two dogs to a bone, and you sat the coffee down on one of the desks and began to back toward the exit.

“I have to get to work,”  you said, but neither of them were listening.

“You can stay for a little while,” Jeff said. “You can watch us work on our latest model. It might be helpful.”

“Yeah,” Mutt chimed in. “We kinda based her on you.”

“I really should--” you began, but you’re cut off by a male voice somewhere behind you.

“That’s enough. Leave her alone.”

You knew that voice; it haunted your every fantasy and every dream. Turning slowly, your eyes widened in shock when you saw Michael standing in the entrance. He didn’t look pleased; instead, he looked disgusted and angry. His eyes were fixated upon the two men, and you swore that you could see fire burning in those baby blues. He finally looked at you, making a come-hither motion with his finger before turning his gaze back to Mutt and Jeff. You scrambled toward him, and he pushed you behind his back in a protective manner. You weren’t sure why, but that very gesture sent a shot of arousal directly between your legs. Your thighs pressed together in a subtle manner, trying to alleviate the dull throb that was settling in your core.

“Don’t ever do that again,” he warned, his tone venomous as he shifted his gaze between the two. “I mean it. You’ll be sorry if I ever witness or hear of it. Do you remember that little robot girlfriend of yours that I destroyed when you first met me? That will be your fate if you continue to act like a couple of assholes.”

Ah, so he did set fire to one of their models. That was all the confirmation you needed to hear on the Antichrist front, and you had to admit to yourself that it was hot. You weren’t quite sure why that was so exciting to you; maybe it was the taboo of it all, maybe it was the fact that evil, or seemingly evil, beings were sexy as hell. All you knew was that you couldn’t take your eyes off of Michael, noticing how even the back of his head was gorgeous. What you wouldn’t give to run your fingers through that perfect head of curls, to tug on them, to feel them tickling your inner thighs as he ate you out…

No. Now was not the time, nor the place, for that type of thinking.

You smiled behind him, the lower half of your face concealed by his shoulder as you observe the other two men. They’re stunned, so much that they can’t even form a proper sentence. They gape at Michael, then at you, before falling completely silent and going back to work in embarrassment. Michael continued to stare them down until he was certain that they got the message, turning to face you with a hard expression. Then, he took you roughly by the arm and practically dragged you from the room.

“What are you doing?” you questioned, your (e/c) eyes trained upon that beautifully chiseled face. “I could have handled that myself.”

He barked a laugh, eyes narrowed slightly as he pulled you against his strong chest. You can’t help but wonder what he’s doing, or why he’s doing it, but then you feel his mouth at your ear. His breath tickles you, and you have to suppress the shudder that’s threatening to ripple down your spine. His teeth tugged your earlobe between his teeth, and you let out a soft, barely audible whine.

“I know exactly what you’re thinking,” he whispered in your ear, his massive hands perched upon your waist. “You’re aroused by what I just did. I’m not surprised; after all, don’t you think of me at night, when you’re all alone in your bed? Touching yourself under your blankets like a common little whore. Isn’t that right, Y/N?”

You were frozen and absolutely speechless. How did he know about that? Was he spying on you? No, that wasn’t it, and you damn well knew it. He was the Antichrist; you were more than aware of that little fact now. Somehow, being the way he was, he could pick up on your innermost desires and your secrets. You knew that lying wasn’t going to get you anywhere, especially when the truth was glaring him in the face. However, you weren’t going to give him the satisfaction of knowing he was right. You were going to deny it until you were blue in the face, if it meant protecting your precious ego.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you said, trying to squirm out of his grasp.

His grip tightened on you, and you swore that you could feel his semi-hard cock pressing against your thigh. “I think you do,” he replied. “I know I’m not crazy, Y/N; I can smell your pussy from here. It’s hot for me, and we both know it. Denial will get you nowhere; acceptance will get that needy little pussy railed until you can’t walk straight for a fucking month.”

Your lips had parted, and you resisted the urge to moan aloud. “You just saved me from two harassers back there,” you said, surprising yourself with how level your voice had been. “What do you think you’re doing right now? Isn’t that the definition of sexual harassment?”

Michael hummed for a moment, then released his hold on you. “Have it your way,” he said with a shrug of his shoulders. “Maybe I was going to fulfill your desires, but since you don’t want me to…”

You whined at the loss of contact, and this brought a smug grin from Michael. “I still don’t know what you mean,” you murmured.

“As I said,” Michael said, tucking his hands behind his back. “Have it your way. You’re welcome for what I did back there, by the way.”

You groaned as you watched him walking away, wondering if you really did just let a good opportunity slip through the cracks. It wouldn’t take long for another one to crop up, however.

***

Three days later, you were trying to adapt to your changed environment at the lab. Mutt and Jeff had finally stopped badgering you, but one of the other women at the facility, Ms. Venable, was still riding your ass about anything she could think of. You hadn’t really noticed how much of a bitch she was toward you before, because you’d been too preoccupied with Mutt & Jeff’s harassment. But now, since they’d started being more respectful toward you, Venable took it upon herself to pick up the slack. Michael had been ignoring you for the most part, since that encounter after he remedied your Mutt & Jeff problem, and you wished he could help you with Venable as well. What you wouldn’t give to watch him put her in her place, to make her submit and ease her mistreatment of you. You knew he was more than capable of it now; you just needed him to catch her in the act, as he did days earlier with the two coked-out idiots.

On that third day, Venable had purposefully knocked her coffee onto the floor, and then blamed you for it as you moved from her desk. You knew that you hadn’t spilled it; for some reason, she’d always had it out for you, and this only proved it even more. You wondered if she was jealous of you, but you couldn’t figure out a reason why. All you knew was that you’d had enough, and you weren’t about to take anymore of her shit--or anyone else’s. Fuck this job, fuck the entire climate in this place, fuck it all. You were done with being treated like either a piece of meat or a doormat, or like you were less than anyone else who worked there. You picked up the now-empty coffee cup and angrily threw it at Venable, which resulted in her shouting in surprise before turning on you with an equally-enraged look in her eyes.

“Wilhemenia,” came Michael’s voice, and your heart began to leap in your chest as you breathed in relief. “You’re being a bad, bad girl.”

Michael strided over to you, giving you a knowing look before his blazing eyes trained upon the other woman. Venable looked horrified by Michael’s presence, and you had to bite back a laugh at her obvious fear. Good; it served her fucking right, always treating you like you were nothing but a mere, incompetent child. Michael took two steps forward, leaning over Venable’s desk so that their noses were practically touching. You could tell, even from where you were standing, that he meant business, and Venable was already trembling in sheer terror.

“Let’s get one thing straight,” Michael practically snarled. “You don’t treat her like she’s nothing but dog shit on the bottom of your fucking shoe. You should be grateful that you have such an obedient little bitch working here, yet you’re acting as though you’re the queen around here. I have news for you: You’re actually not. You don’t run things around here, nor are you her boss. Technically, both of those positions fall to me.”

“But she’s--” Venable began, and Michael silenced her by holding up a hand.

“Enough,” he hissed. “You heard me. She technically works for Mutt & Jeff, not for you. They work for me, which makes me her boss as well. If you don’t want to fall in line of your own accord, Ms. Venable, I’ll make sure that you do. Do we understand each other?”

She nodded frantically, and Michael bounced back with a grin. He pointed at you, then looked back at the shaking redhead at the desk. “Apologize.”

“I-I’m sorry, Miss Y/L/N,” she said, wringing her hands anxiously. “I-It won’t happen again.”

“Make sure that it doesn’t,” you said courageously. “Ever again.”

Michael, now satisfied, moved away from the desk and made his way to you. He took your hand and started guiding you from the area, and you shoot a look over your shoulder at Venable. She was watching the two of you with a stunned expression, and you couldn’t help but feel joyous over what Michael had said to her. Hopefully, that would be the end of her abuse, and you could finally enjoy the peace you were desperately seeking. Michael kept walking until you were both out of sight & earshot, pushing you against the nearest wall in desperation once he was certain the coast was clear.

“You look so good today,” he said, his eyes trailing down to your visible cleavage in the low-cut black top you’d chosen to wear that day. “I could just ravish you against this fucking wall right now.”

A violent shiver cascaded your spine, and you grabbed the back of his neck with a soft whine. You wanted him closer to you, wanted him to take you and make every single fantasy come true right there in the hallway. He started indulging you, his lips finding your neck as your head tilted to the side for better access. He located the sensitive spot on your skin, nipping at it for a moment before sucking harshly. A moan fell from your lips, and you had to bite the lower one to keep yourself quiet. Your hand plunged into his silky hair, twisting your fingers as his lips trailed to your cleavage. His mouth explored every inch of exposed skin, and you felt your panties pooling with even more desire for him.

“Y/N,” he purred, biting the top of one of your breasts. You could feel him smiling against you, and you wondered what he was thinking. “It’s time to get back to work.”

There it was.

He let go of you, adjusting your shirt with the smuggest grin you’ve ever seen on another person. You stared at him, shocked and almost disappointed, as he drew you against him. There was no mistaking it this time; he was hard, and you could feel it bumping your leg. Another throb coursed through your core, and you whimpered needfully. Michael clicked his tongue and then, without warning, he grabbed hold of your pussy and began rubbing it through your pants.

“Tonight,” he whispered as you mewled delightfully, rutting against him for more friction. He let go after a minute, a smile plastered to his full lips. “Stay after closing. Meet me in Venable’s area. Don’t even think about leaving, or not meeting me there as soon as we close. You will be sorry if you disobey. Think of it as owing me a favor, for all I’ve done to help you.”

****

You couldn’t stop thinking about Michael for the remainder of the day. Work had been hell, because you were unable to focus and had to keep starting over on every task. Your mind would always wander to the last thing he’d said to you, and you were curious as to what he meant. Why did he want to meet you where Venable worked? You’d hoped that he was finally going to fuck you, but why would he ask to meet you there, if that was the case? Why not ask to go home with him, or meet him elsewhere outside of the workplace? Unless--

No. That thought was too dirty and too shameful to even entertain.

You counted down the hours until closing, and practically bolted to Venable’s area once everyone else had cleared out. You were surprised to see Michael already waiting with his back to you, and you couldn’t help but feel a brief moment of horror. What if he thought you weren’t coming? Wasn’t he a little early? Was he already planning a punishment for you, because you were a few minutes late? You shook those dreadful thoughts from your head before cleaning your throat, announcing yourself to him. He turned at once, a grin on his lips as he motioned for you to come closer.

“Y/N,” he said. “I was beginning to think you’d left and disobeyed my orders.”

“Sorry,” you murmured, depositing your purse and laptop bag on the floor before making your way to him. “I didn’t think you’d be here yet.”

“I said at closing,” he replied simply, his hands finding your waist as he licked his lips. “Mmm. Such a good girl, following my commands.”

You fought back a whimper, your eyes trained upon his as your lips open. His praise caused your stomach to tighten in arousal, that familiar ache pulsating throughout your entire lower half. “O-Of course I did. You’re my boss, aren’t you?”

“That’s correct,” Michael said, his tone even as his eyes scanned over your cleavage. He nodded toward your chest, drawing back with a calm smile. “Take off your shirt.”

Your brows shot up in surprise, and you blinked rapidly at him. Did you just hear him correctly? Why on Earth would he want you to take off your shirt, in sight of the security camera in the room? You knew he could get into trouble for just touching you as he did, but then you remember who he is. Of course there wouldn’t be consequences for him; how could there be, when he was the Antichrist? He could get away with anything, and you weren’t sure if that thought pissed you off, or turned you on even more.

“Excuse me?” you managed.

“Take off your shirt,” he repeated. “I won’t ask you again. Consider this part one of the favor you owe me.”

You didn’t like the sound of his voice as he uttered those last words. His tone was absolutely lethal, and you know better than to not follow through. Besides, you really wanted to do it, and who were you to deny what you both desired? You grabbed the ends of your black top, pulling it over your head and discarding it to the floor. Your black, lacy bra was revealed to him, your hardening nipples poking through the thin fabric. Michael noticed right away, closing the space between the two of you as he rubbed one between his fingers. You moaned, arching slightly and pressing your thighs together to quell the worsening ache between your legs.

“Naughty girl,” he chided, grabbing one of your bra straps and snapping it against your skin. You yelped in surprise, your hips rolling upward in response. “You wore this for me, didn’t you? You didn’t wear it for those two coke-head assholes; you wore it all for me.”

You could only nod, not caring anymore about your pride. He was right, and you were both more than aware of it. Of course you hadn’t worn it for Mutt or Jeff; you disliked them with every fiber of your being. Something told you that Michael was actually jealous of them, and you felt dizzy with arousal at the very thought. Your breath hitched, his large hands making their way to your back as you anticipated his next move. He caressed the skin there, causing you to gasp at the sensation, before he unhooked your bra. You looked at him, eyes on his as he pulled the bra from your arms and threw it aside.

“Perfect,” he murmured as he studied your bare breasts, his hands beginning to toy with them. “Do you know what I’d like to do to them?”

“Suck on them?” you asked, a (b/c) brow raised. “That’s what most men like, anyway.”

His jaw was hard-set as you spoke, and you shivered under his gaze. “No. While that idea is very nice and very tempting, I had something else in mind.”

He jerked a thumb toward Venable’s desk, and you studied him in confusion. He repeated the gesture, and you wondered what he was wanting you to do. It took a moment for it to click, and your eyes widened in shock as you shook your head quickly. Your earlier thought, the one that you wouldn’t dare think about, was actually on its way to coming true. “No. Michael, there are cameras in here.”

“So?” he asked, tweaking your nipples between his fingers as you gasped in pleasurable surprise. “Who cares?”

“I care!” you cried. “I could lose my job, if someone sees.”

“You won’t,” he assured. “If they try, I’ll reduce them to a pile of ash. Do you really want to disobey me, princess? You know what happens to people who don’t do as I ask. So, get up on her desk and lie flat on your back. Do it now, and maybe I won’t punish you severely for your disobedience.”

You scrambled toward the desk without another word, clearing off some of the items for more room. Michael unzipped his black pants, letting them pool around his ankles before stepping out of them and kicking them aside. You noticed that he was already hard, the outline of his erection straining against his silk boxers. He yanked them down to join his pants, and you felt your pussy clenching at the mere sight of his exposed cock. He was massive, bigger than any man you’d ever been with in the past. He was thick, long, veiny, and perfectly constructed;. you could see no flaw whatsoever. It occurred to you, in that very moment, that Michael Langdon was a truly perfect being, a true dark angel sent to Earth from Heaven--or was it Hell, in this case?

“Michael,” you breathed. “Fuck.”

He was smug, grinning at you before climbing onto the desk. He straddled your torso, and you knew straight away what his plan was for you. You felt your cunt pulsating with want, and the sudden urge to start touching yourself was as strong as it had been all day. You didn’t touch yourself, however; you wouldn’t dare at this point. Instead, you salivated as you studied his dick, bobbing obscenely as he positioned himself into a proper, comfortable position on his knees. His cock was in front of you now, lined up with your breasts as he planted himself firmly on both hands. He placed his cock between your breasts once he was settled, the heavy weight of it against your sternum causing you to moan with need.

“I want you to push your tits together for me,” he instructed. “Both hands, and keep hold of them until I say otherwise. Understand?”

You nodded, and did as you were told without a moment’s hesitation. Your hands smashed your breasts against his cock, which elicited a loud, pleasurable groan from Michael. It had been a long time since you’d allowed a man to fuck your tits, and none of them had ever come close in size or ability to Michael; you already knew that to be true. You watched hungrily as he started thrusting, the sensation of his large cock between your sensitive breasts causing you to moan delightfully. You tilted your head back to look at him, admiring how beautiful he was with his face twisted in ecstasy and golden hair spilling into his eyes. He looked like an angel, one that strived for living as sinfully as possible. After all, who else would look as ravishing while committing sin? Only the Antichrist, that was who.

“Do you know how long I’ve wanted to do this?” he questioned. “How long I’ve desired fucking these perfect tits? It’s all I could think about from the moment I met you. Remember that tight little tank top you wore on the day we met? Your tits were practically spilling out of it. Do you know what I did, right after we spoke? I went into my office and jerked off to the thought of sticking my cock between them.”

You whined at his words, arching your back as his thrusts became jerkier and more sloppy. You wondered how much longer he was going to last, and you wrapped your hand around the base of his cock as a test. You started jerking him off in time with his thrusts, wondering if he would retaliate or berate you for doing something without his permission. He stopped at once, shifting so that he was hovering over you. He reached down, slapping your face and grabbing your throat, his eyes fiery and dangerous.

“No,” he hissed. “Don’t do anything without my permission. If you listen and be a good little girl, you’ll get a reward after I cum. If you don’t? Then you can walk out of here with nothing in return.”

A loud, drawn-out whine fell from your lips, but it soon turned into a moan as you he let go of your throat and moved back into position. You pushed your tits together again once he laid his cock between them, feeling him twitch almost immediately. You used your thumb and forefinger on each hand, rubbing your nipples as you kept a strong hold on your breasts. He began moving at a faster pace, and it didn’t take long before he was cumming all over your chest with an appreciative groan. Some of it splashed onto your throat and into your hair, but you weren’t paying any mind at that point. That was the hottest thing you’d experienced in quite awhile, and you weren’t about to complain. You relaxed against the desktop, panting along with Michael, his fingers gathering some of his seed and holding it to your lips.

“Taste,” he ordered. “I want you to taste what you did to me.”

You didn’t hesitate, grabbing his wrist and sucking the cum from his fingers. He tasted so good, surprisingly sweet, and you mewled gratefully around him. Your eyes slipped closed, tongue swirling innocently around his fingertips. You slowly open your eyes to look at him after a few seconds, reveling in how lust-filled his oceanic hues were. They were completely fixated on you, and you hollowed your cheeks for a moment before deep-throating his fingers. You gagged teasingly, moaning as he growled in response. He couldn’t take it anymore, and pulled his fingers from your mouth while you whined in protest.

Still wanting more of his cum, your fingers collect more of it from your upper chest and draw them toward your mouth. He forcefully grabs your wrist and redirects it to his own lips, gripping tightly as he does so. You watched in awe as he removed his own essence from his fingers, and it caused another bolt of arousal to shoot to your already-aching pussy. You were more than aware of how wet you were at this point, but you were too far gone in your desire to care.

“You’ll get your reward a little later,” he said, sitting back and getting off of the desk. He dragged Venable’s chair so that it was right in front of you, plopping down and gesturing toward your clothed lower-half. “Take off your pants and your underwear. We’re about to enter phase two of your favor.”

You sit up, legs shaking in need as you tug off your pants and your lace, cheeky panties. Michael took the underwear, completely soaked through by then, and pocketed them with a smirk. You didn’t question what he was doing; instead, you exposed your dripping cunt to him, feeling a bit humiliated over how wet you truly were. You were leaking onto Venable’s desk, and the thought made you feel so deplorable. It also wasn’t helping that the security camera had been trained on the two of you the entire time, and you felt both filthy and oddly horny over the thought of someone seeing this at some point. It was almost embarrassing, but Michael was feeding off of it; you didn’t have to be a mind reader to know that. It was written all over his body language, over how he was presenting himself to you while knowing that you were possibly being watched, either now or later. He was a fucking asshole, but you wouldn’t have it any other way; you were just as turned on by it as he was, after all.

“Show me,” Michael said, crossing his legs as he settled further into the chair.

“Show you what?” you asked, sitting up on your elbows to get a better look at him.

“Show me how you touch yourself when you’re all alone,” he replied, arms perched upon the rests on either side of the seat. “I want to see how you get yourself off to me.”

You swallowed, feeling very nervous all of a sudden. You didn’t know why; after all, this was a man whose cum was drying on your skin and in your hair, and one that you’d craved since you met him. There was a thought in the back of your mind, one that kept nagging at you about his preferences. What if he didn’t like how you touched yourself? What if that made him unhappy? Then again, maybe he would show you how to do it properly, if that was the case. You didn’t have much time for hesitation; if you did, he would surely get angry and you would mostly definitely be in for a whole world of regret.

Pushing the negative thinking from your mind, you decided to get down to business. One of your hands slowly trailed down your body, wanting to add to his growing anticipation. He examined you, eyes devouring your every single move as your fingers edged closer to your soaking cunt. You spread your legs a bit further apart, wanting him to see all of you as your fingers finally land on your core. Your digits ghost over the outer lips, hissing softly as you felt the slippery wetness that had accumulated there. You looked at him, his eyes glued to your cunt as he growled impatiently.

“No teasing,” he demanded. “I know that isn’t how you do it. You always dive right in, because you’re too fucking horny for me to have any sense of build up. Go on. Make Daddy proud and show him how you do it.”

Nodding slowly, your fingers traveled from your outer labia, to your entrance, and finally, to your clit. You sucked in a harsh breath, exhaling shakily as you start rubbing the small bundle of nerves. Your back arched, and you can hear Michael’s breathing begin to pick up as your fingers circle the area around your clit. You moaned filthily, your free hand playing with one of your breasts as you squeeze the nipple. Michael sat forward in the chair, wanting to see everything you were doing to yourself because of him. You were more than aware of his new position, and you smirked to yourself as you squirmed needfully. Your fingers massaged the inner lips of your pussy, more wetness oozing out of you and onto the desk below. Your eyes squeezed shut, head tipping back as more dirty sounds fill the air around the two of you.

“Show me,” he rasped. “Show me what else you do. I know this isn’t everything, you little cumdoll.”

Your (e/c) eyes snapped open at the derogatory nickname, taking in the marvelous sight of him before you. He was still settled into the chair, licking his lips as he watched your fingers moving over your slick folds. You continued working your lips open before pushing a finger inside of yourself. You cried out, your free hand moving from your breast to grip at the hard, smooth surface of the desk. You made a fist, trying to grab anything below you for leverage, knuckles blotched white as you shoved your finger in to the last knuckle. Michael’s breathing began to hitch, a growl-like “fuck” falling past his perfect, plump lips.

“You’re so wet,” he commented, towing the chair a bit closer and meeting your eyes as you pump your finger in and out. “Listen to that. Do you hear how disgusting and obscene that sounds? You’re such a dirty girl, aren’t you? Dirty for me, and only me.”

The squelching, filthy, downright sinful sounds of you finger-fucking yourself had been hard to ignore. Michael pointing it out had only humiliated you further, but it added fuel to your burning arousal for him as well. It also tightened that coil in your stomach, the one that had been threatening to break free all day, and you aren’t sure how long you’d be able to keep this up. You were dangerously close, your body writhing and bucking instinctively with every touch and every sensation of your own hand. Your thumb began playing with your clit, and you could feel Michael’s gaze practically burning a hole in you now.

“Say my name,” he demanded. “Add another finger. Come on, I fucking know that you can do better than this. Show. Me.”

You complied at once, inserting a second finger inside of yourself and moaning at the pornographic sound it made. “Michael,” you mewled. “Mmm...Daddy…”

“That’s a good girl,” he said. “Keep it up. Fuck yourself on those pretty fingers for me. I want you to make yourself cum thinking about me, just like you do every single night. Don’t you dare hold back; do it exactly as you do when you’re at home and your sinful little thoughts turn to me.”

Your stomach coiled even further, and you can feel it preparing to snap. You pressed a third finger inside, despite not having permission, but Michael didn’t seem to mind. He was enjoying this, watching you work yourself to orgasm because of him and only him. You pumped and curled your fingers, rubbing that sweet spot inside of you as your thumb worked relentlessly against your clit. You brought your other hand back to your breast, rubbing the nipple as hard as you can manage while continuing to play with your pussy. You squirmed in delight, pinching and pulling the sensitive nub as Michael snarled in response.

“Cum,” he hissed. “Do it. Show me the mess you can make.”

Those words, coupled with everything you were doing to yourself, sent you into complete overload. You came forcefully, screaming his name and gushing all over the desk’s surface. Your body vaulted and convulsed, legs shaking violently and eyes closed as you fucked yourself through your orgasm. Your body was a tremor, your moans hoarse and full of nothing but euphoria as you rode out your high. You were breathless, breathing heavily as you withdrew your fingers from your pussy. Michael stood from where he was seated, grabbing your saturated, sticky fingers and holding them to his lips. He placed all three of them inside of his mouth, moaning vehemently as he took in your taste.

“All mine,” he said once he removed them, kneeling in front of your still-open legs. “This pussy, this ass, those tits, this body...all of it is mine now. Those two nerds think they have some kind of weird claim to you, even though you never gave them the light of day? If they could see you now. If only they could see what a shameless, needy little cockslut that you’re being for me. They wouldn’t know what to think, would they? You’re all mine. ALL mine.”

You didn’t argue. Mostly because you knew there was no point, and also because you were too blissed out to even speak. He gripped your thighs, pressing open-mouthed kisses over the insides before leaving a few hickeys in his wake. Teeth sink into your lower lip, taking in how utterly breathtaking he was in that position. More wetness spreads through your core, mostly from the excitement of what’s to come but also partly due to how focused he is on making you feel good. You reached down, one hand winding in his soft hair as he worked from the top of your thighs to the groin on each side. He hooked your legs over his shoulders, bringing your pussy closer to his face as he hummed in appreciation.

“So wet,” he pointed out again, licking over the outside of your cunt as his eyes bore into yours. “Mmm, it tastes much better from the source. It’s as sweet as nectar, did you know that? Tell me who you belong to, whore. Tell me who owns this beautiful fucking pussy.”

“You do,” you whimpered. “Please, Michael. It’s really sensitive--”

“Don’t whine,” he barked. “Take what I give you, or do without. You should be thankful that I’m even doing this at all, you fucking brat. This is your reward for being so obedient earlier, as well as part three of your favor; don’t make me regret it.”

You fell back against the desk, not willing to protest anymore. Michael wasted absolutely no time, delving deeply into your pussy and devouring you like you were the first meal he’d had after a long illness. Your hips bucked slightly, pulling his hair as he pushed all of the right buttons with his skilled tongue. Your body was still shaking from your last orgasm and that, coupled with him exploring your sensitive, overstimulated cunt, felt almost too good to bear. You desperately crave more of him, and you spread your legs as wide as they will go to allow him better access.

“Michael,” you moaned, nails digging into his scalp as he pressed his tongue inside of you. “Oh, fuck--”

“So fucking good,” he said, icy blue hues on your face as he gripped your thighs tightly enough to bruise. You were certain that there would be fingertip-shaped marks there tomorrow, and the thought only excited you more. “Such a sweet little princess pussy you have, pet. Tell me, are you Daddy’s good little whore? After all, who else would wet their panties and dress like a common slut, if not to please me? Say it. Say, ‘I’m your good little whore.’”

“I’m your good little whore,” you repeated, your free hand flying down to join the other in his blond curls. “Please, Michael.”

“Please what?” he questioned, pulling your clit between his lips and giving it a hard suck. He pinned your hips down, holding you against the desk at his mercy, your body beginning to tremble with desire. “What do you want from me, princess?”

“Fuck!” you nearly screamed, attempting to push your hips further into his face for more. “Please don’t stop. I’m begging, please don’t stop what you’re doing. I’ll do anything for you to keep going.”

“I don’t plan on stopping until you cum for me again,” he stated, fingers pushing your lips open as far as he can manage. His tongue explored the areas now exposed to him, areas that you weren’t even sure you had before. You pulled a fistful of his hair so forcefully that it brought him back to your clit, and kitten-licked it for a moment before resuming his earlier actions. “You hot fucking bitch. Are you going to make a mess on Daddy’s face? All over that cunt Venable’s desk?”

You nodded rapidly, your (e/c) eyes meeting his cool baby blues as he ate your pussy like it was the last time he’d ever get the luxury. He pulled your inner labia between his lips, sucking generously before finding your clit again. He sucked as hard as he could, and you knew that he was just coaxing another orgasm out of you. It was his silent permission, his plea, and you didn’t need to be told twice. You cried out his name repeatedly, like a prayer, squirting all over his face as your second climax hit. It rocked your whole body, your eyes rolling back as your nails tore at his scalp and pornographic noises spilled from your mouth. Your fingers ripped some small strands of his hair out, and it was enough to make him groan filthily against your overcharged pussy.

“That’s my good girl,” he cooed as the aftershocks washed over you, his tongue licking up any excess cum on your skin. “You did so well, making a mess like I asked.”

A dazed grin painted your features, and he released his hold on your hips. You whined from the loss of contact as he stood, watching through the haze of ecstasy as he discarded the remainder of his clothing. He was hard again, his cock bobbing with every movement he made. He climbed on top of you, throwing your legs over his waist and rubbing his erection against your super-sensitive clit. You tried to push away from him, but his iron grip held you firmly in place as he shook his head.

“Michael,” you groaned. “No more. I can’t--”

He reached between the two of you, slapping your pussy as harshly as he could muster. The wet cracking sound, coupled with the pain, caused you to cry out in a mixed moan. Michael smirked, completely satisfied with what he’d just done. “You can, and you will. Besides, I think you’re just dying for my thick cock inside of that needy cunt. I know you are; after all, why else would you fuck yourself on your fingers, if not for the fact that you want me to fuck you?”

You could only nod, knowing how correct he was and being too tired and too horny to fight it. Your legs tightened around his waist, and he took that as a sign to plunge inside of you. Your nails dug into his back, head falling against the desk in your filthiest moan yet. You could feel the stinging burn as he stretched your walls, clenching instinctively as you tried to adjust to his massive girth. He was moaning in your ear, pushing himself deeper until he was in to the hilt. You gazed up at him, your eyes heavily lidded before you looked toward the camera in the corner. You wondered if someone would come for both of you, but you dared them to try. Michael would burn them to a crisp before they even opened their damn mouths, and you knew it. But not before he gave them all an even bigger show, fucking you so hard into the desk that it collapsed under the momentum. Now, you almost wished someone would come in and bust you, if that was the scenario that would happen.

“Michael,” you sighed pleasurably. “Please.”

“Mmm, what do you need, pet?” he asked. “Tell Daddy what you want.”

“Fuck me,” you pleaded. “Thrust, move, just please. Please fuck me.”

“You want me to pound that slutty pussy?” he drawled, pulling out almost completely before slamming back inside of you with a strangled mewl. “Is that what you want?”

“Yes!” you cried, gripping his back in an attempt to draw him closer against you. “Michael!”

He chuckled, beginning to slowly fuck into you. You hummed, rutting against him impatiently, but one stern look from him made you stop. It didn’t take long for him to build a rhythm, gradually increasing in speed with each thrust. You wiggled beneath him, one hand in his hair as the other remained on the back of his shoulder, and he shuddered pleasurably at the contact. He soon found a quick, rough pace, the sounds of sex filling the room as your skin slapped together. You yanked at his hair, brushing some of it from his eyes as he peered at you. He pressed his lips to yours in a sudden kiss, and it didn’t take long for it to turn hot, messy, and downright filthy.  You could taste yourself on his tongue, and you drew him closer as your tongue pushed deeper inside of his mouth. He responded by pulling your lower lip between his teeth, biting so hard that a small bead of blood formed. He simply licked it away, thrusting so vigorously inside of you that you became worried about sliding off of the desk altogether.

“Michael,” you sighed against his lips.

“Fucking whore,” he replied, pulling back from the kiss. A string of saliva connected your lips to his, but neither of you did anything about it. You let it break on its own, and Michael’s movements became sloppier as he twitched inside of you. “Do you want Daddy to fill up this filthy pussy? Do you want to go home with my cum leaking out of you? As shameless as you are, I wouldn’t be fucking surprised.”

“Yes,” you said. “Please, I want it all. I want you to cum inside of me and make me an even bigger mess than I already am. Please, Daddy.”

“So depraved,” he panted, reaching underneath you to prop your hips up a bit more. “What a depraved little cunt you are.”

The new angle allowed him to hit directly into your G-spot, and you swore that you could see stars bursting over your vision. You clenched around him, the tightness in your stomach building and building until it finally exploded. You were cumming for the third time, your liquid coating his cock in fresh wetness as you moaned his name. Your nails scratched down his back, drawing blood, while your free hand yanked at his hair again. He watched as you unraveled on his cock, and the sight of it sent him to his own orgasm. He came deeply inside of you, painting your walls in his thick, sticky seed, collapsing on top of you as he tried to collect himself. He pulled out, and you felt his cum leaking out of you and onto the desktop.

“Fucking hell,” you said, chest heaving and a dazed grin on your face. “That was...wow.”

“I know,” he says smugly, sitting up and admiring his work. “Look at that. You’re oozing all over her workspace.”

“I should clean that up,” you said, sitting up and swinging your legs over the edge of the desk.

“No,” Michael said. “Don’t. Leave it. I want her to see exactly what happens when you fuck with me, or with you. Maybe this will teach that uppity, queen-bee bitch a lesson on who she fucking works for and what happens when you act like you’re in charge.”

You shivered at the thought, and a smirk tilts your lips upward as you stood to retrieve your clothes. “Yeah, and maybe the security guards will show her the tape, too. Just so she can see what actually went on in here.”

“I’ll make sure that she does, trust me,” Michael stated, following suit and grabbing his own clothing from the floor. “Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

“I want you in my office, first thing tomorrow morning. I think I need you to show me a few more things that we didn’t get to cover tonight.”

You hooked your bra back on, adjusting it accordingly before pulling your shirt over your chest. “Like what?”

He sauntered over to you, fingers ghosting over the dried cum on your chest with a thoughtful grin. “I want you to show me how far you can take my cock down that perfect little throat of yours. Maybe, if you do it to my liking, I’ll let you ride me. You’ll get a chance to show me just how good of a cockwhore you truly fucking are.”

________

Taglist! (if you want to be added in the future, let me know!)

@littledemondani, @diamcndscarred, @svjourn, @icylangdon, @queencocoakimmie, @codyswhore, @sebastianshoe, @rocketgirl2410, @hisgirlwonder, @lokixadcmxaddict, @sherlocklaufeyson, @disa, @hxdesworld, @w0nder-marie, @hplotrfan, @holylangdon, @losers-club6, @langdonsdemon, @melodylangdon, @idespac, @femaleantichrist, @kiiteiru, @chaoticevillangdon, @lotsofhunny, @dcvilrising, @maso-xchrist, @lvnabanana, @femaleantichrist