#michael landgon

[kaetastic]

TREAT

pairing: Soft!Michael X Mommy Kink!Reader

summary: After punishing Michael, you decided to help him to ease the pain.

word count: 972

warning: Mommy Kink, Ass appreciation, Fluff+Angst ??

note: I don’t feel smutty lately so there ain’t no smut. I guess this is a continuation to Good Boy but it’s whateva :D

Michael shivered, streams of salt-filled tears flowing down his cheeks to land on the stuffed toy he found comfort in. Shrugging his shoulders, the duvet followed- resting on the side of his neck. The blaring cold air did not help him ease the aching and sore pain that zapped through his cheeks, if only- it made him more conscious of every action he made. The only movements he acted out was his chest that was heaving up and down (quite rapidly as he was a crying mess), his fingers twitching and the clenching around the stuffed elephant; all restricted to avoiding more pain that sored in his cheeks. A breathless sob escaped his lips when his legs throbbed, cheeks aching.

His bare body only covered by the simple white duvet, his head stuffed in the elephant as it absorbs all his tears. In a curled position, he was protected as the duvet rose up to cover his possibly bloodshot eyes- exposed area for him to be able to breathe properly.

“Baby boy?” You called out, the icy floor cooling the warmth of your feet. Walking out of the shower with drenched hair and a towel in your hand, rubbing it dry. The room was empty and quiet, but the whimpers echoed louder when you approached the bed- noticing the obvious bulge of his body. “Baby?” Every time you called for him, the only replies you received were whimpers- but it was no answer.

Pulling down the duvet, you let go of it to hang off the bed. Your eyes scanned his body. The stuffed elephant was large, its trunk rested on Michael’s ruffled hair as its legs draped over his pale body. The only exposed skin was his back, his red buttcheeks, his legs that seemed to be interlaced with one another. Guilt crept at the painful sight, slight regret on going too rough. His hair rose up, he shivered from the abrupt exposure to the coldness. His head went in deeper, not allowing you to see his face, “Baby boy...” Your hands removed the towel, and with no hesitation, it rested on his painfully looking cheeks, he winced as his body jolted to a flinch when you made skin contact; his grip on the elephant still strong.

“Baby..,” Hands threaded through his hair, you scratched his scalp, doing it very gently and slowly as possible. His jaw clenched, trying his best to not lean in for more or purr. His strawberry locks of hair blocked his eyes, taking a seat next to the stuffed toy- you tugged the elephant away, softly; placing it on the other side of the bed. His head didn’t move; contemplating in thought if he should turn away. And he made the right choice, avoiding the bratty option which could lead to more punishments. He stayed in the same place as the white sheets puddled his salty tears. You noticed his frown and his pout. He shook his head, nudging off your hand, stuffing his head below the pillow. “No, no, come to Mommy,”

Silence. His body didn’t respond as you sat with opened arms, waiting patiently for him. A sigh escapes your lips, remembering that he was in pain and it was not the right moment to scold him. You placed your hand on his ass cheeks once again, kneading it in circles. He winced, toes curling at the pain as he sobbed, “You were a good boy, taking all of Mommy’s spankings,” Pulling the hand away, the marks of your hand left prints of scorching red. His shoulders bopped up and down, sobbing into the elephant.

“Do you want Mommy to make you feel better?” After waiting for his reply, he nodded, head pulling away from the pillow. Still, on his sides, he played with the corner of the pillow, a pout on his lips as he avoided your eyes. “Look at Mommy, baby boy,”

His eyes pulled away from the pillow to land on yours, a smile playing on your lips when he listened, “Such a pretty boy,” You complimented, noticing the flash of happiness that crossed his eyes and the faint blush; probably from the crying. You wiped his wet and flushed cheeks, your hands rested on his shoulders, caressing it gently before running it down his body to lay on his hip- near his soft cock. “Lay on your tummy for Mommy.”

He nodded, grasping the pillow to turn his body, a few winces and grunts before he rested comfortably. His head rested on his crossed arms, he tried his best to not stare at you as he faces the headboard. Anticipation curled in his stomach. His hands turned into a fist when your whole palm laid on his stinging cheeks. The handprint was prominent and burning red, his mouth gaped open. His voice croaky, “M-mommy.. it hurts...”

“Sorry baby, what do you want Mommy to do?” You leaned to face him, watching as he bit his bottom lip- lost in thoughts.

He mumbled under his breath, avoiding eye contact. You hummed, scratching his head as a sign for him to repeat it again, “Kiss the boo-boo..,” He suggested, louder for me to hear. And when you continued to rub his hair without complying to his suggestion, a light bulb flicked above his head, remembering to finish his sentence. “Please Mommy?”

You grinned, happy at his plead, “Of course baby,” Straddling his calves, his ass cheeks at your eye level, you pressed a gentle kiss. His toes curled at the pain, eyes shut as he winced. “Such a good boy,” You planted another kiss on the other side. “For Mommy... Let’s go take a bath.”

His eyes lit up, hands pushing his body off the bed, you wore a smile at the successful attempt of persuading him, “With bubbles?”

“With bubbles.”

[taehyungsgrowl]

Thinking about fem! Michael tying me up and running a sharp stiletto nail down my sternum and smirking as she watches me squirm -🎹

MA’AM

a perfectly manicured nail running down your body. omfg and being tied down. she loves to have you like that though.

knows that even though she’s barely touching you, your skin is on fire.

and she reminds you of how needy you are. 

mocks you a little. laughs when you try to pull at the restraints. 

“easy, baby. i’m gonna take my time with you,” bonus points if she uses a ring like the countess to cut the center of your bra. 

[singereden]

So like... considering everything we know... This is Michael Langdon’s... daddy...??

[mildly--gay]

I really hope he knows how beautiful he is

[itsgrishaverse]

♡’s 

[rosetintednightmares]

Something something apocalypse end times something

[hecohansen31]

Although he grew up overnight, Michael remains a child in his mind and flesh. His skin and hair smell like milk, he pouted when something annoyed him, he was quickly tired and needed to take a nap... with his army of stuffed animals, his friends! He is very sad after seeing Toy Story because they refuse to talk to him and very excited to meet you, his first human friend (and more!), even if you dont stop sniffing him, calling him "baby", and cuddling him (well, that doesnt really bother him)

(A/N): Hello, lovely!

Again, sorry for being late and I swear that as soon as I getr some time I am going to work onto the foursome one!

I really hope you’ll enjoy it!

WARNINGS; Young Michael, Child Regression and Age Play.

You couldn’t remember what had brought you in the infamous “Murder House”.

Certainly not the rumors, but one day you had found yourself on the stairs at the entrance of the house and Mrs Langdon had ushered you in, mumbling about how “they didn’t have many visitors”, most importantly “ definitely not pretty people like you”.

She had been remembering exactly about her wonderful past as a known actress, touching and retouching her elegant hair and make-up, meanwhile she smoked straight up in your face.

It was truly an understatement to say you hadn’t ever felt more annoyed, but everything had changed once a young boy, around your age had appeared on the stair, still sleepy and softly rubbing his eyes, as a child would do.

The entire image of softness brought a smile to your face and meanwhile Constance grimaced presenting you “her silly grandson, Michael”, you raised to your feet, meeting him halfway to gently offer our hand to him, which he looked confused and brought you in a soft hug, and there somehow you discovered that he still smelt like milk, like a baby would.

You had been surprised by Michael’s openness, but hadn’t minded it too much and had actually beamed when he had softly muttered about already liking you, inviting you to play with him in his room and you had been basically dragged onto the stair, meanwhile he laughed softly.

You had soon discovered a childish room, nothing that would have belonged to an 18 year old boy and neither to someone slightly younger as if, although Michael’s body was all grown up, he was still a baby mentally and you discovered further this, meanwhile you played with him, with his trucks and videogames.

When you had had to go back home, he had pouted obscenely, offering you also a temper tantrum that didn’t come even in the slightest closer to one an adult would make and only the promise between you and Constance of coming back for him the following day, had soothed him.

It had quickly become a routine for you to visit Michael after school or work, each day in the afternoon and stay to play with him, something similar to what a babysitter would do, cherishing the sweet boy.

Only once you had asked Constance if he had some kind of mental problem, and her answer had been a curtly “he basically grew up overnight”, which you had taken as him growing up too fast and regressing as a way to comfort him and his mood.

You honestly found his company refreshing and didn’t mind taking care of him, mostly because Michael knew how to be quiet and nice and sweet with you, becoming pretty compliant in your hand, although he would absolutely threw tantrums whenever he could.

But it would take him an hour to be exhausted and fall asleep, meanwhile you tucked in.

One day you had brought a movie to watch with him, since sadly you hadn’t been able to bring him to the cinema, since Constance had forbidden it, and you had opted for a movie afternoon with him, choosing “Toy Story”, since you knew that Michael had a pendant for cartoons.

You both enjoyed the movie and Michael even cried a bit, when Andy and Woody were reunited.

You left him after the movie, reassuring him that you had had a nice afternoon and would love to spend the following with him and when you had come the next day you had been surprised to discover Michael crouched down in his room, in front of all his stuffed animals and toys.

He seemed analyzing them skeptically and was startled by your hand being posed onto his shoulder suddenly.

“What are you doing, Michael?” you asked softly, cooing his scared state, meanwhile he brought you to move closer to him on the fluffy carpet of the moquette.

“… trying to communicate with my toys” he explained easily and you still didn’t understand what he meant, which shone on his face, because he spoke up again “… like the toys of “Toy Story””.

A small smile appeared on your face, meanwhile you couldn’t help but love the naivety that shone in Michael’s eyes, as if he truly believed into that magic, something which you only associated with children and you couldn’t help but love that characteristic.

“Oh sweetie” you didn’t want to ruin the magic, but also you realized that encouraging it wouldn’t bring anything good and tried to explain to him hat what happened in the movie wasn’t real, getting a very frustrated “why” by the curly boy “… because sweetheart, sadly toys don’t talk… that is a movie, it isn’t real”.

Michael didn’t take the news too well, looking halfway through crying and you swiftly suggested you played with the toys instead as you always did, but he seemed desperate muttering something you didn’t understand, and asked him softly to speak up.

“Then I won’t have friends to play with, like Andy!” he protested, throwing himself dramatically on the bed and you gently came behind him hugging his back softly and snuggling closer.

“Oh, but baby, you have me” you tried to console him, covering in smacking kisses till he finally gave up and snuggled closer to you.

“It’s just… I feel alone… I don’t have any friends” and before you could again remind him of your presence he simply mumbled “… but you won’t stick around fo ever and you have your own grown up things to do, during the day”.

You couldn’t help but be a bit in awe of Michael’s affection towards you, softly mouthing kisses into his back, trying to coax him to look at you, and when you did you gently brushed away his tear, kissing his red cheeks.

“Sweetie, I won’t go away, believe me” and you picked up the first toy you had found on the ground, a little shepherdess, exactly as the one that Andy had in the movie and modulating your voice higher, you mumbled “… now, won’t you play with me, Michael?”.

He giggled, although he was still a bit sad, but picked up another little toy, a little blue stuffed bear.

“… of course, Dollie”.

It was another saved day, over at the Murder House.

… but wait till Michael animated the toys with magic…

[american-horror-story-trash]

Michael Langdon - The Intern (Part 2)

Title: The Intern (Part 2) Requested: No Synopsis: After your first encounter with Michael, your relationship began to blossom into something much more Word Count: 1,346 Notes: I really liked this so I wanted to do a part two, maybe I’ll do a part three Warnings: None

Weeks passed since that first day with Michael.  You kept your relationship with him quiet since you didn’t want to upset your mother, or Jeff and Mutt.  Your work with the two of them on recreating Michael’s mother figure, Miss Miriam Mead, was going amazingly.  They actually valued your opinions and listened to what you had to say.

The day she was finished, Michael had decided he was taking you to a celebratory dinner.  Not to celebrate him getting Miss Mead back - but to celebrate the completion of your first project.  You were meeting him at the restaurant, since you couldn’t have him picking you up while your mother was home.

You walked out into the living room wearing a plain, scarlet red dress with red lace sleeves.  You checked your appearance in the mirror one last time before grabbing your purse and car keys.  “Don’t wait up,” you called out to your mother.

You heard the pound of her cane on the floor as she stood up from her velvet purple recliner chair.  “Where are you going, y/n?”

You turned to look at her.  ��I’m going out with friends, mother.”  She didn’t like you going out very much, you knew that if you said you had a date she’d lose it.  You felt awful for thinking it, but you felt that it had to do with her scoliosis an how she can’t have a romantic relationship, so she didn’t want you to have one.

You kept that to yourself, though.

She tilted her head slightly to the side.  “With who?”

You sighed.  “Friends from school.”  You put your purse strap over your shoulder.  Ever since your mother got you the internship at Kineros Robotics, she acted as if you owed her the world.  “Don’t wait up.”

You and your mother had always had a semi-strained relationship.  When it came to school work and achievements, she couldn’t be prouder of you.  But, your social life had always been a sore spot between the two of you, and you felt that it had everything to do with her condition.

You walked out the front door and got into your car.  As you drove to the restaurant, you smiled at the thought of seeing Michael.  Things had been going so well between you two, and you felt ready to finally say the three words that scared you the most:

I love you.

You were scared, though.  What if he didn’t love you back?  What if it ruined everything?  Maybe it was better to keep it to yourself.

When you got to the restaurant, you walked in and saw Michael sitting at a table in the back.  You smiled at him as you walked up to the host’s booth.  “Hi, I have a reservation for Langdon?”

The woman at the booth nodded.  “Right this way.”  She led you to the table in the back where Michael was seated, handed you both menus, and walked away.

Michael smiled at you.  “You look beautiful,” he said.

Your face flushed slightly red, matching your dress.  You looked at Michael’s outfit to see he was wearing a red shirt, black tie, and black pants.  “You look pretty good yourself,” you said with a smile.  “We matched unintentionally.”

He chuckled and nodded his head.  “What a coincidence that is.”

A waitress came by and placed a bucket with a bottle in it on the table along with two champagne flutes, and you looked at Michael.

“Michael, you didn’t,” you said, though you couldn’t help the smile on your face.

He grinned widely.  “We’re celebrating tonight, y/n.”  He took the bottle out of the bucket and poured some into the two glasses, handing you one and holding his out.  “To your first completed project.”

“And to your re-created mother,” you added, tipping your glass against his before drinking the champagne.  

Dinner was spent making conversation about anything and everything, and once your meals were finished you walked outside of the restaurant with your arm around Michael’s.

“Let’s take a walk,” he suggested, and you nodded in agreement.  The two of you walked down the street silently, arm in arm, until you spoke.

“It’s a beautiful night,” you said, looking up at the full moon and sky of stars.

He nodded his head in agreement.  “That it is, but not more so than you.”

You smiled and turned your head to him, leaning up to give him a peck on the cheek.  “You’re too sweet.”  Your heart was hammering in your chest, filling with love for this man.  “I need to tell you something, Michael.”

He stopped walking, and his eyes went wide.  “Wh-what’s wrong?” he asked.

“Nothing!” you said instantly, letting go of his arms to take his hands in yours.  “I just wanted to say something.”

He took a deep breath, slowly nodding his head.  “Go ahead.”

You looked up at him, into his beautiful blue eyes, and smiled.  “I-I love you, Michael.”

He paused, staring down at you for a moment, before he finally spoke.  “No you don’t.”

What?  Your heart broke as you stared up at him, unable to pull yourself away.  You felt like if you looked away for even a second, he’d walk off.  This was exactly what you were afraid of, he didn’t love you back.  Tears began to fill your eyes, but you tried to blink them back.  “I think I know how I feel,” you said quietly as you let go of his hands.  As long as you didn’t look away.

“You don’t love me,” he said quietly.  His blue eyes darkened a bit, and he blinked back his own tears.  “Nobody can love me.”

You shook your head, cupping his face gently with your hands.  “Babe, you know that isn’t true.  I’m right here, and I love you.”

He sniffled quietly before reaching and taking one of your hands, moving your finger to feel directly behind his ear.  “Do you feel that, y/n?” he asked.  He used his other hand to fold back his ear, revealing the bumpy mark to you.

Three sixes.

“I’m the son of Satan,” he said quietly.  “I-I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”

Your eyes widened.  There was no way - no way, right?  This couldn’t be real.  But then again, it made so much sense.  It explained why Jeff and Mutt were so afraid of him, and how he could use magic.  It explained why he didn’t talk much about his business or himself.  But, one thing still bothered you.  “If you didn’t think we were going to fall in love, what was the point of all of this then?” you asked.  “All the dinners, the sneaking around, stolen kisses when nobody was looking...  If you didn’t want to fall in love, why the hell did you do all that?”

He sniffled again.  “Because I couldn’t keep myself away from you,” he said.  His sad blue eyes looked into yours, and your heart broke all over again.  “I do love you, y/n.  But there’s no way you could ever love me - nobody can.”

You shook your head.  “You’re wrong.”  You pulled your hands away from his face and just stared up at him.  “I’m here, I’m alive, and I’m telling you I love you.  Even if you’re the Son of Satan, I don’t care.  You’re Michael.  And I love you.  Just the way you are.  And if you aren’t gonna accept that-”

You were cut off by him taking a hold of your face and bringing it to his, connecting your lips together as tears fell down his cheeks.  He held onto you tightly, not letting you pull away from him even after the kiss was broken.  You stood, on the tips of your toes, staring into his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

You blinked back your tears.  “I love you, Michael.”  You weren’t afraid of him.  The Michael you’d come to know and love would never hurt you.  As you stared into the eyes of the devil, you weren’t scared.

“I love you too,” he said back.

[taehyungsgrowl]

Hey deary I need an opinion in two subjects? Which of our boys do you think would be most into fucking your face?? And which do you think would be most into you wearing a tailed butt plug?..I'm sorry but a bitch needs to know..-🖤

IDK if I’m just in a Duncan mood lately! But I wanna say Duncan for both. 

I’ve always thought that “kitten” was a pet name that he’d use SO like surprising him by wearing a tail + lil ears! IDK I feel like he’d be the most into it! 

I also think Sojourn!Michael would be really into fucking your face. He’s just so.. primal idk. Like, he would be a little rough with you, pushing your face down his length, growling and calling you a dirty little whore idk idk :))) yeehaw

[sweetlangdon]

Designated Driver (Michael Langdon x Reader)

Notes: What’s this?? A new Roommates fic?! This one is based on a few asks I got a while ago that involved a discussion of drunk!roommate. This one is also in Michael’s POV!

Warnings: Brief mention of vomiting. Other than that, just fluff.

Word Count: 2.6k+

It’s nearly two in the morning when Michael Langdon, ex-Antichrist—ten months and counting, as of midnight—and current roommate, hears his phone ring. The vibration from the phone shoved in the side pocket of his pants rouses the furry black lump lounging across his lap. The lump, known as “little shit,” “hell beast,” “bastard,” and other nonsense nicknames in casual conversation, lets out an indignant chirp at the disturbance, electric green eyes blinking up at Michael as though he was responsible for the cat’s interrupted sleep. Michael scowls by way of response and pushes the cat off him—he doesn’t go willingly, sinking his razor-sharp claws into Michael’s thigh before finally sliding free—to retrieve his phone.

There’s only one person who has his number, and it’s the same person who bought him the phone in the first place. Michael shakes his head at the name illuminated on his screen and the picture he snapped of you two months ago at breakfast when you still didn’t have enough coffee in you, yet. You’re flipping him off in the picture, and although you tried to act irritated about the whole thing, you’re actually smirking, and that’s why Michael loves it so much. He’ll never admit it. But it’s a fact.

“Hello?”

A rustling sound fills Michael’s ear; he waits, for a moment, but all he hears is a lot of background noise: the murmur of voices, a peal of laughter somewhere farther off, the clinking of glasses and ebb and flow of footsteps. Michael calls your name, wondering if you’d somehow dialed his phone by accident.

“…Hello?”

“Michael!” Your voice comes through the phone so aggressively, so loud, that he has to hold it away from his ear while you continue to holler his name. “Michael, are you there?”

“Yeah.” He closes his eyes and tries to summon enough patience for whatever this encounter will expect of him. He’d started to drift off before you called, but he’d been trying to stay awake until he knew you were home. He doesn’t know why. “Did you need something? Are you…okay?”

“Oh yeah, I’m great,” you tell him.

You’re drunk. You know it. Michael knows it. He’s seen you drunk in the apartment when you’ve had a little too much wine. There was that one time you tried to get him drunk just to see what he was like, but to your disappointment, you found that alcohol doesn’t have the same effect on the Devil’s baby boy. Michael knows that giggly tone of voice, though, and that breezy affection you can’t keep from wandering into your tone once the booze has taken effect.

“I’m super…” You begin humming in Michael’s ear and then cut yourself off as you’re about to sing some kind of lyrics. “Hey, Michael?”

He drags a hand through his hair. “Yeah?”

“I need you,” you drawl the end of the sentence until it becomes half-whiny, half-singsong.

“Are you okay?” Michael asks again. This time, he sits up straighter, sliding close to the edge of the couch. From somewhere on the floor, two bright green eyes stare up at him expectantly. “Did something happen?”

“No, no, no,” you say, as if Michael should know this already. “I need you to pick me up. Duh.”

“Pick you…?” Michael sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger. Clearly, your logic has disappeared, but he doesn’t want to try and reason with you. Not now. It’s useless.

“I can’t dri—fine, I’m coming to get you…I’ll be there in a minute. Don’t go anywhere. You hear me? Don’t go wandering off, I’ll be right there.” Michael shudders to think of the bastards crawling around this city at this time of the early morning—worse bastards than men who happened be born the Devil’s son. He wouldn’t hesitate to break his streak of good behavior if he had to tear out someone’s beating heart who dared to touch you.

“A minute?” comes your incredulous reply. “How? You can’t drive, Langdon.”

Michael laughs. A genuine, deep laugh that makes his belly ache. He has no fucking idea where it’s come from, but he’s surprised to find that feels good. “Oh, now you remember.”

It doesn’t take him long to find you. It’s not particularly difficult; he’s had more than enough time to acclimate himself to your presence and whatever aura you give off. Michael could find you anywhere. You’re like a needle in a haystack of seven billion people, but he’ll always know just you. Always you.

Transmutation, as it turns out, has its perks. Michael tries to limit his magic use where he can because some part of him knows it’s not good for his worst instincts, and another part of him thinks that maybe it’ll act like a beacon for the witches to track him by. But he can’t shun his powers altogether. He’s tried, but they’re a part of him just as much as his blond curls, whether he wants them to be or not.

He lands in an alley between a dumpster and a haphazard stack of wooden crates, which is fortunate, considering he really didn’t want to explain himself to a bar full of people. Not that any of them would remember a strange, scrawny boy with wild, golden curls just appearing out of thin air while they got themselves shitfaced. But, still. It’s one less headache. Michael shoulders his way past a small group of departing patrons into the bar, dodging a few odd stares. He knows he barely looks old enough to have a legal drink, but he does his best to jut out his chin and walk with a purposeful, confident stride. And maybe a few glares that could’ve been lethal if wielded with enough force.

It’s a nice bar, Michael thinks. He’d been expecting some shitty dive with sticky floors and a dubious clientele, but this place is…not it. For one thing, it’s packed with people in expensive suits and nice blouses and sensible heels and salaries that probably paid for yachts and whirlwind trips across Europe. They’re all still drunk and a little sloppy around the edges, though. Michael can practically see the sin that hangs in a cloud above them like cigarette smoke. The place is bigger than he expects, too: sleek, with ultramodern tables and chairs, awash in the glow of trendy industrial fixtures and neon signs.

Michael’s stomach does a somersault, dread winding down his spine with icy cold fingers, until he sees you. You’re at a table in a far corner with the last of your work colleagues, and you wave enthusiastically once your uncoordinated gaze lands on your roommate.

“Michael!” You continue waving, glassy-eyed, loud, and rather unconcerned about keeping up a level of professionalism in front of your coworkers. Then again, it’s two in the morning, and they look as plastered as you are, so Michael thinks any sort of professionalism has been checked at the door. “Over here!”

Michael ducks his head and ambles over, offering the most disarming smile that he can summon. He knows none of these people will remember him in the morning. Your coworkers and friends and acquaintances flitter in and out at a pace he can’t keep up with, and since he’s not exactly sure how permanent a fixture he’ll be in your life—even though it’s been ten months and counting—Michael doesn’t care enough to learn their names.

You all but stumble out of the cushy, dimly lit booth and drape yourself across Michael, and to his horrified surprise, plant a sloppy kiss on his cheek. He can feel the lipstick mark you’ve left on his skin and grimaces. You wobble a little at his side so he takes your elbow, trying not to make too much eye contact with the people still occupying the booth. It’s easy enough; half of them are glued to their phone screens, presumably calling for a ride or scoping out a secondary bar to migrate to.

“My roommate is here,” you announce to the group, who remain largely uninterested and too shitfaced to care. Michael frowns as you wrap your arms around his shoulders, hanging all over him, so close that he can smell the floral notes of your shampoo and the sweet, fruity scent of your perfume. And the booze, strong and cloying and…how many fucking drinks have you had? He doesn’t know what to do about this arrangement, exactly, except to hold onto you so you don’t fall on your ass.

“You’re the best, you know?” you continue to slur, and then you pat Michael’s cheek as though this is a thing you do all the time, but you most definitely don’t. “Michael is the best…he really is.” He tries to extricate your hand from his cheek. It doesn’t work, and he knows he’s fighting a losing battle.

You drop your voice into a conspiratorial whisper that isn’t really a whisper at all. “My roommate is the Antichrist,” you giggle, and for a moment Michael pales, ice blue eyes wide as they dart around this high end bar. It’s foolish, Michael thinks, that he’s so paranoid about your drunken announcement; if your friends don’t seem to give a single fuck about it, no one else will take it seriously. “But he’s really not. He’s not, you know? He’s too…Michael Langdon, you’re too sweet to be the Antichrist.” You lose your composure to a fit of giggles and nearly topple over, if not for Michael’s steadying hands on you. “And handsome…”

“Okay,” Michael interrupts. “Time to go.”

You declare your goodbyes to the group, who offer their own as Michael steers you through a dwindling crowd of people toward the door. Michael feels your unstable movements beside him; your tendency to wobble, which he thinks might be partly due to the heels you’re wearing. You also have a habit of trying to weasel out of his grasp and wander off in another direction entirely, but you have both arms wound around one of Michael’s, trying to drag him along.

“Where’s the car?”

Michael sighs. “We can pick up your car tomorrow. I didn’t come here in a car, remember?”

“No,” you drawl.

“Of course not.”

You hum a song Michael doesn’t recognize, and rest your head on his shoulder as you walk. Michael lets it happen because there’s little else he can do. He doesn’t look, but he can feel your gaze on him and it causes the heat to rise on his cheeks. He’s glad you’re plastered because he can feel his ears burning hotter than usual.

“Has anyone told you that your eyes are pretty?”

“No.” Michael can’t help the smirk that pulls at the corner of his lips. You’re so fucking drunk, and it’s somewhere between adorable and completely obnoxious. 

“Because they are. They’re, like, really pretty, Langdon. What shade of blue is that?”

“Come on,” Michael says. “Almost there.”

He places a hand tentatively at the small of your back to keep you steady, and somehow you take that as an invitation to drape one of your arms across Michael’s shoulders, your cheek firmly pressed against his. Once you’re in an alleyway, a safe distance from prying eyes, Michael tightens his hold on you. You’ve held hands before. There have been awkward, meaningful silences and a kiss that you haven’t properly discussed since you both let it happen. But nothing has felt more intimate than this—the two of you so close, so together, your breath fanning across Michael’s cheek, the warmth of you seeping into his clothes.

It scares him a little, how dependent you are on him right now; he’s never had this kind of responsibility. No one has ever really placed something so precious as their safety and well-being in his hands. It’s fucking terrifying.

“I’ve never done this before, but it should work,” he admits. You’re humming again, and possibly falling asleep standing up because Michael notices your eyes drifting closed. Maybe it’s for the best, he thinks. “Just…hold on, and maybe keep your eyes shut.”

In the next breath, the two of you are standing in the living room of your apartment. Michael breathes a sigh of relief—Transmutation for himself is one thing, but bringing a passenger is something else entirely. Something that, as of two seconds ago, he didn’t know for sure was possible. Michael isn’t altogether certain about the limits of his own power, or if any such limits even exist. This meant that, despite his best efforts to distance himself from his abilities, they were still growing, still gathering strength.

But that was probably a worry for another night.

“Holy shit,” Michael hears you say. You look like your eyes are about to bug out of your head, and Michael wonders if you’ll even remember your experience with Transmutation once you’re sober.

Thirty seconds after you’ve landed in your apartment, you puke all over Michael’s shoes.

He doesn’t have the energy to be angry about it, or maybe he isn’t angry about it at all. It’s not your fault, not really; Michael’s never tried out Transmutation while drunk, but he assumes maybe it’s not an altogether pleasant experience. He slips out of the shoes and helps you navigate around the mess—miraculously, your own clothes have been spared—to the bathroom.

Michael stays there, keeping your hair out of the mess, until the world is no longer spinning and your stomach has righted itself. He stays there even though you go into hysterics, crying about shoes that don’t really matter and sobbing over things Michael can’t even understand because you’re starting to not make any damn sense. He’s never been good at offering comfort, so he just sits on the floor next to you, long, lithe fingers stroking your hair, his other hand gently rubbing circles on your back. He thinks maybe it helps, a little. Or so he hopes.

“I love you, Langdon,” you say for about the fourth time. Maybe more. It’s a short trip between the bathroom and living room couch, but you’ve managed to repeat yourself while hanging all over him. Though the declaration makes Michael’s stomach somersault more than he’s willing to admit, he doesn’t take it to heart. You’re just an affectionate drunk. “I do…I mean it. I think I love you a little bit.”

“Just a little?” Michael teases.

“You’re just…you’re a big softie, Mr. Antichrist,” you tell him through another round of giggles. “Shhh…I won’t tell anyone, I promise. It’ll be our secret.”

“Because you’re so good at keeping those.”

“I am!”

“You’re really not.” You plop unceremoniously onto the couch despite Michael’s best efforts, and it makes you laugh. Then again, everything is hilarious to you right now, despite the fact that you were bawling your eyes out over Michael’s ruined shoes five minutes ago. “Lucky for us both, I don’t think anyone will believe what you said about me.”

Michael gingerly tugs off your heels. The bedroom is still off-limits, and he’s not willing to risk it even under these weird circumstances, so he gives up his bed for the night. It’s not like he’ll be getting any sleep; he knows already that he’ll be up making sure you don’t choke in your sleep or wander off or something like that. While you burrow deeper into a nest of pillows and blankets, Michael settles onto the floor in front of the couch, where the cat finally comes crawling back into his lap.

“Love you,” you drawl, again, this time in a whisper.

“Get some sleep,” Michael says as the cat sinks a claw into his leg, kneading the fabric of his pants.

“Aren’t you,” Michael hears you yawn behind him, your voice slurred and groggy and nearly unintelligible, “going to say it back?”

“Maybe when you’re sober,” he whispers. 

You’ve already fallen asleep.

@lastregasolitaria @mylippo @zeciex @lvngdvns @langdonsdemon @yourkingcodyfern @sojournmichael @gabnelson98 @antichristlangdxn @keavysmithxoxo  @batgirlbride  @dead-witch-boy @boofy1998 @gentianea @cryptid-coalition @langdonsrapture @kinlovecody @yuriohoe04   @gallxntdean @langdonscurls @jcshadowkiss-blog @frozenhuntress67 @sebastianshoe @dixmond-taurus @bookobssesed99 @sassylangdon @queenie435 @holylangdon  @angsty-otters-blog  @mr-langdonn @micheallangdons @lostin-fern @crazedcatcuddler @michaelsapostle @monsucre @ritualmichael  @queencocoakimmie @bluelancesredswords @theharvestgirloffire @punkysouls @sevenwondr @prettykitten123 @zoebensvn @kylosbabe @sloppy-little-witch-bitch26 @readsalot73 @americanhorrorstudies  @tiny-ruby-seeds

[langdonslove]

my baby getting all the recognition he deserves!!!!!!!!!!

[langdonsfallen]

Black Heart [Part 2] will be posted tonight!

-16/12/18

[brooklinn13]

My Masterlist

Michael Langdon

 (I Own You) dark!Michael Landgon x reader

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

JIM MASON

(Run)dark!Jim x reader

(Their Darkest Secret)

 Dark!stepdad!Andy x reader, dark!stepbro!Michael x reader, dark!stepbro! Duncan x reader, dark!stepbro!Jim x reader

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Wilhemina Venable

Mines

[rosetintednightmares]

Is this a fellow you would trust to bring about the end times?

[ahs-source]

Happy Friday! Welcome to this week’s Fanfiction Friday! Thank you to those who submitted these fantastic works for this week’s Fanfiction Friday. Let’s celebrate these wonderful works that you can all read while in quarantine! Please stay safe!

A Monster Under Your Bed (Tumblr Post) by SisteroftheMoon (AO3) / @guiltyfiend​​ (Tumblr) Relationships: Michael Langdon x Female Reader | Tags: Apocalypse, Post-Apocalypse, Cunnilingus, Smut, Fluff, Death, Monsters, POV Female Character | Completed (1/1 Chapters) | 6590 words

Michael Langdon has always liked to spy on you from under your bed.

Bloom by the4thvvall (AO3) / @americanhorrorhcs​​​ (Tumblr) Relationships: Michael Langdon x Mr. Gallant | Tags: Hanahaki Disease, Gore, Violence, tw for vomiting/sickness, Unrequited Love | Completed (1/1 Chapters) | 1662 words

there’s no room for anything to grow in the outpost

The Wrath of Lamb by @hadesruinseverything​​​​ (Tumblr) Relationships: Michael Langdon x Female Reader | A/N: desecration of a cross, church fucking.  All that jazz.  Reader legit fucks herself with a crucifix… | One-Shot | 949 words

“Not exactly something I’d thought I’d witness in the house of the lord.”

Father Landgon’s words weren’t of anger or repulsion. There was amusement in his tone; A smirk you can notice through the lattice panel you’re speaking through.

“What’s that, Father?”

Playing coy, gripping your Bible and crucifix close, Father Langdon sits still for a moment and laughs before coming closer.

“It’s not every day a person comes in to pleasure themselves in here while I give a sermon.”

Thank you to those who sent in these works! Please continue sending submissions to ahs-source.tumblr.com/submit or through the Tumblr mobile app to continue celebrating the writers in the community! [Side note: We apologise for not up-keeping FF Fridays these past few weeks. Things have been slightly difficult for us, but if you continue to submit posts, we will continue to post them!]

Previous FF Fridays: 1 | 2a + 2b | 3 | 4a + 4b | 5 | 6 | 7

[fckinsupreme]

masterlist !

** indicates NSFW

This list will update as more fics/etc. get posted!

MICHAEL LANGDON:

Series:

**Lesson - Hawthorne!Michael x Fem!Reader : Part One | Part Two | Part Three 

One-Shots:

**Favors- Fire and Reign!Michael x Fem!Reader

**Consequences - Post Fire and Reign!Michael x Fem!Reader 

**Found - Sojourn!Michael x Fem!Reader

**Offer - Sojourn!Michael x Fem!Reader 

Requests: 

**Jealous Fire & Reign Michael x Fem!Reader 

XAVIER PLYMPTON:

One-Shots:

**Blasphemous - Xavier x Fem!Reader 

Requests: 

**Mirror, Mirror - Xavier x Fem!Reader

**Mirror, Mirror - PART TWO - Xavier x Fem! Reader

**Touch Me (I Want Your Body) - Xavier Plympton  

**Touch Me (I Want Your Body) - PART TWO - Xavier Plympton x Fem!Reader

Saved - Xavier Plympton x Fem!Reader 

**Masterpiece - Xavier Plympton x Fem!Reader 

**Everybody Wants You - Xavier Plympton x Dom!Fem!Reader 

Lay With Me Forever - Xavier Plympton x Fem!Reader 

**Show Me - Xavier Plympton x Chet Clancy x Fem!Reader 

**it happened one summer - Xavier Plympton x Virgin!Fem Reader 

**attention - Xavier Plympton x Fem!Reader 

DUNCAN SHEPHERD:

**The Beauty of Boredom - Duncan Shepherd x Xavier Plympton x Fem!Reader: PART 1 | PART 2

Blurbs:

MICHAEL LANGDON:

**Jealous Fire & Reign Michael not wanting you to wear a certain outfit

**Outpost Michael tormenting you while you're chained to the ceiling

**Hawthorne Michael catches you masturbating

**Roughness with Outpost Michael 

**Fire & Reign Michael is angry with you 

**Sitting in Outpost Michael’s lap 

**Sojourn Michael wants you

**Doing a strip tease for Hawthorne Michael  

**Outpost Michael interviews you 

**Fire & Reign Michael gives you a special interview 

**Sojourn Michael is ruthless with you 

Encountering your ex Michael at Hawthorne 

Michael catches you cheating (tw: death)  

Outpost Michael is angry that you’re a grey

**Anal with Sojourn Michael  

**Michael showing emotion 

Outpost Michael & reader reunite after several years 

**Making up with Outpost Michael after a fight 

**Outpost Michael helps you tighten a corset 

**Reader is Outpost Michael’s servant 

Fire & Reign Michael rescues you from Hell 

**Outpost Michael wants you to cockwarm him 

**Hawthorne Michael is a virgin 

**You & Sojourn Michael give each other head 

**Outpost Michael spits in your mouth during rough sex 

You are pregnant with Michael’s baby

DUNCAN SHEPHERD:

**Professor Duncan being jealous over you & your boyfriend

**Teasing Duncan until he pulls the car over 

**Duncan eats you out after a date

**Teasing Duncan at a banquet in retaliation for his own teasing

**Jealous Duncan takes you to a gala

Dad!Duncan watches you breastfeed

Dad!Duncan coming home to you & your son 

**You see your ex Duncan in a bar

**Cockwarming Duncan during a meeting 

**Pregnancy sex with Duncan

**A threesome with Jim Mason & Duncan

**Sex with older, sugar daddy Duncan   

**Threesome with Xavier and reader 

**Threesome with Michael and reader 

**President Duncan and reader is his VP’s daughter | PART TWO

 **Sex with President Duncan 

**You & President Duncan have sex in a moving car

**You & President Duncan at a play 

**Sub!President Duncan and reader 

**Facetime sex with Duncan 

**Balcony sex with President Duncan...with a twist 

Domestic bliss with President Duncan 

XAVIER PLYMPTON:

**Xavier wanting to use a dildo on you

**Xavier wants to get down and dirty on the dock

**Xavier believes that you’re more than just a one-night stand

**Xavier wants you to kill for him 

**Xavier fingering you in a swimming pool 

**You & Xavier have fun in the Vanta-C

**Xavier uses a vibrating wand on you 

**You distract Xavier from a video game 

**Xavier watches you masturbate

**You tease Xavier with an ice cream cone 

Xavier helps sad reader 

**You help Xavier rehearse lines for a play

**Ghost!Xavier meets you in 2020 | PART TWO

**Pegging Xavier at the studio 

**A threesome with Xavier and Jim Mason 

**Xavier rides reader’s thigh 

**Cockwarming Xavier on the camp’s dock 

**You & Xavier get locked in a cabin for being too flirty 

**Xavier with mommy kink 

**Public sex with Xavier in the aerobics studio 

**Xavier eats you out in the bathtub 

**Xavier eating you out in a cabin with other sleeping counselors 

**Xavier wants to top you, but you won’t let him--yet

**You & Xavier fool around in the woods (bonus Margaret and Chet)

**Modern!Xavier is a subby cam boy  

Reader & Xavier find their song 

**Spanking bratty sub!Xavier 

**You dom Xavier in Chet’s bed 

**Xavier cums too fast and makes it up to you 

**Shower sex with Xavier 

**Edging sub!Xavier 

**Clingy & shy sub!Xavier

CHET CLANCY:

**Chet is jealous of you & Xavier 

**You & Chet have fun in the lake 

JIM MASON: 

Jim soothes reader after she argues with her father 

**Sub!virgin Jim 

**Stepbrother!Jim and Xavier have fun with you 

**Jim riding his pillow 

Random Posts/Concepts/etc.:

MICHAEL LANDGON:

**Giving Fire & Reign Michael Head

**Fire & Reign Michael eating you out during a meeting

**Fire & Reign Michael punishing you for staring at him in a sheer top

**A pseudo game of hide & seek with Fire & Reign Michael soon turns into another game entirely 

My thoughts on Duncan Shepherd

My thoughts on Xavier Plympton