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#AHS Apocalypse
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littlemissemo69 · 1 day
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😭true
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longgentlekiss · 1 year
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"My name is Luke cooper, I like films." ︴✧
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delicateflowerss · 6 months
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Dark Paradise
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You try to adjust to a new life, married and living in a manor. But you quickly realize that not everything is what it seems, including your mysterious and devilishly handsome husband, Michael Langdon.
Warnings: 18+, DUB-CON, violence, murder, demon!Michael, blood kink, pain kink, breeding kink, dacryphilia
Word Count: 4.2k
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You’re not sure if you’ll ever get used to the dark corridors where shadows dance in your periphery, or the damp smell that makes you feel like you’re underground. It smells of rotting fruit, a slow and lingering decay, almost like death surrounds you.
As long as it doesn’t reach you.
You’re also not sure if you’ll ever get used to the man that haunts these grounds. This tall, dark manor that sits in the middle of nowhere.
He’s not dead, he’s just your husband.
His appearances to you are scarce, only really seeing him at mealtimes and occasionally passing him in hallways.
He’s elusive, mysterious to you in ways you cannot comprehend. Ever since you arrived at the manor, all you’ve had are questions.
For an unknown reason, you can’t remember your life before this place. All you know is you were married off to a man named Michael Langdon.
Sometimes, you have the strangest dreams with a house that feels like the complete opposite of here. One filled with love and light and white walls, and not this frigidness that wraps around you now.
The days almost feel like they go on forever, blending together as nothing surprising happens.
Until one night, you’re pulled out of a peaceful slumber by a piercing scream.
It takes you a moment to blink away the sleep, wondering if it was real or part of a dream.
It doesn’t take long before another one echoes throughout the manor. It’s shrill, a seemingly female scream.
You clutch the soft sheets under you, your heartbeat loud in your ears.
You think about whether you should lie back down, ignoring it and going back to sleep. But you don’t think you could even if you wanted to.
Perhaps against your better judgement, you leave your bedroom, with only a candle lighting your path through the dark hallways.
Your white nightgown sways as you step between walls covered in paintings. The dim candlelight casts shadows on the faces, giving them a particularly ghoulish look.
You keep walking, hoping to find some sort of sign of what it is that woke you up. You’re not even sure where the scream exactly came from.
Before you can reach Michael’s room, a chill sweeps past you, extinguishing your candle, leaving you shivering in the dark.
A disembodied voice calls out your name in the form of a question.
“What are you doing out of your room?” he asks.
You instantly recognize the voice, and it stops you in your tracks. You swallow as he steps closer to you. Michael is holding a candle, illuminating the glare on his face.
“I thought I heard something. It woke me up,” you say nervously.
“I didn’t hear anything,” he replies, his brow furrowing.
“It sounded like a scream. I thought someone might have gotten hurt.”
“Are you sure you didn’t just have a nightmare?” he asks in an almost mocking manner, a cruel smirk growing on his lips.
“No-.” You sigh, stopping yourself. “No,” you say again, this time quieter.
“Come on. I’ll tuck you in and look under your bed for monsters,” he says, trying to step past you with a teasing grin on his face.
“I know what I heard, Michael.”
He stops, mere inches from your face and he can see the seriousness that settles in your eyes.
It doesn’t stop his own icy blue eyes from growing colder.
His gaze rakes over you before he leans in closer, warm breath fanning over your lips as he says, “you didn’t hear anything, Y/N. Time to go back to bed.”
You think your own breathing has stopped before he leaves you, going back to his bedroom.
That’s when your goosebumps return, Michael taking all warmth with him.
You’ve sat in the library all day, reading by the window as rain hits the glass. You decided that you’ll read every book in this place since you don’t have much else to do. You’re on 28 out of 11,200. Thunder rumbles above you as you turn the page.
Nothing has happened since you heard the scream, helping you to believe that it was either a dream or your sleep-addled imagination. You tried asking your handmaid if she heard anything that night, but she said no, giving you a strange look like you might be going mad.
You quickly shut up about it.
Michael hasn’t brought it up, which you’re somewhat grateful for because if he did, it would probably be to make fun of you some more.
Even if he has been polite enough about it, it’s been difficult to be around him. He’s always had an intense gaze but something about it has changed. It lingers for too long.
You think that’s always been the case. But now you react differently, a heat growing in your cheeks and a fire igniting in the pit of your stomach.
“Are you hiding from me for a reason?”
You practically jump, startled by the deep voice near your ear.
You close your book and look over your shoulder, finding Michael standing behind you. Amusement lights up his face and his hands are clasped together behind him.
“Do you normally spend your time in here?” he asks, eyes scanning the room, finding books from floor to ceiling and a fire raging, keeping you warm.
“Sometimes.”
You stare at him, still confused as to why he’s bothering you. Shouldn’t he be busy with something?
“So why do you seem to be in here more than you used to be?”
He steps over to the chair you’re sitting in, wood creaking underneath him. He looks over your shoulder, reading the title of your leatherbound book.
You swallow, able to smell the rich scent he wears. It’s musky with a dash of sweetness, like a piece of fruit being harvested from the earth.
“Just reading more, I guess,” you finally answer his question.
“Hm, well I wanted to apologize for the other night.” He pauses, like it’s hard to get the words out. “You were obviously shaken, and I could’ve been nicer.”
Even if his apology could be more genuine, at least it’s an apology.
“I also want to give you something,” he says before placing something on a side table near you.
You pull your brows together as you take in the gift.
“A pomegranate?” you ask, moving your gaze to him, eyebrows raised.
He picks the piece of fruit back up, mischief dancing in his eyes. In one motion, he cracks the rouge skin open, revealing hundreds of little seeds.
He gathers exactly four seeds in the palm of his hand, setting the rest of the fruit back down.
Without saying anything, he brings his hand closer to you, offering it as if you have no choice but to accept.
You hesitate for a moment before reaching to grab them from the palm of his large hand.
But when your skin brushes against his, a gasp falls from your lips, an image flashing in front of you.
It’s Michael, but he looks different…wearing different clothes than he wears now, almost like a school uniform.
The pomegranate seeds fall to the floor before you look up at him.
There’s a question in his eyes that almost matches yours. But it’s just a flicker of confusion before it disappears, turning into irritation.
He clasps his hands together again before leaning down to you and saying lowly, “if you make a mess, you must clean it up. Remember that.”
You keep your eyes away from him, not able to look at him. You can faintly hear him walk away, but your mind is too focused on the words that seem to have another meaning to them. A meaning that makes heat swirl inside you.
The sun is out today, but just barely. It peeks slightly behind gray clouds. You’ll take it over nothing, deciding it called for a stroll in the garden.
Except, as you look around, you realize there isn’t much of a garden. The flowers seem to be withering away, drooping without life and leaves almost crumbling to dust.
It must be the lack of sunshine, you think as you frown.
It’s so hard to find beauty in a place like this, instead only finding death and tragedy.
Without intending to, your mind wanders to a certain someone. You suppose not all beauty is lost.
You still have been avoiding Michael to the best of your abilities, still unsure what happened that day in the library.
You’re also unsure of your growing feelings for him. He is your husband, but it’s also true you two never consummated the marriage.
He never wanted to, and at first, you were grateful. But now, as you think of his golden curls and sharp jawline that could have been crafted by the gods themselves, you wonder if it would help ease the tension between you. Maybe it’s what you need to do in order to have a normal conversation with him.
But nothing about him is normal. He might be beautiful, but you can’t ignore the darkness that lies in his eyes and makes up his entire being.
You stop, finding a faded yellow flower sprouting from the ground. You bend down, pulling it up. Standing up, you stare at it in your hand, and you can’t help but wish it was alive.
You sigh, eyes closing, almost in defeat. But when you open them, you can’t believe what you see.
The flower is now a bright yellow, looking like it belongs in a vase full of fresh-cut daffodils.
It’s like the flower was resuscitated right between your fingers, finally getting the oxygen it so desperately needed.
There is no way you did this, so how is this possible?
Dinner is mostly eaten in silence. Some small talk is exchanged but you can tell Michael can barely bare it, gritting his teeth as you ask him how his day was.
Michael enjoys more intellectually stimulating conversation. It just so happens that usually means arguing with you or teasing you about something. So, you’re not very fond of it.
Once the plates are taken away, you think you can finally breathe, ready to take your leave to your room.
Just as you’re getting up, Michael stops you.
“Sit down. You haven’t had your dessert yet.”
“Dessert? We only have that on special occasions,” you retort, sitting back down.
“Well, you didn’t get to finish it the other day.”
You part your lips to question him again, but it’s answered when a maid places a plate in front of you.
A pomegranate split in half sits before you.
Michael seems to be waiting for your reaction when you lock eyes with him.
“What is with you and pomegranates?”
“They’re in season. I just want you try it.”
He leans back in his chair, giving a smile that doesn’t exactly reach his eyes. Instead, you find a glint there instead.
You nervously look down at the fruit, mulling over what he wants you to do.
You blink and you suddenly see that the red fruit has turned into a human heart, bloody and still beating.
You gasp, eyes widening as you push back your chair.
You look back to Michael, wondering if he sees it too. You’re met with a cold stare, his finger impatiently tapping on the table.
You frown, your eyes going back to the plate only to find the pomegranate.
Tears spring to your eyes as you consider the real fact that you’re losing your mind.
You don’t notice Michael getting up to stand next to you, your broken mind too caught up with all the peculiar things happening in the last couple of weeks.
He gently puts his hand on your shoulder, taking you out of the torment you’re putting yourself through.
By the time you turn to look at him, he has a few pomegranate seeds on his fingertips. You can smell the sweetness as he brings them closer to your lips.
“Don’t think about it. Just eat them,” he says as two of his fingers move past your lips and into your mouth.
You hum lowly in your throat as you taste how delicious they are, lips clasping tighter around Michael’s fingers, your tongue swirling around them.
He breaks the seal, removing his fingers before you swallow. He watches your throat move up and down, taking his offering.
You don’t miss the satisfied smirk on his plump lips.
It’s a night of tossing and turning. You’re able to sleep but it’s restless. Thoughts of Michael still lingering hours after he fed you the pomegranate.
When you’re finally able to sleep for more than an hour, you’re woken up by a scream similar to the one that woke you up weeks ago.
You know you heard it. It’s not in your imagination. No matter what Michael wants you to believe.
You don’t even think about it as you leave your bed, practically storming down the hall, deciding to leave behind a lit candle for light.
You pass Michael’s bedroom, getting closer to the faint sounds of cries and screams.
At the end of the hallway lies a singular door painted blood red.
You’ve never dared to go through it because when you arrived at the manor, you were told it is off limits.
Every time you would look at it, the hairs on your neck would stand up, giving you reason enough to never investigate it.
But now, you know you have to, tired of not knowing the truth.
When you step through the doorway, the air feels heavy, like all the light has been sucked out, only leaving a darkness that sits on your chest, making sure you cannot take a breath.
It’s pitch black, stairs going down to seemingly nowhere or possibly the pits of Hell. So, it’s either idiotic or suicidal why you decide to go down them.
Once you go down the stairs, a sweltering heat is the first thing you feel, like fire blistering your skin. It’s so bright down at the bottom of the stairs that it reflects in the irises of your eyes.
Hundreds of candles are lit with a few fires alongside them. The walls seem to be made of the earth, like a cave.
You don’t exactly understand what is going on, crouched at the bottom of the stairs spotting Michael walking toward a man sitting on the ground.
Cries and screams of “no” fall from the man as Michael brings a small knife to the man’s throat.
He slices it open, like a bleeding smile, his cries ceasing.
A sadistic smirk paints Michael’s lips, a satisfied one that is so similar to the one he had when he fed you the pomegranate seeds.
That’s when you notice everyone else. Bodies littered around the room, both alive and dead. Blood seeping from their various wounds. The ones who are alive seem to be chained to the floor or the walls, like they’re being tortured.
You can’t help the strangled cry that leaves your mouth, your stomach churning, thinking of the horror that the man you’re married to has been enacting.
You catch yourself, slapping a hand over your mouth. But it’s too late. He heard you.
Michael meets your gaze, and it only takes you a split second to get up and run back up the stairs.
You rush through the house, finding the front doors that keep you trapped inside this prison from the rest of the world.
You fling them open, running barefoot past the garden into the trees that border the manor.
Except just when you think you’re getting somewhere, you’re entering another door, one that goes right back inside the manor.
You look around with bewilderment, your mind racing to try and figure out what is going on. But you just end up hitting a brick wall, wanting to collapse into tears while nothing makes sense. You feel like the floor is moving, like your world has been tilted.
“Don’t cry, little witch.”
You turn to find Michael at the top of the main staircase, looking at you with a sort of curiosity and feigned sympathy.
“What?” you ask, voice cracking.
He continues down the stairs, stepping closer to you.
“Stay away from me,” you yell, voice still thick with tears. “I’m getting out of here.”
“You can try as long as you want to get away. But you’ll always end up back here.”
His looming figure is blurry as you blink away the tears.
You let him get closer, his thumb wiping your tear-stained cheeks.
“You poor thing.” You hear him mutter like you’re some naïve little lamb that needs to be protected.
“You’re stuck here,” he explains. “Those seeds you ate bound you here forever. With me, little witch,” he adds with a grumbling chuckle.
“Why do you keep calling me that?”
“You don’t remember,” he observes, tilting his head at you, like you’re his science experiment.
He thinks for a moment before continuing, “I suppose it would be better if you remembered. Then we really can have fun.”
Before you can protest or say anything, everything goes black.
Certain details are still fuzzy when you regain consciousness, but you remember it all.
You were a powerful witch in a coven. You remember your sisters and your Supreme, Cordelia.
You also remember him.
Cordelia made a deal. She knew who Michael really was, so she did anything she could to send him away, lock him up within the gates of Hell.
She had to make a sacrifice, and it just so happened to be you.
She came up with a loophole for you. The problem is that you couldn’t remember what it was when you arrived here.
You look around at your surroundings for the first time, finding yourself inside a circle of lit candles.
You try to move outside of the confines of the circle, but it’s like an invisible barrier is up.
You lie back down in defeat.
There is no fighting him or getting out. You ate the seeds of the pomegranate.
If enough time had passed without you eating them, you could’ve gotten away from here like Cordelia wanted.
Now you’ve sealed your fate. You’ve been promised to The Beast.
It’s not long before a door creaks open. The man you’ll be forced to spend eternity with, walks through the door.
“I imagine that was an enlightening nap,” he says, fighting off a mocking grin.
You swallow, keeping your eyes anywhere but on him.
“I was right that it would be better if you remember. I can feel the hatred coming off you. I like that more than indifference.”
He pauses, his eyes raking over your body, like he’s hungry and you’re his next meal.
“Of course, other feelings haven’t changed. You know, it was so hard not to say anything that day in the library when I could smell how wet you were.”
You finally turn to look at him, eyes widening at his casual vulgarity.
“Or any of the other times you were clenching your thighs together. And all because of me,” he adds, eyes full of mirth.
“You’re lying,” you argue, but you can’t deny how warm your cheeks are getting.
“Am I?” he challenges. “It really wouldn’t matter. You’re mine to do as I please with.”
You try to hide the waves of heat you feel, but you can’t successfully hide anything from him.
“What would your Supreme think if she knew how easily you gave into me? If she knew how much of a whore, you are?”
He walks around you in circles like you’re prey that he’s just playing with until he’s ready to feast.
It’s dizzying.
“Maybe I couldn’t stop Cordelia from trapping me here, but I knew I wasn’t going to let you go. Her silly plan with the pomegranates,” he laughs. “I was going to pull you down to the depths of Hell with me. Which is where you’ll be for the rest of eternity.”
You shake your head, wanting him to stop taunting you.
“You’re a monster, Michael,” you harshly say. “I’m sure you feel more at home here.”
He just gives you a humorless laugh, something cruel settling in his eyes.
“Cordelia doesn’t care about you. Her hatred for me outweighed whatever love she had for you. She’s probably forgotten all about you.”
You try to pretend that his words don’t claw at your chest.
“But if I’m going to have my little witch by my side,” he continues. “She can’t be an insolent one.”
You instantly regret hurling any insults at him.
“I think it’s time you learn how things are going to work around here.”
He steps inside the circle, barely giving you time to move out of his way.
“On your knees. Now,” he says, his voice sounding gravelly.
You scramble to kneel at his second command.
“Tell me, little witch. Who’s your God?”
You look up at him, confusion in your eyes.
“What?”
The palm of his hand meets your cheek, moving your head to the side. A slight sting burns your skin.
“Let’s try that again. Who is your God?”
You just shake your head, trying not to let the tears fall from your eyes.
His palm slaps your other cheek, the same biting feeling spreading through your face.
“We can keep doing this until you get it right.”
At least when Michael walked the earth, he had many people to subject his torture too. Now, he just has you. And any other sorry soul that might cross his path, you think. The image of crimson pouring from that man’s neck is still burned into your mind.
“You, Michael. You’re my God,” you defeatedly say.
“And how should you worship your God?”
You catch his gaze, unsure how to answer.
All he does is move his hand to undo his pants, unzipping them until you get what he means.
Your eyelashes flutter as you move your face closer to his cock.
He’s already hard, so you give a small lick to his tip, tasting the salty evidence of his arousal.
He watches you start to put his cock into your mouth and down your throat.
A groan falls from his lips as you begin to fuck him with your throat, spit spilling out of your mouth as you choke on his size.
He puts a hand to the back of your head, helping you to take almost all of him. You can feel your own arousal coating your inner thighs.
“I knew you were good for something,” he says as you gag a little.
He surprises you by pulling you off him, letting you fall onto your ass while your drool hits your chin.
He’s quick to grab you, pinning you to the floor as he puts his weight on top of you.
“I want you to feel me cum inside you.”
He doesn’t waste any time before he rips your white nightgown off you, seeing your naked body for the first time.
His own clothes come off and you hate that even if you know how much of a monster he is, all you can think about is him fucking you.
His hands have your wrists underneath them, pushed into the cold hard floor. You can’t move if you wanted to, but you don’t think you would anyway.
All you do is blink, and his face has changed. His skin is paler with cracks running through it, almost like cement. And his eyes have gone black, no light or emotion to be seen, just darkness, an overwhelming evil you’ve never seen or felt before.
It frightens you. His body is colder as he pushes inside you, a growl coming from deep in his throat.
He doesn’t care to wait for you to adjust, he’s rough in his thrusts, setting a pace that already leaves you gasping for air.
“Michael,” you cry out. “It hurts.”
You know you sound pathetic which is almost worse than how full you feel, your cunt stretching to accommodate the size of him.
“Good,” is all he says.
He licks and bites at your breasts, playing with your nipples between his fingers. It’s both pain and pleasure and it drives you insane. You can feel him deep inside you, the tip of his cock hitting that soft spot nestled in you.
You wrap your legs around him, your walls clenching around him.
He kisses your cheeks, wet with tears from the pain you have felt. He just licks it up, finding your pain to be delicious.
His lips drag against your throat, teeth nipping at the delicate skin.
He whispers, “I can’t wait to see you swollen with my baby. Evidence of how you belong to me.”
You can feel your pussy squeeze him at the thought, the coil in your stomach getting tighter and tighter.
He captures your lips in a sloppy kiss as he moves his hand down to rub your aching bundle of nerves.
It’s enough for the coil to snap. It’s only moments later when you feel him twitch inside you, coating your walls with his cum. He bites down on your shoulder, and you cry out in pain as he laps up the blood that seeps from the wound, soothing it with his tongue.
He’s breathless as he collapses on top of you, his skin going back to its usual color.
Your mind isn’t clouded with pleasure anymore, but you bring a hand to the curls on his head anyway.
He moves his head slightly to look at you, a smirk forming on his lips.
“If only Cordelia could see you now.”
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kaislittlelamb · 6 months
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tate langdon x fem!reader nsfw headcanons
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Warning ⚠️: NSFW! sex, oral sex, all types of sex. it’s Tate Langdon, duh.
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• this boy is needy as fuck.
• he’s dead. he’s got nothing better to do than fuck you at any given opportunity. like multiple times a day if you’ll let him.
• when he’s not fucking you, he’ll likely watch you secretly whenever you’re naked and he’ll touch himself. god he loves seeing you naked. especially whenever you take showers. that’s his favorite entertainment.
• touches himself in bed beside you when you’re sleeping too. if his own hand just isn’t enough, you’ll wake up to his cock stuffed between your thighs as he tries to take care of his little problem.
• this boy is far from vanilla. don’t get me wrong, sex with Tate can be casual at times. but he has all of the time in the world. he wants to explore everything with you.
• he’s definitely a switch.
• he plays the dominant part so well. he can be rough, sadistic, anything to hear you scream his name. he wants the whole house to hear.
• but he also definitely subs. he loves to be praised and taken care of. will breastfeed and call you mommy. loves having his hair played with and will beg for permission to cum.
• he loves the name calling. when he’s being dominant, you call him daddy. when he’s being submissive, he calls you mommy.
• he’s possessive as fuck.
• will make you call him daddy in front of other people. he wants everyone to know that you’re his.
• loves knowing that other ghosts in the house can see him fucking your brains out. he wants to be seen.
• kinky lil shit loves fucking you around your parents and any visitors. will bend you over across the room and secretly take you from behind.
• and whenever you’re on the phone he’s definitely got his head buried between your thighs, working magic on your folds to make it nearly impossible for you to hold a conversation.
• his favorite position is doggy when he’s in control, so he can take you from behind as hard as he wants. pull your hair, spank you, shove your face into the sheets, etc.
• when he’s submissive, he loves when you ride him. loves to see your breasts bounce and suck on them. also loves to be edged, completely under your control. his whines are so pretty.
• oh, and he definitely brings out the latex suit.
(Thanks for reading! Feel free to leave requests.)
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newwavesylviaplath · 5 days
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real estate agents who advertise on city buses:
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lanawintersenthusiast · 5 months
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new obsession: kai andersons back 😍
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fear-is-truth · 5 days
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lilyflowerhere · 1 year
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Teachers, am I right?
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sad-girl101 · 11 days
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sometimes pookie bear princess is a 37 year old man ౨ৎ
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malfoyx · 9 months
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Cody Fern via Instagram
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allyisrotting17 · 3 months
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she would understand me
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t4tesgirl · 8 months
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We love we stan
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screamsfinalgirl · 6 months
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favorite american horror story boy 🫀
The Michael Langdon better known as the Antichrist
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barbiedragon · 11 months
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Hi. Could I get 10 and 6 with Michael Langdon
👀 👀  Yes indeed! Michael, my beloved 🖤🖤🖤
Prompt List
WC: 1.2 k
Warnings: Breath play, scratching, Dom!Michael, penetration
*comment/reblogs are appreciated
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The final preparations were made as you began to prepare to depart for the sanctuary with Michael.  His golden hair almost touched his shoulders now, and you were secretly thrilled he had taken your advice to grow it out.  You walked over to where he was seated in front of his laptop, taking in the sight of the heavy black jeweled ring that rested on his forefinger.
“Did you need something?” he hummed as he flicked his blue eyes in your direction.  You had gotten lost in the thought of his long, nimble fingers and strong hands.
“Oh um, just wanted to check in and see if everything was in order,” you replied before your tongue darted across your lips.
“Just a few more pieces to move into place, our flight leaves in the morning,” Michael replied as he rested his cheek gently against his hand, thumb curved under his chin and forefinger against his temple.  It only made the current thoughts inside your head spin faster, churning slightly darker.
“Just about done packing,” you whispered.
His plush lips curved into an amused smile.  “Great, I appreciate you taking care of that for us,” he said before he reached out his other hand to pull you into his lap.  Sometimes you wondered if he could read your mind.
“Something’s on your mind,” he whispered.  Fucking….how the fuck…this little shit.  Moving his hand from his face, he began to trace it up your thigh then across your side before his palm rested against your collarbone.  His fingers felt impossibly warm.  Anointed with hellfire.
“What makes you say that?” you murmured as your pulse quickened.
He didn’t say anything, but you could feel the smirk.  His thumb traced over the throbbing vein in your throat.  “Use your words.  The instruction was clear and firm.
“Look, I’m not into choking but I wouldn’t mind if you grabbed me by the neck every once in a while.”  The admission came toppling from your lips faster than you had anticipated.
“Are you sure that’s what you want? I could really hurt you.”
“I trust you…. besides I’ve found some instruction guides, I’ll share them with you.  I want some fun, but I’m not keen on getting asphyxiated to death,” you snorted.
An amused chuckle vibrated in his chest as those long fingers wrapped gently around his neck while his nose nuzzled the warm patch of skin just below your ear.
“Well then, allow me to get informed.”  He took hold of your chin to pull your face close to his before pressing a hard kiss to your lips.  Giddiness overtook you when your tongues pressed together.  Then Michael gave you a little shove off his lap so off you went to finish putting everything together for the departure tomorrow.  You know…. before the whole world went to hell.
Later that evening you were sprawled under him.  Naked in the warm room as those hands roamed across your body, squeezing every inch of your flesh.  A thumb brushed lightly across your erect nipple, making you squirm, while your bent knee gently rubbed against your thigh.  You could taste the pulse in your throat as his hand crept closer and closer toward your neck.
“You still want this?” he purred.  Fingers wrapped lightly around your throat.
“Please,” you begged.
“I can hear your heart pounding.  Like a little lamb caught by the lion,” Michael smirked.  The pressure he applied was still very light, but it was enough to make you feel dizzy.
“A very feracious lion with sharp teeth, easy to rip me apart.”
“You like that don’t you, baby?  The danger, the excitement.  You drip with sin.”  The tone in his voice dropped an octave.  
“Sin brought us together, my little devil,” you couldn’t help but tease.  The two of you had found each other through the Church of Satan.  You’d never forget the pathetic-looking young man who wandered in one evening looking like a scared, lost little rat.  Look at him now.  Coming into his own, into his power.  Ready to bring the end of the world.  Fuck, it made your clit throb.
The pressure tightened around your throat.  “Now if you need to loosen my grip take your fist and pound it twice on the bed.”  You did so, letting him know you understood the direction loud and clear.  “If you need me to stop everything entirely, three pounds.”  Again, you demonstrated to show you heard and understood.  “Good girl.”
His hand slipped further up your neck, settling under your jaw and against the sides, where the pulse pounded, and the carotid arteries rested.  Your eyes were blown wide with lust as Michael applied a firm squeeze that lasted about five seconds.  His cock was heavy against your thigh, and you could feel the pre-cum leaking onto your flesh.  When his hand released from your neck, you took the opportunity to speak.
“Please Michael, put your cock inside me,” you whined.
You pulled a knee back toward your chest as his free hand settled on your opposite hip.  You reached down to palm his cock before helping to guide him inside of your dripping pussy.  A soft groan rumbled from him before he gave a soft roll of his hips.  You were stuffed full of him, and it felt so fucking good.  Blond hair stuck to his cheeks and shoulders as the heat flooded the room.  He tended to have that effect.  Your little devil baby.
“Next time I’ll have to take a picture of you just like this. So, you can see how beautiful and needy you are with my cock inside of you, ready to take you apart, my little lamb.”  The rasp in his voice made a moan spill from your parted lips.
“Michael, please,” you huffed as you dragged your nails slowly down his back to help spur him on.
The hand around your throat squeezed again as he gave a powerful thrust.  The dizziness came flooding back.  Another squeeze matched with a thrust had you mewling.  The next one lasted a bit longer and matched the pressure building inside of your body.  It was a euphoric feeling.  Little bright white stars danced behind your eyelids while his cock took you apart.
“So beautiful, little lamb, I could sink my teeth into you, rip you apart piece by piece.  Yet you’d still beg for more.”
Pleasure slithered through your entire body; hot white little snakes ready to burst forth.  You hated how right he was.  The only response you could give was a wobbling lower lip before all the bands snapped and you soaked his cock after another squeeze to your throat.  His fingers released before he pressed his palm next to the side of your head as his hips snapped hard against your pelvis.  It made you rock forward before you felt the warm spurt of release inside of you.  Ecstasy shivered through your veins.
When he pulled out, you shuddered at the loss of contact along with the little drip of his mess down your thighs.  Your pouting was eased by the sight of his round ass after he climbed off the bed and went to procure some wipes to clean up with.  You basked in the aftermath, wrapped around his side with your upper half against his chest, legs tucked between his.  Fingers twirled around the locks of his golden hair.
“Michael?”
“Hmm?”
“Next time, could you leave marks?”
You watched his lips twitch into a smirk.
“My filthy little lamb!  I would love nothing more,” he replied, a mischievous twinkle in his blue eyes.
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multific · 3 months
Text
Hail Us
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Michael Langdon x Reader
Summary: A short Christmas tale.
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You moved to your knees in front of the cross.
You prayed.
You prayed for good fortune, for health and peace.
Hail Satan.
You prayed for your husband's plans to go smoothly. You prayed for your soul to be damned along with his. 
And in return, you will continue to praise your only and true Lord, Satan.
Hail Satan.
You already gave yourself and your entire life to his son, Michael.
You did so because of love.
As simple as that was. Love.
You stood up and took another look at the upside-down cross.
With a smile on your face, you turn around only to see Michael standing behind you.
"My father must truly like you. You pray and he gives. I feel as if he likes you more than me, his son."
"He sure has a soft spot for me. But I believe it is fair. I am his daughter-in-law and I help you achieve your dreams. No need to be jealous."
"I'm more jealous that you spend time on your knees praying to my father instead of me." you smiled as you moved over to him, running your fingers down his defined cheekbones.
"I'm rather hungry, can we eat?" your distraction always worked.
Every time you were hungry, tired or thirsty, Michael was immediately on his feet, ready to help you.
Michael made sure you had the best meals.
"What did you pray for this time?" he asked during dinner.
"For him to grand my wishes. For us to be together forever. For our future to be filled with death and pain. Just like I always do." 
"You are so perfect. I still can't believe they thought you wanted to be on their side."
"My future is by your side. They were only a stepping stone for me to find you."
Michael smiled, recalling his youth and how much pain it caused him, but ever since he found you, he was more than okay.
"Merry Christmas, My Love." he raised his glass and you did the same.
"Hail Michael Langdon," you replied with a smirk.
"Hail Y/N Langdon, the bride of the Anti-Christ. The witch who's name brings fear into everyone's soul. The woman who made me into a real man, to live to my potential and be who I was always meant to be. Hail us."
"I love you so much, Michael."
"And I love you, Y/N."
The snow was falling outside as you continued your dinner.
And indeed, what a Christmas it was.
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