Chills (Michael Langdon Imagine)
Hello there, fellow humans! Or maybe not, I’m not sure. Anyway, this is my first fanfiction for American Horror Story and for Michael, so I hope you like it. This is nsfw, so please proceed with caution. I’ll put some warnings in, so if any of that makes you uncomfortable, then please do not read. My requests are open, so you can check the list of people who I write for and then send in a request!
WARNINGS: VERY SPICY bondage, blindfold, mentions of blood, knife , mentions of scars, hints of master and daddy kinks... hickeys and bites... yeah uh enjoy?
You know that one scene from Apocalypse when they had Evan Peters in that room? Yeah that.
The piercing cold of the room was something that felt impossible to get used to. Rooms shouldn’t be allowed to be this cold, there should be some type of law against it. Your body shuddered, trying to warm yourself up, but there was no use. You were just going to have to be cold.
It didn’t help that you had chains attached to your wrists and ankles, spreading you out like the vitruvian man model, a perpetual jumping jack. Even as you pulled against them, the metal wasn’t going to budge, keeping you in place. There was only maybe a centimeter of movement, but not enough to pull your arms into your body to be able to free yourself. Face it, you’re trapped.
To top it all off, there was a blindfold covering your eyes. It wasn’t tied tightly, and it moved just a little, but you were still blinded for the most part. The material felt soft and silky, and it was difficult, almost impossible to see through the black cloth.
Your back stung, the pain burning, and if given the chance, you were sure you could trace the raised marks on your back. Let’s just say that some people hadn’t taken too kindly to how... close, you seemed to be with the new visitor from The Cooperative. This displeasure had now taken the form of raised lines along your back, left exposed to the cold air of the chilling room. The cold and hot sensations were conflicting, adding a new level of discomfort here.
Any thoughts you’d been having were interrupted, the sound of boots hitting the concrete floor echoing through the space. You couldn’t exactly see it, but with the way it echoed, you had to be in a larger room. Involuntarily, your body shivered, this time not from the temperature. You could tell who was now in front of you just based on how he walked, to you, the sound was unmistakable.
Nothing was said for a moment, and you could feel his eyes gazingover your figure. Currently, you didn’t have on a shirt, courtesy of Ms. Venable and Ms. Mead, but at least you still had underwear. But was that a blessing or a curse? Because that’s really all they’d left you.
You could hear the sound of Michae’s breathing, and soon you could feel it ghosting over your skin, the air warm against the places it made contact. It was almost as if his hands were hovering over you, but not quite touching. Not yet anyway.
He let out a low chuckle, and you could almost hear the smile in his voice when he spoke. “Lovely. It’s a pity I don’t get to see you like this more often.” He let his hand gently trail down your side, leaving goosebumps in its wake.
You laughed slightly, the sound almost bitter. “You can’t keep trying to capture me. I’m starting to think this is less about some evil plan and more because you’re lonely.”
He shook his head, grinning at you, even if you couldn’t see. “Lonely? No.” He moved his hand to trail down your chest, moving painfully slowly as he stopped just above your waistline. “You just look so beautiful tied up for me, and it’s hard to resist seeing,” he mused, and his body just felt closer to yours.
The words made you blush, and everything in you wanted to hide yourself, but that was literally impossible at the moment. The best you could do was turn your head to the side, as if that made any difference. But soon you felt his strong hand on your jaw, pulling your face back to him.
“Oh, don’t start with this now, darling,” he sighed. “You know I don’t like it when you look away.”
“I can’t even see you, so what difference does it make?” you snapped, and you knew that would probably get you in trouble, but you were feeling ballsy. Even if you were tied and couldn’t move, but that goes under the rug.
“Oh, so you want to talk back, do you?” he asked, laughing a little. His one hand moved and cupped your cheek, his fingers tracing your jaw line. “That just won’t do.” His touch disappeared, and you could hear his footsteps slowly circling to be behind you.
It felt like ages, but it was merely a few seconds. His body was just hovering centimeters from yours, but his presence was almost overwhelming. Your body shuddered, just waiting for him to touch you.
Your wish was finally granted, and his chest pressed into your back, his one arm snaking around your waist to pull you close against him. His other hand moved, but you couldn’t feel it.
That is, until a cool metal pressed against the skin of your throat, trailing just a little, but not enough to cut.
You swallowed, trying your best to hold your head up so that your skin wouldn’t get sliced from the blade. His hand around your waist gave a hard squeeze, stilling all of your motions.
“Now, don’t move, sweetheart,” he growled in your ear, making your breath hitch. “Because if you move, this will cut you, and I would hate to have to clean your pretty blood off the floor,” he added, his tongue flicking out to lick the shell of your ear for just a second. “And we wouldn’t want that, would we?”
It took you a second to realize he wanted you to answer, but when his knee gently pushed the spot between your spread legs, you got the message.
“N-no sir,” you whispered, the words strangled as you tried not to move too much.
“I can’t hear you,” he taunted, knowing damn well that he could hear you loud and clear. The room echoed after all.
Damn him. “No sir,” you repeated, this time loud enough for it to echo for a second or two.
“That’s my good girl.” With that, he moved his hand to trail down the lashes you had on your back. The skin was still tender and sensitive, and your body spasmed for just a second each time he touched it. You grit your teeth, trying to still your motions, but the actions were involuntary. You just made sure to not move your head.
“Don’t worry. I’ll take care of you,” he whispered. He moved to place small kisses on each of the raised lines, inevitably moving the knife away from your throat. You took the chance to catch your breath, still trying not to flinch, otherwise he’d get angry.
He let his knife rest against your side, the cool metal pressing into your bare skin. He let it trail down to the backs of your thighs, occasionally leaving little nicks, enough for you to gasp each time.
“You like that?” he asked, his other hand traveling to your underwear line.
“M-maybe,” you answered, squirming just a touch at the contact. His hand traveled a little lower, making you gasp at the contact, attempting to lean into his hand some.
“I think we both know the answer to that one,” he said, letting his fingers travel where he wanted them to. Each touch made you whimper, desperate for more, wanting more of him. All of him.
You just whined, trying to press your body into his hand, but your chains made it hard to do that, and it was just you desperately pulling against them. He laughed, moving his hand away, making you groan with frustration.
“Be a big girl, use your words,” he teased, pressing a kiss into your shoulder. “Tell me what you want,” he ordered.
You sighed, shaking a little bit with the suspension. “P-please, I want you to touch me,” you started, your brain picking up speed as you just got desperate. “I want to feel you and I want you inside of me. Use your hands, use your knife, I don’t care,” you begged. “Please, daddy,” you added, knowing that it was his kryptonite, “make me feel good.”
Michael made a low sort of groan, moving his body back to push into you. “How could I say no when you ask so nicely?” he replied. He moved to position his head closer towards your neck, the spot where it meets your shoulder. You felt his teeth sinking into your flesh, making you cry out. He left a big bite mark, this one deep and you knew it wouldn’t heal for a while. You also knew it was only the first of many to come.
His hand moved back down to your underwear, pulling it a little. Considering he couldn’t pull it all the way down your legs, he used the knife to cut the fabric off, tossing the garment aside. Now, you were completely exposed and at his mercy.
“I’ve got you chained up, and I have you all to myself for hours,” he mused, his hand slowly creeping towards where you wanted it to be. “Are ready for me?”
“Yes sir,” you answered, your body clenching as you just waited.
“Good girl,” he said, and then he finally gave you the contact you’d been desperate for, causing you to moan and you could hear it echo through the room, back to your own ears.
He really did spend hours in there with you, taking absolutely no breaks. This man would keep you on edge for god knows how long, and then he’d blow your brains out. Your chest heaved, your nipples red and swollen, your body so far past exhaustion that you were sure you were headed to delirium. At some point, the blindfold had been pulled off, and you could see it on the floor somewhere. You could feel the combined juices running down your legs and dripping to the floor below you. There were a few blood droplets, too, and you had some new scars to add to your little collection, along with more hickeys that littered your body and bruises from grips that were just a little too hard.
The sound of both of your breathing filled the room, and you tried desperately to keep your eyes open, but you could feel sleep trying to overtake you. You were expecting that your wrists and ankles would soon be freed, but that wasn’t happening. You could hear Michael dressing, and you turned to look over your shoulder at him.
“Are you going to let me down?” you panted, completely spent. Even if he did let you down, you had no clue if you even had the energy to walk all the way back to your room, let alone get dressed.
“You need help getting down?” he asked, as if he didn’t realize you couldn’t free yourself.
“Well, duh,” you said, shaking your chains a little bit.
He walked over in front of you, grabbing your face and tipping your chin so that you were looking at him, and he pulled you in for a kiss. When he pulled away, he let go, smirking a little. “I’m sorry, darling, but I can’t. I have some business to attend to upstairs.” He started to walk away, stopping after a second. “Who knows? Maybe Mrs. Mead will find you and get you down. Or I’ll come back before she can,” he suggested.
“Wait, wait, you can’t just-“ but he was already gone, his footsteps receding down the hallway.
You yelled, screamed, but your voice was already hoarse from earlier. You tried desperately to wiggle free from the chains, but it was just as useless as before. You hung your head, your eyes just happening to see the little puddle of fluids on the floor, and you sighed.
That meant that someone else was going to have to find you like this, and the thought sent a flush of embarrassment to your face. But you didn’t have too much time to worry about that now, because you were falling asleep. You closed your eyes, and sleep overtook you. While you slept, you were left there, just waiting for someone to come find you and maybe help clean you up, and maybe walk, because damn were you sore.
