#f&r!michael

[codyfernmorelikedaddyfern]

Michael Langdon:

Me:

[ahsbitch]

50 for mikey pwease💖- michaellangdonstanaccount

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Stay still, You thought to yourself, taking shallow breaths through your nose, Stay still.

“You’re such a good cock warmer,” Michael purred, bringing one hand down to stroke down your cheek tenderly, before giving you a harsh slap. You let out a whine at the feeling and then in a moment his fingers were in your hair, tugging your head back so that he could look you in the face, “Quiet, pet. Making noise is just as bad as moving.”

Sorry, You thought as loudly as you could, hoping that he would hear your thoughts, and he gave you a snarling smile as he pulled his hand from your hair, your head dropping back into position. 

The tip of his cock brushed your throat at the shift, almost making you gag. You flexed the muscles in your arms, which were tied behind your back, to concentrate on not moving. 

You’d been on your knees like this for an hour, ankles and wrists bound, focusing solely on holding Michael in your mouth.

He looked like an angel from this position, like a god, your vision prickled at the edge with tears from holding your mouth open so wide and from so long, the light behind his head making him glow. He was reading, occasionally sipping wine and snacking. For most of the time he had been silent, acting as though he didn’t even realize you were there, although every once in a while he would scratch the top of your head gently, much like you were a cat perched in his lap. 

He’s so pretty.

“You look so pretty,” He told you, as though he’d just read your mind, and in fact he probably had, “This should be your full time job. What else do you really need to be doing with your life?”

Nothing, Straining your muscles to keep from moving, you almost let out a gasp when Michael’s magic started to dance along your skin. 

“Naked and tied up and doing exactly what you’re told. You’re a good girl, do you know that? A good little pet for me.”

You certainly hoped so. 

The magic, the feeling of soft touches just barely present, began to spread. It rolled across your nipples, buzzed your neck and collarbones, drifted lazily down your thighs. 

“I think you deserve a reward for being so good for me,” Michael’s eyes were piercing, although you weren’t looking at his face anymore you could feel his hot and heavy gaze on you, “Do you think you deserve a reward, pet?”

No, Desperately, you flexed your thighs as the magic began to stroke against your clit, trying desperately to keep yourself still, No, you didn’t deserve a reward. Didn’t deserve anything, didn’t even deserve to be in Michael’s very presence. Didn’t deserve to even look at him, much less touch him, much less get the pleasure of holding his dick in your mouth. You did it because he needed to relax, because you were desperate to please him, desperate to make him feel good, but you didn’t deserve it or anything else. 

The magic was moving faster, beginning to spread down to your entrance, the pressure on your clit increasing ever so slightly, vibrating wildly. 

Michael’s hand drifted down to your throat, squeezing it gently, his thumb stroking over the small bulge that came from his cock, “If I let you move your arms and legs, you’ll still hold your mouth still, won’t you?”

Of course.

He snapped, and you rolled your ankles although you stayed on your knees, and you did your best to stretch out your arms and shoulders while keeping your neck and head in place. 

You shifted ever so slightly and Michael’s grip tightened, the magic that was starting to creep toward your g-spot, making you tremble, disappeared suddenly, “Stay still.”

Sorry.

The magic was back, more forceful this time, and you let out a slow and croaky moan in spite of yourself.

Fuck.

Gone again, and Michael looked disgusted, “You were doing so well for me before, and now you can’t even follow basic instructions? I’m disappointed, pet.”

You were crying before you knew it, tears dripping down your cheeks, and you squeezed your fingers around your hips to bring yourself back to the present.

“Tears?” Michael tsked, crooning mockingly, “You’re weeping from both your eyes and your pussy now, I know you are, I’ve been able to smell you this whole time. I wasn’t going to say anything, of course, but you’re just so desperate for me. You’re dripping, aren’t you? Making a big mess? Are you prepared to have to clean that up later? Silly little pet, it’s okay, calm your tears. I’ll give you another chance to make it up to me, to make me proud.”

Perking up at that, you blinked the tears out of your eyes desperately. You would do anything if it meant he was proud of you. 

The magic was back once more, inside you and against your clit and over your breasts and touching every single sensitive part of your body, moving fast, pressure dark and hot, and once again you constricted your muscles to try and keep from losing track of things, letting yourself move.

“Five minutes, with my magic touching you for me. If you cum, if you move your head, if you make a noise, you’ll have to be punished. But if you can keep being good for me, you’ll get the reward of your life, my sweet pet. Are you ready?”

Readier than you’d ever been. 

[langdxn]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[ahsbitch]

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

Word Count: 3228

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And he had begun to take great notice of it.

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

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

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

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

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

Yeah, until he started doing stuff like that. 

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

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

Dammit, he was frustrated. 

Frustrated Michael could be particularly difficult to deal with. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Tell me some?” 

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

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

“I prefer to think of myself as adaptable.”

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

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

Michael watched you leave, musing over your words. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What wouldn’t you say yes to? 

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

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

Always that same damn smile.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Holy fuck.

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

Where exactly were you meant to go with this? 

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

“Yes, Mr. Langdon.”

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

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

Probably because they cost more than your apartment. 

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

Probably. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck, you were going to kill him. 

“What if I wanted you to?” 

“Then I would.”

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

“Yes, Mr. Langdon.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I told you not to be greedy.”

“Sorry, Mr. Langdon.”

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

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

Surely, surely you would say no to this. 

“Yes, Mr. Langdon.” 

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

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

Did he want you to answer? 

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

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

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

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

Fucking hell.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, Mr. Langdon?”

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

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

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

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

[langdxn]

Hi, I hope you are well with all the pandemic going on? I know you already write about the different stages of Michael when you give birth. But what about Fire & Reign! Michael having twins (girl and boy)? Thank you 🙏

Ahh thank you darling, I’m just about surviving here! How are things with you? Ooft this is a wonderful idea, thank you so much!

Fire & Reign Michael may be a busy bee, flitting from meeting to meeting, jetting across the country to survey Outpost constructions and, of course, Kineros. But he’s a completely devoted family man and work will always stay second place to his brood.

The apartment door abruptly swings open as Michael stumbles through, his black coat billowing behind him with every frantic stride.

“Princess?” He calls out in a panic, eyes darting around your apartment seeking you out but finding nothing — an empty couch, an empty kitchen, an empty hallway. “You haven’t answered your phone for an hour, is everything okay?”

His breaths staccato and shallow, Michael storms toward your bedroom where the soft bedside nightlight radiates its warm amber glow out into the hall.

“Sweetheart you’re scaring me, are the babies okay?”

Blind terror washes over his countenance, lips parted and eyes popping from their sockets as his vision blurs into a kaleidoscope of fear, dreading the scene he could find beyond the bedroom door. A remnant of his Murder House upbringing, his instant reaction to lack of communication usually meant tragedy, murder, death.

Gripping the doorframe so hard his fingers turn an agonisingly tense white, he takes a deep breath and yanks himself through.

“Baby are you—“

His breath stalls in his throat as he registers the sight before him — the curtains drawn before sunset, both babies sleeping softly in their cots, you dozing sprawled face-down over the width of the bed with your hands still gripping a baby’s bottle.

If his shouting throughout the penthouse wasn’t enough to wake you up, his sigh of relief surely would.

He steps tentatively to the side of the bed, running a reassuring hand up your arm as you starfish from corner to corner of the mattress. You’re surrounded by baby towels and onesies, empty bottles and scrunched-up baby wipes, a path of destruction surrounding your weary body. By all accounts, a parental warzone invaded your queen-sized bed.

Michael’s gaze travels to the two cots beside the bed, with both of your beautiful babies wrapped up like burritos, gently sighing as they sleep. Tentatively making his way to their side, a comforting smile curls across his lips.

“Looks like you two have worn mommy right out today,” he sighs contentedly, gazing down at his two most beautiful achievements safely in the land of nod. “No wonder she didn’t answer her calls, she was too busy running around after the terrible twosome in here.”

Turning to watch you sleeping comfortably for the first time since you fell pregnant with Michael’s twins, a wry smile curls his lips as he leans in to whisper to the two sleeping burritos.

“Please stay quiet while mommy sleeps, little ones. She’s worked so hard and she never asks for help because I’m always so busy with the Cooperative.”

Michael grabs a nearby throw and drapes it over your exhausted body, planting a delicate peck on the back of your head.

“Let’s give her as much time to sleep as she needs to recover, yeah? Are you with me, Medina? How about you, Jim?”

[langdxn]

“If you leave the house wearing that then the second you get back home I’m going to bend you over that bed.” w/ F&R! Michael.

Oh my ovaries 💥💥 Thank you for this major girl boner, anon!

With a stack of Cooperative paperwork on Outpost construction and a number of unread emails from Mutt and Jeff at Kineros Robotics, you safely assumed Michael wouldn’t even notice you sneaking out for a friend’s housewarming party.

Casting a brief glance in his direction, his eyes idly flicking from line to line on a page of endless text on his laptop, you skirted past his office toward the front door.

“If you leave the house wearing that then the second you get back home, I’m going to bend you over that bed.”

Shit.

What gave you away? Was it the clanking of your Jimmy Choos on the immaculately polished floorboards? Was it your keys jangling as you picked them up from the sideboard? Or was it simply his intuition?

You froze at the door, mouth agape as you processed his words.

“Wha—what was that honey?” You called out innocently, slowly stepping back toward the office doorway.

“You heard me just fine, Mrs Langdon.”

Emerging before him, you leaned dramatically against the doorframe, one leg propped up against the wood so your crimson silk dress flowed over your knee. You grasped a handful of the cool material, holding it in front of you.

“What’s wrong with this, dear husband?”

“There’s nothing wrong with it,” his honey-like tone dripped slowly as he raised from his desk and stepped toward you. “Quite the contrary.”

He paced closer with his hands clasped behind his back, expensive boots chinking with every footfall before he stopped an inch from you , lips hovering against yours and his soft breaths grazing your cheeks. He stared at every inch of your face, intently observing the layers of flawless makeup and tilting his head to examine closer.

“Red eyeshadow,” he described, glaring at the curve of your nose up to your brow accented by a brilliant scarlet shadow. “Interesting.”

“It’s... something I’m trying out,” you nervously shifted your feet, awaiting his next observation. He raised a hand to pinch your chin and lift your head up for a closer inspection, this time his glare fell on your ruby red lipstick. Tugging gently on your chin to open your mouth, Michael moaned under his breath as he watched your lips form a relaxed ‘O’ shape.

“I think this would look better wrapped around my cock,” he hummed. “Don’t you?”

You nodded weakly as your gaze locked with his, those familiar baby blues boring into your soul as his hand trailed down to the valley of your breasts. Your breaths became sharp and staccato, straining to ignore the temptation to discard your plans and pin Michael down to his desk for the rest of the evening. Sliding his light fingertips over your silken dress, Michael’s tongue darted out to lick his lips.

“This would look much nicer hanging from the chandelier, wouldn’t you say darling?”

Clearing your throat and nodding again as your back arched into his touch, his hand traversed agonisingly slowly down to your hips, pausing tentatively for a moment as his fingers rested in the curves of your skin that he was so familiar holding. He blinked frantically, hoping you hadn’t seen the temporary chink in his armour. His palms brushed down to grasp the hem of your dress, hitching it up in one fluid motion enabling his fingertips to trail towards your heat.

Your one defence from his electric touch were the black lace panties you selected that afternoon, the very same pair Michael found instantly irresistible whenever he caught you wearing them.

“Michael...”

You swallowed hard and panted rapidly as he lifted your dress to see your underwear, anticipating a passionate clinch with Michael taking you there and then against the doorway. Instead, as his gaze fell on the lace, already dampened beneath your entrance, he dropped your dress and stepped back while the silk tumbled to your knees and swirled idly.

“I trust you’ll have a pleasant evening, Mrs Langdon.” Michael’s stern tone accompanied his hands returning to clasp behind his back. “Call me when you plan on returning and I’ll have a car pick you up.”

You froze on the spot, glaring at Michael as he left you hanging, practically dripping from his advances.

“Uh—umm, okay...” you sighed despondently, flattening your dress and preparing to walk out with your head dipped low.

“Oh and darling,” Michael added as you turned you on your heels to see him sinking into his office chair.

“Make sure you’re not wearing those panties when you walk back through this door.”

[langdxn]

Okay, I have a request: smut with reader, Michael and Duncan and the breeding kink of both!!

Oops this is 2k words long but I was having a little too much fun! Thank you so goddamn much anon, this request was beyond amazing 🖤🖤🖤

Of course, the Shepherds sold their souls to Satan in exchange for salvation when the end of days came to pass. Annette revelled in the privilege that membership of the Cooperative provided — relocating from DC to Outpost 3 would simply have to be an agreeable move for her clan when the apocalypse came knocking.

To give thanks for their fortunate situation, the Shepherds hosted a formal gala for their fellow soon-to-be survivors and their saviours. One of the final times you would have to entertain republicans and Satanists together, at least above ground anyway, you decided now was the right time to bring your unconventional relationship with a Shepherd and the Antichrist out of the shadows of masked Cooperative meetings.

As Ms Underwood excused herself from your company, cradling her swelling bump, Duncan swallowed harshly and cinched you into him by the waist. His fingertips dipped protectively into the red dress draped over your figure, a gown your two boys deliberated over for many hours before you left your apartment that morning. Somehow, you’d managed to land the two most well-dressed men this side of the moon and they almost revelled in deciding your attire for you. If it were up to you, jeans and a t shirt would suffice. Luckily enough, it wasn’t up to you.

“What’s the matter, Shepherd?” You asked with a forced smile for your company, breathing a sigh of relief as the President drew further and further from earshot. The blonde made her way over to Michael, currently circulating with a group of republicans with Ms Mead in tow.

Duncan’s hand landed with purpose on your silk-covered abdomen, fingers spread wide over the plane of your stomach. Gazing up at you beneath lust-hooded eyes, his piercing blue eyes consumed the sight of you before him - glamorous, sophisticated, flawless.

“Can we try for a baby?”

Your neck craned back slightly, computing his question.

“You mean that?” Your response was admittedly quite loaded, testing the waters in case Duncan was joking.

“More than anything,” he husked, leaning forward to bump foreheads with you as you both gazed at his hand fixed to your stomach. His silent contemplation as he skimmed his fingertips over the silk spoke louder than any words that could leave a Shepherd’s tongue.

“What about Annette?” You sighed deeply, your hopes dashed by your realisation that your relationship would never be accepted by Duncan’s supposed family.

“Her opinion doesn’t matter, she’s not even my mother. Besides, she’s always wanted grandchildren, biological or not.”

“What about Michael? What do we tell him?”

Duncan’s head drooped.

“I—I hadn’t thought that far ahead yet. I’ll think of something, we could talk it over when we get home tonight?”

Glimpsing Michael leaving Ms Mead’s side from the corner of your eye, you hurriedly composed yourself and batted away Duncan’s adoring hand.  Hands clasped behind his back, the handsome blonde made his way towards you with a grin creeping across his lips.

“You two look thick as thieves over here,” Michael jested, leaning in to plant a peck on your cheek before curling his arm around your waist, resting on Duncan’s. “What have I missed?”

“N—nothing,” you stuttered, flattening the silk over your stomach. “We were saying how well Ms Underwood looks tonight.”

“Yes, she does,” Michael glanced back to the President as she made idle small talk with Ms Mead, hand resting on her bump. Michael’s gaze snapped back to you, then down to your flat stomach. “On that note, I have a proposition for you, kitten.”

Michael’s wide hand travelled to your abdomen, clutching at the valley of your pelvis.

“Can we have one?”

You shot a bemused look back at Duncan and the brunette reciprocated. You both snickered under your breath and looked back at Michael.

“What? Was it something I said?”

———

As you bundled into your shared apartment, Duncan impatiently pinned you against the front door, frantically traversing your body with determined hands. You melted into his manic touch as he skilfully slipped your dress straps down your arms, the once elegant ball gown reduced to a puddle of silk at your feet. Michael placed a concerned hand on Duncan’s shoulder, leaning into the gap between you.

“Mr Shepherd, do you seriously believe you’re going to get her pregnant up against a door? You really want us to explain that to our kids?”

Duncan let out a disgruntled huff, shrugging as he grabbed your bare thighs and hooked them around his waist to carry you to the bedroom.

“You know what, Michael? I can already tell you’re gonna be the boring dad.”

“Easy boys, or I’ll change my mind about bringing a baby into this family.” You chuckled softly against Duncan’s shoulder as he barged you both through the bedroom door, pointing a joking finger at the blonde pacing behind you.

“Now there’s no need for that, baby girl,” Michael sighed, fiddling with his belt and casting aside the expensive leather while unlacing his boots at the bedroom door. “He knows I love him, don’t you Dunc?”

Planting you gently down onto the sheets, Duncan nudged your thighs apart and stepped back to admire the vision of you beneath him.

“Of course I do, honey,” Duncan purred, standing aside while discarding his tuxedo jacket. “So much that I’m going to let him knock you up first.”

“How generous of you,” Michael chuckled, his dress pants pooling around his feet with a whoosh as he kneeled between your legs, reaching for a pillow to place under your hips while carefully sliding down your panties. “Are you comfortable, baby girl?”

Throat thickened with anticipation, you nodded weakly and curled your legs around Michael’s waist to draw him in.

“See, Duncan might be the forceful, impulsive one in the bedroom,” he muttered while littering kisses into the nape of your neck, hands gently reaching down to line himself up with your already dampened entrance. “But he doesn’t know much about conception.”

A tut came from the tall brunette beside you, shedding his pants and boxers before settling beside you and brushing your hair back from your face.

“Coming from the Antichrist who lost his virginity to the girl he’s now trying to impregnate,” Duncan snarked with a grin, lust-blown eyes fixed between your thighs as Michael’s tip softly nudged your folds open.

“Which means I’ll be a loyal father to our child,” Michael smiled down at you as he eased his rigid length into you with a deep grunt. “You’re going to be the most amazing mother.”

Back arching desperately into his languid motion, you hissed through clenched teeth with the delicious stretch of your walls around his girth.

“Fuck, you’re always so tight,” Michael moaned as his eyes roved to the ceiling, pouring himself inside you until he filled you completely. “We’ll need to stretch you out before you can push our baby out.”

As Michael maintained a passionate, rocking pace, your head threw back into the pillows and both hands grasped handfuls of the silken sheets beneath you, broken gasps blended with gentle mewls spilling from your tongue. A decided silence fell upon the room around your explicit moans, your sideways glance landed upon Duncan gazing blissfully at Michael making love to you, palming hungrily at his own rock hard member. You reached out to curl your fingers around his base and offer the brunette some relief, to which he jerked his hips into your touch and smiled through his frustration.

“You’re doing so well for daddy,” Duncan dipped to kiss you deeply, his stubble scratching a soft burn into your cheek. “Take his cum like a good girl and I’ll fill you up again afterwards.”

“Don’t worry Dunc,” Michael reassured between smooth curls of his hips. “Our girl’s so tight and fertile, I won’t be able to last much longer.”

Keening desperately, your free hand traversed the contours of Michael’s bare chest to quell the taut pressure building in your core.

“Please fill me up, Michael,” you purred softly, feeling the stirrings of his orgasm twitching through his length between your folds. “Give me everything, fuck a baby into me.”

“Oh fuck, baby,” Michael moaned, balling his fists into the pillow beside your head, a lust-blown glaze over his eyes as his thrusts sharpened furiously. “Keep talking like that and I’ll make sure you’re pregnant again as soon as our first baby arrives.”

Accepting his challenge willingly, you hooked your legs tightly around his waist and drew him flush to your chest.

“Keep fucking me like—like this and I’ll be begging you to get me pregnant for the rest of our lives.”

Cupping his face in your hands to pull him in for a deep kiss, you moaned gratuitously into his mouth as you gave in to your walls fluttering desperately around his length.

“Cum with me baby, knock me up.”

With an animalistic growl, the overwhelming pressure in Michael’s cock burst free, releasing rope after rope of hot cum deep inside your cunt. Duncan whimpered desperately as Michael’s hips stuttered frantically, the blonde eagerly riding through his climax as the slick sound of soaked, slapping skin accompanied his cum dribbling around his base.

“Fuck, we should give you a baby more often, baby girl,” Michael sighed contentedly as he slipped his cock out of your folds in sheer exhaustion, falling to the bed beside you as you lay spread open, his arousal seeping onto your thighs.

Duncan gasped, lunging forward to take his place between your spread legs and gliding the tip of his flushed cock through the white trails escaping your cunt.

“Langdon, you won’t knock her up at all if you waste your cum like that,” the brunette sighed, wasting no time pouring his coated length through your swollen entrance. “Don’t worry baby, I’ll make sure you’re pregnant this time.”

Duncan’s thrusts were instantly jagged and fierce, having excited himself far too much watching Michael dominate you, who was now a panting, crumpled heap of limbs beside you planting sloppy, grateful kisses up your arm. The blonde reached down to your core and thumbed at your overstimulated clit, revelling in the jerks and shakes traversing your body with every swipe of your sensitive spot.

“Gotta hand it to you, Michael, she’s so fucking tight,” Duncan’s strained groans caught in his throat died out beneath the cacophony of lurid squelches accompanying every motion inside you. “Our girl really needs us to breed her, don’t you baby?”

Unable to form a response, you cried out as Duncan pounded relentlessly against your sensitive spot. His hips jabbed harder as he waited impatiently for a response.

“Y—yes daddy,” you whined pitifully, winding your hands around his neck to welcome your second orgasm. “Please breed me, plea—please breed me.”

“That’s my girl, cum all over me,” Duncan purred obscenely, restrained yelps escaping him with every pound against your walls that jittered feverishly around his girth. He ventured a flat palm to your abdomen, drinking in the ripples of your taut skin as his cock pistoned against them. “Let daddy knock you up good.”

Your orgasm shook terrific tremors through your legs, leaving you wailing in Duncan’s ear as he clenched his thighs to unleash his climax with a blissful groan. Spilling frantically deep into your core, your walls trembled weakly, slicked with both loads of cum pounded into you.

“Fucking hell,” Duncan’s voice soared as his eyes met the ceiling, a final jerk of his hips ploughed deep within you. “If you’re not pregnant now, I don’t think you ever will be.”

“There—there’s only one way to find out,” you stuttered through your hazing overstimulation, stars dancing across your vision as you remembered Michael’s intuitive powers could easily tell you if your boys had succeeded in tonight’s plan to impregnate you.

You and Duncan glanced over to Michael, who reached forward to place a hand over your abdomen as his eyes rolled into his head to read the feelings within your womb.

“It’s definitely working,” Michael smiled. “But a few more wouldn’t hurt.”

[langdxn]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How about now?”

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

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

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

“You’re... you’re wearing...”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Baby, please...”

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

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

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

“That’s it, Mrs Langdon, stand up.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Good girl,” he cooed.

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

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

“Mi... Michael, why aren’t you—“

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

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

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

“Michael, please...”

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

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