#but I'm thinking about how I want to write Michael Langdon smut in my fic...

[prophecy-is-inevitable]

On the Eve of November

Outpost!Michael x Demon! Fem Reader Oneshot

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

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

Word Count: 5k (WHOOPS)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I have won.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?’

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

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

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

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

"Oh yes. Whenever you'd like."

#This was supposed to be a short #Happy Halloween Michael Langdon #Michael Langdon #Michael Langdon x Reader #Outpost Michael #Demon Reader #Michael Langdon Fanfiction #but I'm thinking about how I want to write Michael Langdon smut in my fic... #My Oneshots