#sure his new persona gives him the life he wanted but its gotta be wild to think 'people only like me for what i can do for them' | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

demonwifey · 4 years

Note

I was wondering if you could write a fic where the reader has a think for beetlejuice’s voice. Like a voice kink.

I struggled with it a little bit because I’ve barely written full on smut before so I hope you guys enjoy. I decided to do a different take and do a succubus reader instead of a human reader.

But still got through it and @paxenera actually got an ask like this as well so go check hers out too!💚💜🖤

Warnings: NSFW +18, succubus!reader

Word Count: 3,453

After a full 2 weeks in the human world Y/N was finally home. Back to the grim darkness that filled the sky. Back to the eerie sounds of wails and moans on the air. Back to a never ending sight of the dead walking around freely. The Netherworld. Home, sweet home.

****

And it wasn’t easy being one of the Netherworld’s most infamous succubi. Y/N took the position after having met an early death when she was only 27. She practically lived a boring life when so why not find something a little more exciting and fulfilling in her after life. That’s when her case worker assigned her to work at the hottest Netherworld brothel, Dante’s Inferno. After spending what seemed like 3 months, actually 2 years in human time, she worked her way up to a full fledged succubus.

Of course, being a succubus came with it’s ups and downs. The upside was that Y/N felt more alive than ever. She had sexual power over desperate men. They made her feel in control in every single way. But that was also the downside. Her victims were only in it for their pleasure. They wanted her to take control as they filled their fantasies of being dominated by a sexy seductress demoness. But sometimes she wanted…less. Maybe Y/N wanted someone else to take control. Maybe she wanted to give the power to someone else.And there was only one man that gave Y/N exactly what she wanted. And his name was Beetlejuice.

The demon man came into her life just a year after fully becoming a succubus. The two ran into each other at Dante’s Inferno. Y/N was back to visit her old brothel friends and Beetlejuice was there for a good time. He spotted Y/N as soon as he walked in the door and knew he had to talk to her. The other succubi warned her not to mess around with Beetlejuice but Y/N was way too intrigued. After a night of endless flirting, she pulled the demon man into what used to be her old room. And the two were hooked on each other since

The pair were like ‘friends with benefits’. But friends that had deep mutual underlying feelings for each other that they would never admit. Whenever Y/N was home she would invite Beetlejuice over. While sex was one of their main bonds, they still just enjoyed each other’s company. Y/N loved Beetlejuice’s sweet talk and the ability to make her laugh. Beetlejuice loved her dominant personality and the fact that she always listened to him talk about anything.

Although Y/N genuinely liked listening to Beetlejuice’s wild stories, she also had her own selfish reasons for being so engaged; she loved listening to man’s voice. Most people in the Netherworld thought of Beetlejuice’s voice as literal nails on a chalkboard. But whenever she heard his deep scratchy voice scream out “Babes!” when he walked in the door, it drove her wild. Don’t even get her started on when they have sex. Hearing Beetlejuice’s voice moan and grunt over her was like she’d been sent to heaven.

Y/N wasn’t actually sure if Beetlejuice actually knew about her secret fixation or not; spoiler alert, he did. And she always took note at how he’d get more vulgar when telling certain stories. His yelling and swearing louder at the peak of a story made Y/N more aroused than she’d like to tell. And, of course, he’d never complained when she stopped him mid-sentence to attack his lips in a fever-ish kiss.

****

Y/N walked out of her bathroom finally feeling refreshed from a steaming shower. Although she loved her succubus title, she hated the stench that would linger after spending a night with a human man. The smell of desperation and sex was perfect in the moment but she wanted it off of her once the high came down. Although many Netherworld occupants didn’t feel the need to follow basic hygiene since they were dead, Y/N did.

She sat down on her bed and pulled her long coily black hair into a low ponytail. After every feeding, the purple tips in Y/N’s hair would go back to their beaming tint. It symbolized that her demon needs were met. But yet again, her personal needs weren’t met.

While she was gone, Beetlejuice was also gone. Out trying to find unsuspecting humans to say his name three times. Another one of his far fetched plans that Y/N listened to but never took too seriously. And although both demons were in the human world, they never found time to see each other. Y/N was handling her own responsibilities so she never had time to stop and entertain the green haired demon.

As Y/N walked into her living room, she looked around for something to do. She was dressed in only her silk black robe and a pair of lace black panties with her breast remaining free. She plopped herself down on the couch and let her brain think. One of the many sources she had of entertainment was Beetlejuice. But he was gone so she had to find something else to keep her busy. Maybe she could just rest and rela-

*RIIIING*

Y/N rolled her eyes and groaned loudly. It was finally her day off and some random person had to interrupt that. Y/N got up from the couch and headed to the kitchen. Everything in the Netherworld was vintage and antique. Which made the 20 year old in her excited when she first moved in and saw an old landline phone hanging on the kitchen wall. This had better not be those dead football players again, she thought. Y/N grabbed the phone after the 4th ring.

“Hello~?” Y/N said in her now normal seductive tone. One of the things her mentors taught her was to always answer the phone like she was a sex operator. ‘It adds character’, they always said.

“Well, well, well. Look who finally decided to answer their phone.” The all too familiar voice of Beetlejuice echoed through the phone. Y/N felt a faint shiver run down her spine. She was caught up in her own thoughts for a second before clearing her voice and speaking again.

“H-hey, Beetlejuice. Long time no see, or hear, I guess.” She stammered a bit. Dammit, she was supposed to be one of the fiercest succubi in all of the Netherworld. Yet here she was losing that whole persona over a demon who wears stripes for a living.

“And whose fault is that, babes? I’ve called you like 100 times and you’ve never answered.” Beetlejuice claimed with a mock snarky attitude. Y/N scoffed.

“Okay, I’ve been in the human world working. Not all of us get to be free ghosts that come and go as we please.” She shot back, playfulness all in her voice. She then leaned her body against the wall next to the phone.

“You were in the human world? Why didn’t you tell me, babycakes? I could’ve made arrangements to see you!” Beetlejuice practically screamed through the phone.

“I did tell you, Beetlejuice. You just have very selective hearing when your hands are on my ass.” Y/N explained and the phone grew silent for a moment.

“…As true as that may be, we are going to disregard that.” Y/N laughed at the demon’s comment. That’s when he proceeded to tell Y/N about the new couple he was watching, the Maitlands. An average, middle class, white suburban couple. Apparently it was almost their time to die and Beetlejuice was going to use them to haunt their house. While listening to Beetlejuice mouth off about the couple, she moved back into the living room. Sitting herself back on the house while twirling the phone’s spiral cord between her fingers.

“Is that why you called, BJ? To tell me your new master plan? And how are you calling me from their anyway?”

“Oh, the Maitlands have an old rotary phone in their attic. Apparently the husband, Adam, likes to collect antiques. And I called cuz’ I wanted to check on you, duh. Gotta make sure my babes is okay.” Beetlejuice attempted to mumble the last part but the demoness still heard him. Pulling her finger out of the phone cord, Y/N placed her hand over her heart.

“Aw, isn’t that sweet? Mr. ‘Ghost with the Most’ does have a beating heart after all.” She mocked. This time Beetlejuice scoffed.

“Don’t go spreading it around, kitten. It only beats for you.” Y/N would’ve dived more into that last part had she not been too distracted by the pet name he used. Hearing his scratchy voice call her ‘kitten’ aroused her more than she’d like to admit. She squirmed in her spot on the couch, rubbing her exposed thighs together.

“Mmm, Beej you know how much I love it when you call me kitten~” Y/N purred out. She began moving the hand on her chest down the front of her body. His gritty voice mixed with the silk of her robe against her body was making her more and more aroused by the second.

“Getting a little worked up, are we, babycakes? You missed me that much?” Y/N could almost hear him smirk though the phone.

“Don’t get cocky, Beej. You already know which parts of me missed you.” Y/N’s hand grazed its way down to her thigh, not quite ready to touch herself completely.

“Hmm, let me guess. That pretty little pussy already wet for me?” And that was it. As his gruff tone echoed through Y/N’s phone, it was just enough to make her go further. She undid the band that closed the robe around her before pushing the silk fabric away and slipping her hand into her lace panties. Y/N slowly grazed her middle finger over the tip of her clit. Chills covered her body as she felt her pussy entirely soaked. She was too wrapped up in her own world to realize that she didn’t even answer Beetlejuice. And he didn’t like that one bit.

“I asked you a question, babes.” He practically growled through the phone. This caused Y/N’s succubus senses to heighten as her body was beginning to be overtaken by pleasure. Every instance of arousal she’d feel would be boosted by ten.

“Aaah~ Yes, baby. It’s so wet for you, Beej. Only you.” Y/N moaned as she began to circle her finger around the sensitive skin.

“God, kitten. You’ve got my dick rock hard right now.” Beetlejuice groaned out. The huskiness in his voice made her get even more wet, if that was even possible. And Y/N wasn’t oblivious. She knew Beetlejuice was touching himself as well. And, God, if that didn’t turn her just as much.

“Ahh, oh Beej~ I need you here. Please, I need you right now.” Y/N begged as the room was filled with nothing but her moans and sighs. She was never ashamed of begging for Beetlejuice, especially when she knew that’s what he wanted. His groans got longer and lower with each word she sighed out.

“Oh, babycakes, you trust and believe I’d be there right now if I could.” Beetlejuice moaned out. He wanted her, of course. He wanted to feel every inch of Y/N with his own hands. But right now, this is as close as he could get and he was going to make it worth her while. “Your fingers are in you, aren’t they?”

Y/N’s eyes fluttered shut, feeling more pleasure rise to her pussy as she went to slip her index and middle fingers into her wet opening, pumping them in and out slowly. “Mmm, yes. Ah, Beej, baby. And I’m so close.”

“Good. Now stop.” Beetlejuice commanded. Y/N’s eyes shot back open. He couldn’t be serious. Not when Y/N was getting so close to her desperate orgasm. One she’d been rightfully needing after two weeks.

“No, Beej, please. I’m so clo-” Y/N whined and protested but continued to rub herself. Beetlejuice knew this and wasn’t having any of it. When he told Y/N to do something, he meant it.

“I said stop, kitten. I wasn’t asking. ” His voice then got seriously stern, making Y/N feel all too timid. The man was how far away but she still felt the need to follow his commands. Although she let out a quiet whine, she moved her fingers away. The lack of contact made her upset but she still did as told. Beetlejuice knew Y/N all too well and he knew when she’d follow his demands.

“That’s a good girl. Now, stick your fingers in that pretty mouth of yours.” The green haired demon spoke. Y/N couldn’t do anything but oblige. She slowly moved her hand from her throbbing pussy upwards. She lifted her fingers to her lips and placed them slowly into her mouth. Y/N let out a long, drawn out, breathily moan as she tasted herself. Beetlejuice’s groan mirrored hers.

“Mm, fuck yeah, babes. You taste yourself? You taste how desperate you are for this dick?” Y/N continued to moan at his words as she moved her fingers around in her mouth. “Get your fingers all wet for me, kitten.”

Demoness just followed suit. She moved her tongue along her fingers to wet them excessively. Y/N let her imagination wander, thinking of them as Beeteljuice’s fingers. Thinking of how he would wet his fingers with her mouth and then slide them smoothly into her aching pussy, while whispering sweet nothings into her ear.

“Mmmph, Beetlejuice~” Y/N mumbled behind her fingers. She was getting restless. Fantasies could only take her so far before she wanted the real thing again.

On the other end of the phone, Beetlejuice was getting close to finishing himself. He stood in the Maitland’s attic, phone in one hand and leaking dick in the other. He stroked himself roughly, wishing it was Y/N’s mouth around his hardened erection instead. Taking a guess at how she looked in that moment made the man helpless. She was probably sprawled out on whatever surface with her legs propped open widely as an open invitation for him. He listened to her muffled moans through the phone’s receiver intently. God, the people he’d kill to see Y/N in such a helpless position again. Stuck in his own pleasure, Beetlejuice decided he couldn’t take it anymore.

“Okay, babes. Are they nice and wet now?” Beetlejuice asked, ready to give Y/N everything she needed.

Y/N pulled the fingers from her mouth and a small trail of saliva followed behind them. God, she thought, this was about to be too great. “Yes, baby.” She sighed out. The groan Beetlejuice let out was almost enough to make her come right at that moment.

“Mmm, perfect. Now put them inside you, kitten.” The demon man spoke though his own moans.

Y/N didn’t need to be told twice. Her body was hot and aching from her paused orgasm. She quickly moved her hand back into her panties before pushing them into her throbbing pussy entirely. Y/N practically screamed out at the missed contact. Beetlejuice growled louder at her scream and that only made it worse for her. She got back into the previous motion of fingering herself, this time more feverishly and without a slow pace. As she curled her finger against her g-spot as she spoke again.

“Beej, please. I want to come. Please let me come, baby. Oh god, I wanna come just for you, baby.” Y/N begged without hesitation. Her voice was getting higher as she was right on the edge of her orgasm.

“Come for me, kitten. Make that pretty pussy come for me.” Beetlejuice growled through his husky voice one last time as he was right on the edge with her.

Y/N’s moan could’ve reached all of the Netherworld as she finally got the release she so desperately craved. She arched her back against the couch as her pussy clenched and spasmed against her fingers several times. She grinded her hips up and down on her fingers as she rode out the sensation to its end. Beetlejuice wasn’t far behind as he pumped his dick just a few more times before his cum spilled all on the floor in front of him. Even though neither beings needed to breathe, the both gasped and panted like the wind had been knocked out of them. The only thing heard through the phone were harsh breaths back and forth. Finally, Beetlejuice was the first to speak.

“Hot damn, babes. We have got to do that more often.” Beetlejuice sighed out heavily. Y/N sighed along with him in agreement. Her body started to relax as she came down from her high.

“Mmm, believe or not Beetlejuice, I’d actually prefer the real thing.” She spoke while still rubbing below her. On the other end, Beetlejuice tucked himself back into his pants. Y/N also made an effort to get herself together. She removed her hand from her panties before pulling some on the robe back over her. Y/N didn’t even realize how tightly she was gripping the phone in her hand. She loosened her tight hold on the phone and then heard Beetlejuice chuckle on the other end at her comment.

“You and me both, kitten.” Y/N simply smiled at the man’s voice as Beetlejuice grinned on the other end.

“Honestly, you should just send one of your clones next time. That might make things a little easier.” Y/N joked. That’s when Beetlejuice let out a loud cackle and Y/N giggled with him. “No chance, Y/N. As if I’d let the boys enjoy you without me there.” He joked back. Y/N rolled her eyes playfully. She finally fixed her position on the couch back to how she laid before.

“Don’t you think that’s a little selfish, Beej?” She asked while grinning, already knowing what his answer would be.

“I can be selfish all I want, babes. It’s part of my character.” Beetlejuice said matter of factly and it was Y/N’s turn to let out a loud laugh. Once she stopped the line grew silent between the two for a moment. Y/N turned on her side, clutching the phone closer to her ear.

“Beej, how long are you gonna be gone for? I really do miss you.” The demoness spoke fondly. Again, the fiercest succubus in the Netherworld, but she would only let her shy and timid side show for Beetlejuice. Once the demon man heard those words, his dead heart ached longingly.

“Oh, babycakes. I don’t really know. But I promise, as soon as I’m done with these dopes here, you’ll be the first person I come to see.” He reassured sweetly. Y/N felt a small blush creep its way to her cheeks.

“You promise?” She asked flirtatiously. Beetlejuice let a wide smirk fill up his face.

“Yeah, kitten, I promise.” He spoke lowly and Y/N felt like she was melting. Before Y/N could say anything else, “Well, I gotta run, Y/N.”

Y/N sighed with disappointment. “Alright, have fun watching the Maitlands.” She said as she sat up on the couch.

“I’ll do what I can, babycakes.” The man spoke.

“Bye, Beej.” Y/N stopped but she wanted to say more. Yeah, she wanted to talk more but she wanted to add something to her goodbye. Something long lasting. Something like an ‘I love you’. But she didn’t.

She ended with, “You’d better keep your promise.” Before she heard Beetlejuice laugh one last time.

“I will, I’ll see you sooner than later, kitten. Bye.” And with that, the dial tone rang through her phone receiver.

Y/N sighed and let her body hang loose on the couch. Her hand fell to the side off the couch as the phone hung loosely in her finger. Y/N placed the back of her other hand on top of her forehead before getting lost in thought. She had it bad for Beetlejuice. And one day she was going to have to admit her feelings. Maybe when he came to see her after he was done with the Maitlands. She’d come straight and say ‘I love you, Beetlejuice’. One day she would have the courage to let the words out. Even though the demon man was already gone, all she could say was,

“Sooner than later, Beej.”

Thanks for reading💜🖤💚

#beetlejuice x reader #beetlejuice fanfiction #beetlejuice the musical #beetlejuice requests #beetlejuice #beetlejuice musical #succubus!reader #anon asks

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wroteclassicaly · 6 years

Text

Fiercely Vigilant

Michael Langdon / Reader

A/N : Requested by an anon was a jealous Michael. I made him jealous of the emotional friendship the reader has with Mr. Gallant. Hope you all like this! Feedback is welcomed! Let me know how my writing of Michael is, cause’ I’m quite nervous about it. Hope you enjoy, Anon! Keep the requests coming, folks! ;) - Kristen

Warnings : Smut, nasty language, some violence, Michael being a cruel asshole Anti-Christ. I think that about covers it.

You have to laugh at yourself for seeking out a dictionary, of all things to read. Another reason hand in hand with your status of sizzling gray to be ridiculed for. But really, you need to extend your vocabulary on describing this place that stretched beyond basic "This is bullshit. I'm bored. I'm hungry. I'm horny." pleas of exasperation. You were all starting to get on your own nerves. Even the purples were drained on energy most evenings.

Except Coco. That woman never shuts the fuck up. Whatever is in her cube must be a higher dosage. Perhaps Meade is sneaking in tranquilizers? Sleep deprived, wiping your blurry eyes you find yourself laughing at images containing everyone in the compound combusting into trunks and tails, humps and Dumbo ears.

Jocular. This is the word you're currently stuck on, fingernail pressed tightly into worn paper.

"And then she cut my credit card off like it was my dick, which, by the way, she wanted to suck. I'm like, honey, you're not a Hemsworth brother." A deep voice butters into your absurdly caught giggles. He raises a manicured chocolate brown brow, peering first at the thesaurus in your lap, then you. "Should've known that's what you were laughing about. You're such a fucking weirdo." Gallant pouts.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry." You snort with a mildly affectionate pat to his strong hand, that is resting across your ankle.

"You know I could ask you to wipe my ass instead of talking to you, right?"

Though his tone is meant to be more dignified, you know he's not serious, just being sour. You understand him though, oddly enough. Which is something most people don't here. He's not purple through and through. Coco might be Barney though, jury still has its vote out on that one. If there was a jury alive.

"I'd rather manscape you," You say tiredly, closing your words up, holding tightly to your new nightly read.

Relaxing, a sigh to accompany, Gallant's posture goes slack beneath his velvet smoking jacket, his fingers back to caressing the overworked heels of your stocking clad feet. It's rare. So fucking rare for this deep of a companionship to have formed between two more opposite people. The grays work for elites and leaders here, they do nothing but serve and take what little they are permitted. They don't have night long conversations, sneak down into the library after the fires are put out to search the library together for soft core porn or even poetry, and they don't share secrets they'd never dare tell anyone else, and they sure as hell wouldn't be caught together so casually, a gray looking as if she's an elite's queen, feet in his lap, being pampered to, when she is supposed to be kissing the radiation soaked ground for the chance to serve here, to live what life she can.

Yet here you both are, closer than Gallant's friendship with Coco, closest thing you've ever felt for another human being since years before the bombs fell. It's an unexplainable thing, you feel compelled towards Gallant's company and he to yours. Beneath all his shallow and hyper - vibrant exterior is someone in pain, angry. So you soothe him, you listen. You two be. You two are.

"Ugh, I can't believe you touch her more than a straight man would. If you wanted to touch a woman then you know you have me. This is so idiotic." Comes a slouchy whine to your left on the couch across from you two. Her dress fans around her the moment that she hits the cushions and your eyes roll, feet tensing in Gallant's lap with a tight flex as they also slide out.

His exterior is changing, fighting a gapped bridge where he's more settled, to his stuck up and snotty attitude that comes so natural to him that he breathes insults over air. You don't give him the chance to decide which persona he's taking on, for you've got your book tucked away, all too aware as you stand, knowing how much time it has taken to get you relaxed enough that your chores are way behind. A plummet frolics inside your muscles, all melted things hardening like ice, shocking, spilling sharp through your veins in spreads. Tucking away your yellow treasure into your apron, you go about fluffing pillows in chairs, checking candles, making sure things are in perfect order. Doesn't matter how clean things are, they can always be knuckle raw, fingernail bed bleeding - cleaner.

They're talking now, a secret smile cracking into the corners of your mouth at Gallant still directing his part from the conversation your way. "Wish I at least had Fifty Shades in these hands. With the right lighting and a little Christian Grey, it makes one happy man."

"Nora Roberts sounds pretty good. What I wouldn't give for a solid insta feed though, holy shit in Louboutin heels. " Coco agrees, sighing into a melancholy trail off.

"You know what I think?" Gallant has you both looking his way again. When he sees in special delight that he's got your attention, he edges on his seat before continuing, fingers tightly clasped together, licking his lips in thought. "I think Langdon has some kinky shit he brought with him around here somewhere."

"Like what?" Coco is damn near exploding now, bunching her knuckles white against the rustling fabric of her dress.

And you, your feet forget what the floor is and they sink as they still to hold you up. The mention of the man that's been combing your subconscious, your consciousness, your dreams, your fucking nightmares and your nerves, automatically hatches a slash through any calm serenity you've previously picked up. Everyone here has been obsessed or occupied with thoughts of and about this cooperative man. He claims salvation by test, paradise promised by sanctuary. While others are starved for stars, your last hopes are seeing their final hours.

There's no way someone is just going to come here, make this much of an impact, promise such things, then use hideous humiliation to gain a dangerous upper-hand without a flaming hellfire catch. It doesn't help you that in your previous life you were too scared to start drama when McDonalds messed up your order. Forget keeping your calm around Langdon, especially in your interviews. You feel stupid, guilty you even let yourself ease off knowing he's still very much present. Gallant has these looks he shares with Langdon, ones that baffle you, irritate you, worry you.

Guess he's handsome's favorite. Like you have a chance no matter what orientation Langdon is.

"Chains, leather, lots of fucking leather." Gallant damn near moans himself into the floor, snapping your reverie, your ears rearing back zone impact into their conversation.

In this moment you want to simply blend in with these people for the sake of solitude. Despite your weariness to whisper Langdon's name, let alone what you're about to say, you can't help a hot excitement prickling your flesh. "Like maybe a sex swing he hangs from like Tarzan?"

Coco looks more intrigued than you've ever seen her, Gallant is sliding his tongue over his lips more than necessary. Yep, you've succeeded in getting your naughty point across.

"Gray girl has a nasty ass mind. Gotta say that I'm impressed I wasn't the only one besides Gallant, looking at his dick. What you can see of it through that designer coat. I bet he has a studio of things back at the sanctuary. I can't wait for him to take me there." She babbles on, back resting into the plush couch, coasting on her own fantasy.

~*~

You didn't say goodnight to either elite after your little sexy pillow talk and wishes session. Gallant escorted Coco off to her room, the two of them gossiping about sex swings and fresh air, as you tried to lug your large mop bucket up the winding staircase. The heat from the candles is dizzying, your vision blotching out around your thirsting lips. You'd kill Venable for a drink of water right now but you're already behind. Thanking your newly acquired upper arm strength, you heave the heavy tin onto the landing, safely tucked away for you to start your last night time task.

By the time you've scrambled back down to pick up your propped mop, an electricity seems to charge the air, candles swaying without breeze. You know he's here before you actually know. Your body bows in his direction like a violent tornadic spin-up, your dingy boot paused cautiously on the final top step, your fingernails biting into the wood of the mop handle. Langdon is doing what he does best : observing you like a wild beast, something even predators are afraid to speak of. You don't tell yourself to calm down, you know it's ill advised and won't work with him.

"Working late tonight?" He pesters, Cheshire smirk pressing his beautiful features, though his eyes this playful mood does not reach.

You shut off your brain that's screaming alarms at you head on fractured, blurting out whatever you come up with.

"I am, Sir. Which is my fault. I got caught up, I was -"

"Talking to Billy Idol?" He cuts you off, your jaw snapping shut.

"Billy Idol?...." You give yourself a second to leap the reference, shaking your head. So Langdon is pop cultured.

"I was talking to him, yes. And trying to finish my work. I didn't know if he or Miss Coco would require my services, so I stayed around the area."

You think you're coming out strong, halfway truthful but you believe in your words, your grip loosening slightly. That strength is shattered within moments. It's as if you can taste fire on the air, its nasty breath singing your neck. You rear back to see Langdon's polished boot kick your tin bucket to the front of the stairs and over, sending it crashing to its side, soapy water drenching your skirts and flooding the stairwell. There's a red hot heat to match your fearful shock, French kissing your disgusting embarrassment, rolling right into the sheets with your unbalanced temper.

You catch your upper lip wobbling, much to Langdon's unguarded pleasure. He sloshes his shoe to splash some water up at you, laughing, like he got what he wanted in some sick form of vengeance. You didn't think he noticed, nor cared enough to try to upset you this way. Guess that's not how things truly work with him. Your silence halts his laughter, forcing your curiosity to face him.

He's watching you watch him, but this time it's as if you're on equal footing. You're seeing through one another. He tilts his head, his hair casting brief shadows across his sharp face. He's fucking undeniably breath taking. You're trembling, he's recharging, no, he's surging on your emotions.

"Maybe you'd like to have Mr. Gallant assist you? Somehow though, I don't think he'd be pleased with this line of work, nor your presence in this state. Which is why it's difficult to understand why he puts himself in your pathway when he's walking on marble and you're the mud stained earth."

"I-" You suddenly fight for the air Langdon is invisibly holding vice, hostage max.

"Though if you promised to fill his hole with Venable's cane, then hold him after, maybe he'd indulge you."

There's a spark he recognizes with astonishment, not blocking, not surprised to get you, but for the first time powerless to bewilderment. You aren't thinking, you're feeling. Feeling your way through every damned patch of thorns, of bullshit, using your hands to battle your way. Your palm connects with a warm, muscular-bone shaped flesh, fingertips brushing slight into plump, soft lips. The echo your hit on Langdon causes is haunting, an eerie flush dusting across your skin.

You would swear on everyone's lives here that you saw nothing human in his eyes moments after he gets his bearings. Your pride is short lived, arm suddenly branded by his painful grip, hot like an iron, banishing your bones to dust, muscles twisting in being drug to his room, his office, whatever it is. Your body is seemingly everywhere at once, the room flying violently past your vision. Your legs crumble at the same time your back collides-tailbone first into the heavy double doors, locks sounding, making you itch. Langdon is tossing you by your wrist into his desk, your hip jutting into its sharp edge.

Scrambling back you decide it's fight or flight. He's already circling you, unyielding, so you need to do this. Propelling backwards behind his chair you reach for something glass, a stupid paper weight, holding it tightly. "I'll smash your fucking skull into your brains, Langdon, and I don't care what will happen to me after. It'll be worth it to see you die if you fucking touch me!"

You don't want him to meet death's door, though, you are startling to realize you've felt this way since you laid eyes on him, and that sets off a powerful lurch in your step, paperweight slipping, forgotten, rolling around his approaching feet. You let him grab you, let him seal your fate, permission all granted. If someone is going to die then it will be you, you just can't hurt him. He grips your apron strap, your book clattering in a thump, and then you're one with the cold floor below you, inches from the confines of the area rug. When he straddles you, you forget how to breathe, choking.

Bowing up, then down again, your arms fold to your sides, body holding. Langdon descends above you like an angel forged out of dark, enriching blood, whispering things like wings to his shadow, his coat black feathers you hunger to stroke. His leather clad legs have you caged in, his chest eases atop yours, his hair cascading a private curtain to enclose you in fate. His nose nudges yours, not giving in, changed, in synch with this newly slow dance tempo. You're gliding, gliding somewhere where only you two can walk on the dance floor, where the music exists solely for your ears.

This is more terrifying than you had felt before with him. Suddenly you're unsure of anything you've ever done in your entire life, questioning every waking decision. Hitting him is all you can be proud of, because it led to this. And this.... this scares you, being moved by violence towards a dangerous soul, it binds you. Langdon's ring clad finger strokes down your chin, across your jaw, up to your cheekbone to smear around dried tears of humiliation that you never knew you had cried.

He's got a red patch wound across his mouth from your imprint, an urge to lick at the skin, taste your hot hit on him tempting enough you feel your pelvis jolt off the floor, directly colliding with his.

You shiver into motions you can't control, gasping on cans of air that reach Langdon's lips. He tastes them, drawing his fingers back down the path they came, working to cup your breast through your apron and your overshirt. If you thought his presence fucked your nervous system up, then you know you're going to hell in a handbasket now. But you don't have time to question it, no. Langdon easily brings you up onto your shaky footing, holding you around your waist, fingertips skimming your breast, whilst he lets his other hand grip your tightly worn and issued twist at the top of your head, pulling until it releases your hair.

You sigh into a pregnant tremble, your head lighter, everything spinning, spinning to stillness. For an unusual amount of moments Langdon is quiet, observant in concern, defeating his voices to silence. He won't hurt you, not really. He can't.

The fact that that wasn't what actually upset him stirred his demon, spoke to his soul. You were guarded around him, shielding yourself by sheer emotion. No magics, no seduction, no wit. You didn't want him to see, but you let that idiot Gallant inside. The one that was so desperate for love Langdon was honest to Satan scared he'd try to find something with you.

Physical or not, he couldn't bare it.

"Why did you do this? I don't understand what happened," You whisper gently, seeking.

"You're an obstacle I did not expect to find here, nor do I want you. Gallant is a fucking problem. I should end you both, drive a fucking stake through your hearts as you're embracing. What a sweet little death for two insatiable romantics." And he's mocking you again, only this is tipping over into the bottom of the ocean cruel.

You scoot from his grip, appalled at what he's implying. Is the male ego that thick? Even now?

"Then you're not who you claim to be, because if you were, you'd know that Mr. Gallant would carry you over this buildings' threshold, ride off in your god forsaken carriage with you and leave us here to fry feed the cannibals." You finish, ignoring the sting in your eyes at him stating clearly what you already know.

He doesn't want you. But you shouldn't care beyond lust and competing for affections, having him when no one else does, that should be all you want. Not hurt that runs so damn deep you want to carve your heart out and demand he step on it, finish you. What's this otherworldly reason for wanting someone you don't even know, a sociopathic egomaniac - to love you? If love were to catch you, wrap itself around you like poison-why is it running so ahead of you that an abyss can't even capture its rapture, with a.... a man like this?

Langdon can read you so well again, continuing his monologue, spoken tongue to mouth, yours.

"Given the right environment, deprivation of human contact until the body cries out for something, any-fucking-thing, emotional stimulation, anyone can become more than they should, or ever knew that they could be together, Y/N." His voice is speaking to you, not down on you. And he's moving closer again, forward.

You don't know anything but this man on this earth. Who is everyone? Who the fuck are you? You just want to be in him, he in you. Together. No separation. You don't fight Langdon's touch, his forehead softly propping against yours. "I want every single part of you that you cling to, so I can shatter you, then put you back together. I want you to let me in the way you let him in."

Fucking breathe, don't forget that. No, you can't use Langdon's air. Not yet.

"I may not want you, but I need you. I shouldn't, but I ache for you. And I've eaten, but I could ravish you until there is nothing left but what I desire to be." He's crowning your chin in a gentle touch, feather-like, almost as if you can share the drumming pulse right from his fingertips through you. He too is a little more shaky, something you are too slack-jawed to comprehend.

It settles like snowfall, quiet enough for live clouds to form above your heads. Langdon guides your cold and sweaty palm to wipe off on his shirt, taking note to your nerves, not entirely objecting. He still likes you squirming. You're swung by a force so inhuman, you believe it has prayed over you in hisses, forever winding into your skin. There's no turning back, but you knew that from the moment he got here.

You're moving, like ghosts, fast paced, not quick enough. There's orange and yellow blurs pattering across your vision in fuzzy shapes, candlelight. This place is leaving you flabbergasted. It's like any other room but it's his. His sanctuary.

Your body is laid back across some sheets, stretched out like an art exhibit on the mend, striving for greatness. Langdon's coat is off, his scarf following, drifting into the chair you were unaware is here. You don't know exactly what you should do, your animalistic instincts trying to snap their violent jaws through leashes of your thinly held self-control. There's a wisp that snaps an air so warm you bite into your cheek, fisting the covers beside you, head lolling to the side, a moan vibrating throughout your entire body. You arch to it like a willing prisoner on the verge of her freedom.

What are you doing to me? You don't voice it, all stomping surround sound guides it. You sense cosmic connection, fucking space extended, mother nature pumping your blood. You wither around like a fish on dry land, thirsting for a stream of whatever Langdon offers you. Maybe you can hear music, anything you wish.

Are you dreaming? Did you fall on those stairs? What is this?

"Don't restrain it, don't hold back, don't let the human reservations consume what your body wants. I can smell you," Langdon breathes, giving you his supply, knees pressing into his bed. "How openly ripe your heart is, how I want it bared to me, unguarded, the way Mr. Gallant takes you to try and make his pathetic existence matter."

"I'm not, I'm just," Fuck, it's like he's controlling the weather in here, executing your every attempt at a clear breath. " We talk, that is it, Sir. I'm just here to be whatever it is they deem me-"

"Bullshit!" Langdon roars, arms wildly flailing out, posture still staying perched nearer to your knees. "You're spouting a previously written verse. How dare you think you can lie to me, even now? Even after you struck me and I never slit your weak, little throat?"

His temper doesn't level quickly, not like you're used to seeing if he's irritated. The changing movement coaxes you to be bold once more, tears nearing your lash line, shame dripping past your slick thighs. "If you know I'm so weak then why are you getting off on trying to keep proving I am, Langdon? That seems below you, doesn't it? Like me, like I am to Gallant outside these walls. Hell, in them if he could have a shot at something more, a shot at you."

His brow raises, chest shapes his ribs visible beneath his black undershirt at your usage of his last name. He notices your acidic hiss as you spit out the last part of your sentence, zeroing in on him. It's clear. So you dislike your friend's adoration, yearning for him? So many complicated layers between human beings.

He wasn't aware he clouds his own knowledge. This further proves that you're unhinging him to a sway he can't fathom. A sturdy hand filters above, up, to lay beside your knee, your body still locked in place. "You envy one another in ways, then you act as if you care for each other, despite everyone here thinking you belong outside, or that you should be licking the very floors they fantasize were built for them."

"It's not that way all the time. Better than nothing, knowing him more than they do," You softly respond.

"And this is why you continue to let him in? Because his presence feels good enough to make you forget the loneliness?" Langdon questions, seemingly so very interesting now he's tilting his head, making his hair fall over his eyes. You want to object to those beautiful things being covered, but you remain mum. He's got it and he lets it click.

"We share the most degrading human emotion," says Langdon, this time dropping a knee to your right, lifting himself above you slowly.

"Is that the answer to why you're interested in me and Gallant, Sir?" You rasp, wanting to scoot away, brain warning you, everything else unraveling fast.

"Michael." Another knee that presses, bringing him atop you like your dark angel. For a moment you think he knows Gallant's first name, then it sweeps you into a magnetic design, your thighs hitting his kneecaps.

"Use my name however you see fit, Y/N. Let me break this lonesome disposition inside you. Give it all to me, not to a worthless attention seeking man. I don't care what he wants, I don't care if he doesn't pine for what's between your legs. He'll overtake you before either of you know it."

"He's doesn't want me like that," You stutter. "You're mad because I won't fold into you like the rest?"

"You won't let anyone in but him, when I should be already inside you." Michael confirms, as if this is so obvious a rat could figure it out.

"So just your ego. To conquer. Okay then, I'm out." Your body does start to move this time, salty tears spilling, bypassing your wishes, before Michael completely wipes himself from your space. You have to blink a few times to make sure you can still see him, far away, like he can move without even walking. He's not close enough, you want to hit him, take him, taste him, give all he wants even if you're terrified. How can he mess with you like this? It must be in this air, polluting, veiling.

"We share jealousy, you and I. But together we can cure it, rid ourselves of unsatisfaction." His back is firm against the heavy wooden door, candlelight curving out every space you can see from your placing. "If you let me in, let me be the one to break those walls down and build mine around you."

"Michael, please.... Just." You choke on your stretching gasp, a fist to your throat, arm holding across your lungs. What more can you say? He wants you to stop being guarded, stop letting what little you let out with someone that isn't him. Some man that reeks power, god-like, is chewing on his lip, wetting it, unbuttoning his shirt to smooth his fingers across his glowing flesh, what he lets you see of it.

"Open your fucking legs." Michael barks out, striding quickly, meeting in front of you.

A searing heat releases your leashes, uncaring. You sink your teeth into your lip, trying to draw blood, needing to taste something soon. You throb even more than you have been, tumbling, spinning, stumbling into Michael Langdon. Doubt is trying to wave itself in there, more warnings. Michael cuts them away, peeling back his shirt without eye contact faltering, muscles in his neck moving.

"You could have anyone here. This is too easy. There's better people for you." You try one more time. Denying yourself, this is insanity at its finest.

"I don't want anyone else this way, I never really have had the use for it beyond release. These morons here, they don't count for that kind of time. I want this endeavor to be...worth it." The fabric of his shirt drops at his booted feet, his entire chest expanded to your line of sight. He's taut, not overly so. Skin slightly tanned, creamy to blend. His muscles are strong, but they're not overpowering, no, that is elsewhere.

He radiates everything your mother warned you wasn't good, but you can't let this be wrong when it feels so fucking right. You attempt for your final-failed try.

"I can't please you, you're judging me as if I'm some key you've finally gotten. I'll disappoint you, Michael, I will." You berate yourself in shameful truth, already petrified of shedding your clothing, your skin, warped against his hard body, all the while you're pussy is growing more damp, threatening more tears if it's not attended to.

He gives a sigh so loud it could be a beasts' rumble. It lets him give his body to you, pressing over you, so hot you're sharing his heartbeat, breasts straining to be freed, to feel his delicious skin that houses whatever he is. He dips, rolls his hips like a snake dancing for its helpless prey, knees working against you, pelvis thrusting in tilting circles. Your apron, your skirt goes up your body, over your knees, his leather covered legs nudging it, commanding it around your hipbones. His knuckle moves so fast that it's not until you hear fabric rip, a shining glint off his ring that vanishes between your thighs, its sharp body slicing the fabric of your stockings apart down the middle, leaving a gateway to your panties, closer to you.

He's not talking, he's performing. His ringed finger circles your navel, brushes back and forth across your abdomen, spelling, shaping, mapping the elastic of your underwear, causing you to shake away, not getting anywhere. It goes on like this for what feels like an eternity. Just him testing you, stroking, getting your body slick with perspiration that sparkles like jewels in the rooms' lighting. And when you think he's done talking for tonight, planning to take, he startles your glazed over gaze at his working fingers - that pause on you.

"I'm not judging you by your cunt," Michael unravels on a long brush with a deep breath, inhaling you at the same instance he cups you warm, firm, fingers slipping between your sticky folds, kept covered by your sopping cotton panties. "Although, if I were.... yours would be filled with my cock, womb drowning in my seed. And that's something I'm not willing to give to just anyone, Y/N."

This time you do get closer to him on your own accord, hands finding purchase by nails biting painfully into your palms, pumping to push against his chest. He hums, a genuine grin pleasuring his features. Easing, you're sharing a way into you, he's finding you, you're coming together. He's denying you now that he sees you want it, teasing you, however. You bite off painful insults, he's chuckling, swiping a finger in circles, pushing down so hard you cry out.

Michael is saying something that you try to wake up for in your swollen state. He's showing you his damp finger, commenting how your juices coated him through a layer of fabric. You're halted, stamped to his watchful eye, the pop of his finger sucking your taste off. "You want to touch me more than you want my fingers to spread you apart, don't you?"

You're whimpering, nodding yes, trying to keep a hold of being here, but you're slipping, losing yourself in him, damn near begging.

"Don't hold back. Tell me what you want and then we'll take it, Y/N, together."

"Break me down and be with me, Michael." You find yourself answering immediately, right away, throwing yourself off this precipice.

Hefty arms draw around you and they drag you close, hands working to free you of your apron, buttons ripping, scraps, meaningless clothing everywhere. You need to get back to what Adam and Eve were. Bared, nature covering them barely, concealing enough to birth their story. You and Michael. You want nothing to stand between you two.

Concept of time isn't meaning anything anymore, it's rare and stops for you. Your clothing piles beside the bed, Michael's boots thump to hardwood, your hearing swerving in and out, sensitive to each sound you hear past your roaring heartbeat churning blood through your ears. You engulf tightly, parting your legs further like he called for, heels of your feet pressing into the backs of his strongly moving knees. Your hands are shoving themselves to the button on his pants, impatient, maniacal. He can't stop to assist you, too caught in pressing his lips to your collar bone, leveling a reward to your breasts in stride.

Firm planes of muscular structure drag across your nipples that harden with temperature, the promise of temptation full-filled. You have his zipper down by the time he's taking a neglected peak into his mouth, a gasp thrust into the air from you. His hair trickles across your chest, soft and sweeping. You maneuver a scoop into each side of his leather, noting he's simply wearing thin boxer briefs that cling to him like a wet t-shirt would. It lights you like no other.

Desperation doesn't cover what possesses you in this instance, so close to having this, taking this with him. Exerting yourself to extract this specimen form his too tight for any one person - bottoms, causes you to grit your teeth to challenge. Michael sucks, kisses, prods his tongue at your nipple, paddling the pumping throb your cunt is beating into you. A willing dance partner you sway in his steps, swallowed by his shadow, his solid golden fresh skin glued to your heaving body. You want to cry wantonly that you're coming, yet Michael hasn't touched you enough for it to peak.

Then again.... he doesn't need to, he.... he just. Can. You can't explain how the wheels in your head are turning as your bodies meet over and repeat. You're spinning in suspense, hung out to float, cunt clenching around nothing, recognizing him already, as if its been made to house him. Patting yourself on the back is what you want to do, a giggle tossing over your bare shoulder, Michael's pearly whites grinning into your skin.

You've gotten his leather pants down below his ass, eager fingers measuring bravely. It's there, it's thick, silk with slick, straining deliciously that you're salivating, not shy like you'd pictured you be in all your fantasies. Drawing your nails like claws protruded, your rake them down his shoulder blades which work to hold him up, streaming his back, resting purchase on his ass, then you give it your all, both of you swirled into a gusting gasp. Your sense of smell is stronger, alive, heady to the copper you know you've set free tearing into Michael's skin. It pleases you.

This King reigns in his self-control, eyes damn near black, blowing out all that icy blue. His lips red and wet, inviting you to taste your own salty sweat off his mouth. A kiss, an offering. You launch at it, granting yourself permission to tangle your fingers into his air, wrapping around your wrists, yanking in your fist. Each movement you make glides his heavy cock through your slit, rudely scattering what is overflowing from your pussy.

He's getting huffy, you're abruptly impatient. Michael finally frees back, lingering his look on you, fighting for his own oxygen. He's flushed, soaked, needing. And it's you whose to give it to him. You're to surrender.

It's what this whole thing was about. Letting him in.

Dropping your legs from around his lower waist, you watch him, unsteady breaths trampling your chest cavity into pathetic particles, then you slosh two fingers in voyage all across your dripping sex. Your thighs shake, knees struggle to frame this. His eyes are nearly growing impossibly black, almost hollowing him out. If it hurts then oh well, but you can't keep going on like this. You have to have him before the next second passes.

"Come here," You whisper, using your hands to separate your folds for him.

Alight, mischievous with a given gift, Michael takes his cock through your lips and gives no formal warning. Only foul, filthy, fitting, and desirable.

"You're going to let me push my cock into you now, aren't you? Fuck you until I'm emptying myself inside you, hiding." He dribbles to his knees, holding you by your thighs, keeping you shown. "Do you want me to hurt you? I can make it hurt, oh how I can make it hurt." He's dropping by your ear in a bend, lips letting you in on this choice.

"Michael just take it all, you can have it all. It's yours, it's been waiting for you," You belt out, whimpering like a frightened animal, spooking Michael into a fast thrust.

It's brutal, it stretches you beyond your means, bouncing your body up the bed. Those razor claws sink to Michael's wrists, your ass trying to meet his experimental rhythm, fast and punishing. You can hear everything full blast again, like a roaring train louder than the bombs were, the destruction, the night noises, the loneliness. Michael walks his fingers down your ankle and drags your leg over his shoulder.

You turn to press your face into the bedsheets beside you, a searing pain locking your muscles around him so hard you can feel your sticky wetness seep out from around where you're joined. He strikes a hand out and forcefully cups your chin in his hand, moving up and down in front of you, like he's gliding. Your mouth is shaped to form an O, not able to look away, pinpoint.

"I want you to look down and watch me fuck your selfish, greedy cunt." Is Michael's demand, wrought out iron to steal and every other damned thing you can think of that holds structure.

Who are you to refuse? Intrigued, ride hitched, you hang onto him, dash into his painful thrusts and moan loud enough to wake whatever is left of the world's population. You're swollen around him, your thick and creamy arousal pooling all over the sheets, noisily mashing at his cock, against his balls with each slam they make against your ass.

"That's it, Y/N. Let me in, let me deep inside. I'll never leave you."

"Michael, fuck, more, let me kiss you."

He surprises you both by answering without pause, biting into your plump lip, licking his tongue into your mouth, letting his lips workout the breaths he tries to inhale -into your shared airspace. You release his wrists, moon marks a bracelet of markings to him. He nuzzles your breast, hips slamming into the bed just as you grab his neck's nape, cradling. And then it happens faster than either of you knew you needed it to. He gives a little more into you, focused, discovering.

Piles of debris could've fallen on you both, unbeknownst to you. Michael barely grazes your clit on an upstroke that hits a slick spot you didn't know exists, sending your cunt to sheathe him tightly, your warmth milking his cock, raining down on him that he curls into you, crying out. You're overheated all too much, shivering, panting, an explosive shake clasping your pussy, pulling until you're boneless, Michael's body lax to keep atop you. You feel like your ears are hearing static. Only white noise and Michael Langdon.

It's a deep-set fascination watching his cum spill back down your thighs, white and hot. You lick your lips, already starving for so much more. It's there, it has to be. Michael doesn't put himself away yet, instead hums looking over you, settling in front of you on his knees. He's gotten the key and this door is sealed behind you both.

#ahs fanfiction #michael langdon fanfiction #michael langdon #michael langdon x reader #michael langdon x you #ahs apocalypse #anon request

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ruinedbynegan · 5 years

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Closer: Chapter 19

A/N: Here’s a new chapter for you! I’ve been neglecting this story. I’m a maladaptive daydreamer, so my mind has been elsewhere lately. Let me know what you think!

I looked into his hazel eyes and I could see the sincerity in them…and the desire. I never would have expected him to give up a part of his power, even if it just stayed a secret between us. It was the whole point that he was actually considering this, considering me. His fingers began to move, sweeping along my jaw and moving to tuck a damp strand of hair behind my ear. For a moment, I allowed myself to get lost in his touch. His fingers were rough, but they felt so warm, I couldn’t help but wonder what they would feel like touching me in a much more intimate place—

“I’ve got a proposition for you,” he said, pulling me out of my thoughts. I raised an eyebrow. What could it be now?

“Give me a month. Thirty fuckin’ days with you to show you just how badly you want this. How badly you want me. If, and that’s a big fucking if, you decide you don’t want this, I’ll let you go back to your boring ass life.”

I stepped back, needing to lose the feeling of his skin on mine to think clearly. He wanted me to himself for a whole month? My wolf was jumping for joy at the thought of thirty days of Negan, but I couldn’t help but wonder about his agenda.

“What’s the catch?” I asked after a few seconds transpired.

He waved a finger back and forth. “No catch,” he said, but then his expression changed and I knew there was some stipulation he was going to add.

“Well…maybe one. You have to be yourself. No acting all shy and shit and avoiding me. No, you gotta be one hundred percent authentic as shit. Really be yourself with me. I saw a glimpse of that this morning and it was magnificent. That’s all I want from you. The rest? Hell, that will happen on its own,” he said, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively and ending with a wink.

You want him, my wolf reminded me again. And I did…his offer seemed reasonable enough. But there was still something that didn’t add up.

“What’s in it for you?” I asked.

He gave me one of his trademark grins, complete with those annoyingly cute dimples. “Why, you of course. At the end of this, I’m gonna have you by my side. Like you said this morning, we are the damn wheel. And I know for a fact that somewhere deep down, you want to be a leader, maybe even help our pack. On top of that, I’m gonna have one beautiful and kick ass woman that’s gonna be all mine.

“You seem overly confident that I’m going to give in,” I muttered unconvincingly. The more he spoke, the more I was losing my resolve to deny him. At this point, I didn’t think I could.

He shook his head. “See that’s what you’re not getting, doll. I’m not expecting you to just give in like I’m forcing you into this shit. No, somewhere along the way, you’re finally going to admit to yourself that you want me and you’re going to fucking take what you want! You’re going to be mine because you want to, not because you have to be.”

“And are you going to be mine?” I asked. The moment the words left my mouth, I wished I could take them back. The look on his face changed, his smile turning to a frown and his eyes glazing over. He looked like he was remembering something…maybe something he didn’t want to remember. But just as soon as that expression crossed his face, it left, replaced with his usual demeanor.

“We’ll fuckin’ see about that,” he said. His voice had a certain tone to it, telling me that he wasn’t truly committed to the idea of belonging to anyone.

I started to think over everything he said. Earlier today, I had somehow made up my mind that I wanted to pursue him. And now he was offering me that. At the same time, I wanted him to want to pursue me too. It wasn’t about me being stubborn…it was about wanting him to commit, if Negan committing to one woman after several was even possible.

“I have some conditions of my own,” I realized aloud.

“I’m all fucking ears, doll.”

“Okay…Well, one of your conditions is that I’m authentic and I’d like for you to be authentic too.” I paused, nervous at what he would say when I mentioned his character. “I get the impression that as the alpha, you have to show the world a certain side of you so you’ll be respected and taken seriously. But a part of me can’t help but wonder what you’re like outside of that persona.”

He grinned. “What, you think I’m a big fuckin’ softy, Carson?” He asked, somewhat teasingly. I couldn’t help but smile at that.

“Oh Negan, I’m sure of it,” I responded, the same hint of humor in my tone.

He gave a genuine laugh. “You know, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say that you’re flirting with me.”

I snorted. “Please. I’m just stating the obvious.”

Negan shrugged. “Whatever you say, doll. Now this,” he said, motioning between him and I, “is gonna be fun.”

I shook my head and looked up at him, not being able to admire the way his eyes sparkled. “You know, I haven’t agreed yet. And for the record, you never agreed to my conditions.”

He narrowed his eyes at me. “There was only one condition.”

“No,” I said. “There’s more, you just distracted me with your witty remark.”

“Oh, now you think I’m witty?” He asked playfully.

I ignored his question. “Other conditions,” I continued, “are that you do NOT mention the wolf thing to my brother whatsoever. And when you’re here, your uh— Lucille has to be put away.”

Negan looked at me, silently questioning if I was serious. And I was. There was no way in hell he was going to openly talk about being a werewolf around my brother, or wield his favorite weapon of destruction.

“Okay, first of all, does your brother not know what you are?” He asked.

I nodded. “He knows, it just…kinda freaks him out, so we don’t talk about it.”

“Weird. And secondly, do you really think I’m not going to have Lucille with me all the damn time?”

“Where is she now?” I asked, looking around us to prove a point.

“Don’t be a smart ass,” Negan quipped. “She’s in the truck.”

“So…you didn’t bring her in my house because…?”

“Because I’m in the middle of fuckin’ goddamn suburbia and I didn’t want any of your dumb ass neighbors to call the cops on me!” The annoyance in his voice was obvious, but I realized that I kind of liked making him squirm for once.

I smirked up at him. “Well then, it sounds like you’re agreeing to my terms after all.”

Negan was looking down at me like I was the most annoying thing in the world, but the creases in his eyes showed me that he liked this, our bantering.

“You agreeing to mine?”

I sighed, even though I had known my answer all along. “Yes.”

Negan grinned widely at my acceptance and stepped closer, looming over my small frame. Yet again, his scent engulfed me and drove me wild, but I managed to maintain my calm exterior. And yet again, he brought his warm hand to my face and let his fingers linger over my cheek.

“Oh baby,” he said, his voice low and husky. “This is gonna be real fun.”

#negan #twd #the walking dead #the walking dead negan #twd negan #jeffrey dean morgan #negan x oc #negan x original female character #negan fanfiction #negan series

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aurimeanswind · 7 years

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Your Favorite Video Game Franchises—Sunday Chats (10-8-17)

I know it seems like I keep using generic questions for my “Alex Asks” Sunday Chats, but hey, bear with me here. You gotta lay the groundwork for all of the best relationships.

This week I asked this:

This comes from a lot of places. This year I’ve especially been thinking about the video game lineages that have affected me or at least left the most with me over the years. Most importantly, the sequels to the two biggest video game worlds in my life, Persona and Zelda, both came out this year. It’s been kind of monumental for me. Both are interesting too, because they have me assessing and looking at what ties me to those two specific franchises.

On one, it’s so much nostalgia Zelda means more to me than most things because it’s really the franchise that made me or helped me like games as much as I do today. Watching my brother Brady playthrough The Legend of Zelda A Link to the Past, going to the mall with him when he traded in all his old games to get it, and the story that that encapsulates in my heart and in my mind is critically important to my love of games, and my relationship with the medium as it began. It’s one of those aspects that keeps me tethered to games so forcefully, so completely and utterly in the grasp of the stories and adventures in the medium and that’s where they started for me.

Years later I’d return to A Link to the Past on my own time and play through it to 100% completion by myself. It’s one of the first games I ever 100%’d, and it’s also one of the first times I ever wanted to, a habit that is all-encompassing for just about any and all video games now. I don’t do it as much as I’d like to, because I know the tradeoff of time to commitment, and if I didn’t have to/want to play every new game that came out every day, I’d certainly spend far more time just perfecting and completing them to a near insane-level.

A Link to the Past is where my lineage with games began. It’s one of the first games I’ll play with my kids in the future, if I’m ever lucky enough to have any. It’s massively important to me, and this year’s Breath of the Wild brought not only all those feelings back for me, but entirely new ones as well, as my brothers and I shared a text message thread describing our experiences with the game through the early months of this year.

On the other end of that is Persona 5, which is related to a coming-of-age in a totally different way. Persona 3 FES was one of those games that affected me on a delayed response. I beat it and I felt kind of... hollow. I was so accomplished, and it hit me so hard, and then... nothing. And then when I was laying in my bed alone that night, I just broke down crying. It was something that had genuinely touched my soul, being someone in high school and someone separated from my friends. It pulled all the right strings and hit all the right notes at all the right times.

What’s more, I had never experience any piece of media that had characters grow, and change, and evolve, and relationships with them, in such an intimate way. I loved the characters of that game, I truly did. It impacted me in full force.

Persona 3 was about overcoming insurmountable odds, believing in your friends, believing in what you had done, and fighting until you had nothing left for the betterment of all people. About the selfless act of giving yourself up for all your friends, and Persona 5 revisits a ton of those different themes as well. It’s about those same threads coming to fruition in a completely different, but also globally-impacting way, with plenty of Japanese bullshit along the way.

As I came into adolescence, Persona 3 was the game that made me realize how much I loved all that Japanese bullshit, but also I how much slower pacing worked for me, how much I prefered it. Persona 5 helps rebuild all those feelings, but also ultimately showed me how much I’ve changed and evolved since then, for both the better and worse.

These are the two most important franchises in media to my life, outside of Harry Potter. And I don’t think it’s dumb, or silly to latch onto media and fiction as absolute and important aspects of your upbringing. Myths and stories and franchises are outlets for us to learn new things, experience things we could never ourselves, broaden our horizons, and open our hearts to suffrage that we aren’t privy to. It’s also time for us to reflect on what we like and what we do, and while these two video game franchises may seem shallow to some, they aren’t to me. Whether that’s part projection, or part of something that’s absolutely there, that exact question is precisely what makes media interpretation subjective, and holding those pieces of media close to you totally okay.

So with that said, let’s look at YOUR favorite franchises in games.

Even though Cam is bad at following instructions insofar as “few tweets” is concerned, this is exactly the shit I’m talking about here. This is what I want.

What I love about this story is that this game means something so specific to you because your experience with it was so specific. Just like all games for all people. And there is of course crossover there, but art is reflected in the one who views it, and that’s what makes the discussion around games so fun. That these things reflected onto us in such completely different ways.

What you say about .dotHack reminds me of the way I am with Zelda. That there was this big world out there that only I could save. That I needed to try, and fail, and try again to succeed in that world. That people and tools and deities would help me, and that if my belief was strong I’d hold steadfast and be able to beat the big bad. These are philosophy that, though childlike, you can clearly see reflected in me to this day. And it’s because of a game like that. Without Zelda, I’d at the very least like games in a wholly different way than I do today.

Bravo Cam. I understand.

Well, while I don’t think Roger is being serious about the Frog game, even though I do vividly remember this boxart and that weird frog penis on it, it does make me think of a Frog-related game that got me into a whole different kind of franchise.

Amazing Frog, the Ouya game of all things, is what got me into Game Grumps. And it’s still an amazing episode to this day.

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Ahh my old nemesis Final Fantasy Six. And hearing you bring up FF4 here as well is really important, because I have played Four most of the way through and really love it. To know that Six can build on what was there with new and more engrossing depth makes me want to play it more as well. I love to hear when and where the scope of storytelling in games expanded for folks, because like I said for me that was kind of Persona 3, and how it could get under my skin and into my heart without me even realizing it. My view of games and their stories changed in so many ways with that game.

Of course! And Rock Band has grown into something you’ve played with friends and shared with so many others. It’s a wonderful franchise, and of all the rhythm games I’ve been bad at, Rock Band is surely the one I like the most.

Rock Band parties will always be a loving aspect of my most endearing memories with my high school friends.

Katamari is always a game I’ve only ever experience from arm’s length. I love that it not only resonated with one person, but two! I love it.

Katamari reminds me a lot of the weird Japanese games that have somehow crossed over the Pacific and also found their own niche here in the US. Persona I’d say was in the same camp, but that’s all big now. Katamari never had legions of adoring fans, but it had its passionate it ones. Few games are as carefree and fun, but also odd, and, as Jazz said, visually arresting. A game about rolling up big balls, collecting stuff, and then turning them into stars, may seem nonsensical, and it is, but it’s also just endlessly endearing.

Watching the Game Grumps play that game has been the most I’ve experienced with it, and it seems like a game you can kind of zone out and get lost in. Once again: I love it.

Uncharted is a franchise that, in my head, is like those big movie franchises like Star Wars that resonates for so many human reasons beyond its premise.

If anything, those games showed us what masterclass directors those folks at Naughty Dog are. When we look at the story and writing of something like Jak and Daxter, I’d say it’s good, but the leap to the Uncharted franchise is to another level entirely. It’s human, it’s relatable, and it slowly breaks down all the merits the franchise, and many games, are built on. How the search for adventure can become a sickness, when it starts to put so many lives on the line. It’s all with the caveat of Nathan Drake being a “mass murderer”, sure, but the games build such human characters through humor it’s incredible.

Especially Uncharted 4. Because goddamn.

All the Spoopy factor! How topical!

Resident evil is a franchise that I got to so late, it makes me wish I loved horror as a youngun’. But, regardless, Resident Evil 7 is easily one of my favorite games this year, and I adore it. Where that franchise has gone, both good and bad, from its humble beginnings, is stellar. It really sets the scenes for horror games in general, and with Mikami’s legacy continuing with The Evil Within 2 this coming week, you can clearly see that Resident Evil is at the very least one of the most influential names in all of games.

Man. Metal Gear Solid.

Especially MGS3. That’s a whole conversation on its own.

The end of Metal Gear Solid 3, even if it was lost on me long ago, was a game-changer, that’s for sure. Something like Persona 3 helped me go back and appreciate those MGS games even more, because of the more, lets say, steady indoctrination to “Japanese bullshit” then MGS’s full-throttle approach.

Another franchise I totally missed the boat on, until much much later. But I never knew this about you Andrew! Halo is definitely marvelous, and sets the scene for the modern action blockbuster video game, like an Uncharted. If anything, most of the Sony/Microsoft big action franchises wouldn't be the same, I don't’ think, if it weren’t for the Halo franchise.

For me it wasn’t Dishonored that set the scene for strong morality in games, but Fallout 3. The “Karma System” as i think it was in the game, was where I was first introduced to something like that. Sure, inFamous had it, but such a binary system doesn’t count I don’t think.

I had gotten the want to play passively from stuff like Metal Gear Solid, so that wasn’t new to me, but I love the way Dishonored ties the world to those choices. How it’s reflected not only in Corvo, but in Emily as well. It’s truly a beautiful world in games, unlike anything else out there, from its majesty, to its absolute horror as well.

It’s funny because the political angle of Bioshock is still, to some extent, over my head. Knowing Ayn Rand now and seeing how that is brought into Rapture though, reflectively, has definitely changed that experience for me. I’d have to go back and see Bioshock 2 all the way through to even begin to remember the political commentary in that game.

But Bioshock’s dueling powers that be of Andrew Ryan and Fontaine always frustrated me. Two powers that wished to usurp one another, all for the sake of more influence. with more deeper insecurities laid beneath them. It’s reflective of modern politics in a very unsettling way, and something I could never come to agree with or even empathize with. But that kind of visceral reaction is just the kind of thing video games can evoke out of the player by not just showing you a world, but by surrounding you with it.

Rapture is certainly one of the most compelling settings in all of video game history.

This so fantastic. A game introducing you to a wholly new kind of interest, in such a much more one-to-one way too! Like, I wouldn’t get really into Spelunking from playing Spelunky, that’s not a thing that happens, but Forza to being a gearhead or a car guy or whatever you want to call it totally makes sense.

Forza also has that benefit of being something really approachable too. I think it lays out exactly what it is and how to bring you into its style really well. From my brief experiences with the Forza series, that’s what I’ve taken away at least. That’s so rad!

And hell year EDM. Let’s go to an EDM concert together Jon.

I love seeing how all the franchises roped people wither into game sin a new way or into a totally new thing entirely. It helps evolve relationships, change perspective on storytelling, and more! I just adore it. Keeping play those games. Keep making those stories.

Thanks for placating my question this week everyone. Sorry to the folks that didn’t get it or didn’t read, but no answers from me this week. I will keep writing and be ready to answer them next week, but until then, hey:

keep it real.

#video games #gaming #franchises #enfranchisement #persona #shin megami tensei #the legend of zelda

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