Michael Langdon Imagines/Smuts x Reader

I'll Show You Sin (Church Of Satan) [Smut]

(Original draft written 1/3/19
Published 1/19/19

This took forever but damn it was worth it! The endings on these things need a bit of work but I hope you like it anyway!) 

You stood with the congregation, clad in your red robe decorated with a pentagram, watching the newcomer Michael slit the throats of two do gooders.
His movements were smooth, almost elegant as he took the knife and pressed their heads together, the Sinner's Quior's chanting echoing throughout the room.
You watched his expression, cold and emotionless, he barely even blinked as he pulled the knife across their throats in a single effortless motion.
The blood poured from their throats as the two lifeless bodies fell to the floor in unison, leaving Michael standing above them without a single drop of blood to be seen on him.
The congregation, including you immediately fell to their knees, praising the Antichrist.

After the bodies were cleaned up and everyone rushed around to prepare dinner for the chosen one, Michael sat in one of the pews, staring up at the large pentagram on the wall with the same expressionless look on his face.
Little did he know, you were standing in the back, watching him.
He intrigued you, he was nothing like you expected, he was nothing like anyone had expected.
You always pictured a decaying, demonic looking creature as the Antichrist.
Michael was much better than that. He looked like an angel.
He was young, tall and blonde, with piercing blue eyes and the features of a god.
But underneath all of his captivating beauty lied the dark power of Satan himself, evident in what you had just witnessed.

You step out of the dark room and walk up the aisle towards where Michael is sitting.
He looks up at you as you approach him, that same cold stare still lingering in his eyes.
"That was quite the ceremony." You say, the admiration evident in your voice.
"Thanks." Michael says, looking past you, returning his gaze to the pentagram on the wall.
"May I sit?" You ask, gesturing to the empty spot on the pew.
"There's plenty of other seats." He replies bluntly.
You don't completely ignore his statement as you take a seat in the pew directly behind him instead.
"What you did, that was sin at it's finest." You say.
Michael laughs, his eyes still fixed ahead of him, "You and I obviously have very different ideas of sin then."
He states sarcastically, as he turns his gaze towards you.
"What do you mean?" You ask confused, "Murder is the best kind of sin."
Your response earns another laugh from Michael as he looks back ahead of him.
"This church has a fucked up idea of sin then." He says coldly, sarcasm still evident in his tone.
You look at him, confused and angered by his response.
He's the Antichrist, shouldn't he be praising the actions of his devoted followers?
"I don't understand what you're talking about." You say.
"You don't kill because you want to. You're killing because you feel like you have to." He replies, standing up and walking toward the altar where he had just slain two people, "Sin is about giving into your most twisted desires." He turns to face you, beginning to walk towards you, "If you have the desire to kill, you kill because you want to, not because you have to."
He stops next to you, leaning down so you are eye to eye. He stares into your eyes for a moment before continuing, "Same goes for any other desire you have. All of your sick and twisted desires, give into them." He smirks, leaning in even closer to you, making your heart begin to race, "The more wicked, the better. Because if you want to get Satan's attention my Dear, you sin of your own free will, not by some testimony given by some idiots clad in robes in an abandoned building." He growls, staring at you for a moment longer before standing back up.
You didn't speak, you only played his words over and over in your head, and it all made sense to you.

Michael walks back up to the altar, staring up at the pentagram with his arms wrapped around his chest.
He stared at it with that cold stare in his eyes, as if he hated it. And he couldn't stop looking at it, like his eyes were glued to it and he couldn't look away. It was almost like he was staring it down.
He laughs quietly, shaking his head, picking up his knife from atop the altar, "I don't know what I had expected from this church, but this definitely isn't it. It's pathetic." He spits as he tosses it onto the floor, sending it sliding across the room.
"I believe you." You say, standing up from the pew and walking towards the altar.
He rolls his eyes as he turns to face you, "Tell me oh dear believer, what made you turn to Satanism?" He asks sarcastically.
"I like killing." You say bluntly, catching Michael by surprise with your response. "The first time I killed somebody, it was an accident." You continue, "But I liked it. I wanted more, so I killed again. And again. And again. Until it got a little out of hand and I was forced to stop. I didn't want to stop, I wanted to continue fulfilling my desires to kill. So I joined the Church of Satan. To be able keep killing, and be safe from anyone finding out or trying to stop me."
Michael's smirk grew wider, and for a moment you thought he was intrigued by your story, until he began laughing.
"So that's what this place is? A haven for serial killers? You're kidding?"
You just stare at him unamused, not bothering to give him a response.
"I'll admit you are giving into your desires, but at this point isn't it just for fun?" He says, his voice taking on a more serious tone, "That's not sin. That's just straight up murder."
"Then what is sin?" You ask him, taking a step closer to him, to show that you were not intimisated by him.
"You want to know what true sin is?" He says as he starts to walk towards you, not stopping until there is nothing separating your bodies, "I'll show you sin."
He grabs the collar of your robe pulling you in and kissing you hungrily.
He pulls away, staring into your eyes. His face was no longer cold and expressionless, his eyes were now filled with lust as they dialated, turning a deep shade of blue, almost black.