#and his are thin and spread evenly LMFAO

[skunkes]

i was (supportively) wondering what drew you to silco but after you posted that thing of him in bed with the mask and his jammies on i realized he's just talon 2 for you

yes.... Distant hot older kinda evil wrinkled man/dilf with a gorgeous nose who hates me...talon's nicer and more readily clingy and annoying though

[icyharrington]

Sinful Thoughts (Michael Langdon X Reader) Part 1

ok now that i read this over i lowkey hate the way it turned out, but i spent a lot of time on it so im gonna post it anyways lmfao. y’all wanted sexual tension, so sexual tension you shall receive! 

plot: you’re the epitome of a good christian girl. michael langdon intends to ruin that.

warnings: high school au, fem!Reader, masturbation, sexual tension, no actual smut

word count: 2.7k

i.

“Alright, last pairing. (Y/n), your lab partner will be Michael Langdon.”

You were sure the color drained from your face, because a collective snicker spread itself throughout the classroom the minute you registered your teacher’s words. You’d always hated group projects. Even worse to you were involuntary pairings. Especially when it meant that you were now obligated to do your school project with the weirdly flirtacious kid who lived across the street from you.

You froze, looking across the classroom to the boy who’d been named. He smiled at you innocently, hands crossed neatly in front of him. Your stomach lurched.

“Uh, Ms. Calvin? Would it be okay if I, um, worked by myself instead? I don’t mind taking on the extra work.” You swallowed nervously. More laughter from your classmates, which you did not acknowledge.

Your teacher frowned, emphasizing the deep-set lines in her face. “If I let you work alone, I’d have to let everyone work alone. This project is meant to be completed with a partner.”

You sighed, trying not to seem too distressed as you fidgeted with the sleeves of your pale pink sweater. “Then could I possibly get a new partner?”

“Ms. (Y/l/n), sometimes we are dealt things in life that are not ideal to us. Michael is a perfectly capable young man, and you will work with him.”

“But-“

“Unless you have a valid reason not to work with Mr. Langdon, he will remain as your lab partner.”

You ran your tongue over your bottom lip. What was the reason you were so opposed to working with him? He hadn’t done anything to you, not really. You’d known him since he’d first moved into the neighborhood two years back- from the second you’d saw him, clad in all black with a confident stride, he made you nervous.

Of course, there was also the fact that he seemed to love making you uncomfortable. He’d make some sort of flirtatious comment nearly every time your paths crossed, and it made your insides churn. But still- it was possible he wasn’t even aware that he was being flirtatious, though you doubted that from the way his eyes would glint each time he’d make you blush.

The bell rang, jarring you, and you tucked your books away into your sensible messenger bag. Then you tugged gently on the dainty cross which hung around your neck on a thin gold chain. You always fiddled with it when you were feeling anxious; it brought you comfort to feel the smooth symbol under your fingers.

You nearly jumped out of your skin when somebody leaned on your desk, placing both hands palm-down with a startling thud. You didn’t even have to look up to see who it was: you saw a leather jacket and black button-up, along with large hands adorned with several rings.

“That wasn’t very nice of you,” came a smooth, slightly mocking voice. “What’s so bad about being my partner?”

You looked up timidly, flinching slightly under the boy’s piercing blue gaze. “Nothing. I just- um.” Your voice trailed off, and you realized it probably hadn’t been the wisest choice to request a new partner in front of the entire class.

“You just what?” He tilted his head to the side, widening his eyes. “You has no problem voicing your thoughts a minute ago.”

Since looking into his eyes was making you impossibly nervous, you tried instead to focus on his hair, which even you had to admit was lovely. “I just think we’d both work better with other partners.”

He shook his head, allowing his blond waves to fall in front of his eyes. “I’ve been nothing but nice to you, (y/n),” he said softly. “Perhaps you’d like me better if I weren’t so nice?”

You scoffed, and he cocked an eyebrow at you, seemingly pleased with your defiance as a grin began forming across his full lips.

“You’ve never been nice. You just love to make me uncomfortable.”

“If anything I’ve said has made you uncomfortable, then that’s on you.” He stood up straight, drumming his fingers on the black belt around his slim waist. “Why would you think I care enough to try and make you squirm?”

You pushed back in your chair and jumped to your feet, throwing your bag over your shoulder. “Just- don’t talk to me unless it’s about the project.”

“So we’ll meet on Friday, then?” he grinned at you, baring his perfectly straight teeth.

“I am not going to your house,” you snapped. “You can come to mine.”

“Fine with me. I’d love to see the way a girl like you lives.”

“I’m not even going to ask you what that’s supposed to mean,” you muttered, walking around your desk so you wouldn’t have to cross paths with Michael on your way out.

“Oh, (y/n)?” he said, just as you were about to leave. Back still to him, you grimaced.

“What?”

“That’s a nice necklace you’ve got on.”

Your hand flew up to your neck, caressing the cool metal frantically. In your head, a prayer repeated itself over and over; you shut your eyes, hoping it’d calm you down, but for the first time in your life, it didn’t.

ii.

The week went by impossibly fast, and before you knew it, it was Friday. You’d almost forgotten the plans you’d made with Michael— almost— but Michael had made sure to cheerily remind you that morning as you left your house to leave for school.

Now it was 3:59. He was supposed to come over at 4. Your palms sweat profusely as you waited in the living room, and you wiped them on your modest knee-length skirt.

You hoped maybe, by some miracle, he’d forget. But you knew that would never happen. He was looking forward to this, looking forward to getting under your skin.

The clock on your phone switched briskly to 4:00, and you winced. There was a beat, and then came three sturdy knocks on your front door. Of course he’d show up at 4 on the dot. What else had you expected?

You stood up and fixed your hair, hoping he wouldn’t be able to sense the intense anxiety coursing through you. Then you made your way to the door and swung it open, letting out shallow breaths in an attempt to compose yourself.

He stood there on your welcome mat, backpack slung over his shoulder and smirk on his lips. He made no attempt to conceal the way his eyes traveled over your body, and you shifted, uneasy. “Michael. Come in.”

“You seem enthused,” he said, brushing past you and into your home without a second thought.

You turned around, watching him enter your living room, his head turning to observe every last detail. His lips curved upwards slightly as he regarded the various religious symbols mounted on the wall- an old-fashioned crucifix, a simple wooden cross, a framed painting of Jesus that your mom had bought at a yard sale. Then his eyes fell upon the leather-bound bible on the coffee table, and he chuckled.

“What?” you demanded, narrowing your eyes at him.

“Nothing,” he sang, shoving his hands in the pockets of his jacket and flashing you a close-mouthed smile. You returned it with a straight face, entirely unamused.

“Wait here while I get my stuff,” you said, turning on your heel and heading for the stairs. “And don’t follow me.”

You made your way up the carpeted steps, tensing as you could practically feel his eyes bore into you from behind. All at once you felt self-conscious, and you wished you’d changed into a pair of sweatpants instead of staying in your skirt.

When you got up to your room you let out a breath, immediately relieved once you were out of his admittedly intimidating presence. You walked over to your desk, impeccably tidy save for your biology binder set in the middle.

“Hm. Looks exactly like I expected,” came a drawling voice in the doorway, and you jumped.

“I thought I told you not to follow me,” you said through grit teeth, jaw clenching as you tucked your binder under your arm. That was strange, you thought, the way he’d snuck up on you without you hearing his footsteps on the stairs. He ignored you and tilted his head quizzically, running his fingers along the rosary hanging off your doorknob.

“Don’t touch that,” you said, and he let it drop, beads bouncing noisily against the wooden door.

“So you really believe all this Jesus shit, huh?” he said, amused, taking a few steps inside.

“Get out of my room,” you said in as firm a tone you could muster, but you were surprised when your voice trembled.

He looked at the wooden cross hanging above your bed, and then down at the blue blanket and matching pillows, positioned evenly and smoothed out. You felt vulnerable, somehow, knowing that he now had an image in his mind of where you slept.

“Everything in here is so impossibly perfect,” he stated, running his fingers idly along the frame of your bed. “You want to be perfect, don’t you? You want to be mommy and daddy’s perfect little Christian girl.”

You stared at him, feet planted to the ground as you tried to come up with something to say. He sounded so sure of himself, like he’d been inside your mind and was simply reciting the facts. You wanted to punch him right between those hooded blue eyes, but something inside you prevented you from moving.

“I assume you’re saving yourself for marriage?” he continued, coming closer to you with a smug expression on his handsome face. You willed your feet to move, and your eyes widened when you realized you literally were unable to. Panic rose in your throat, contrasting harshly with his cool exterior.

“None of your business,” you spat, curling your fingers into your palm to try and conceal the silver purity ring you’d been given at church camp several years ago. He laughed, stopping in front of you.

“You’ve never even kissed a boy, have you?”

He craned neck slightly, just looking at you. Then he reached up and tucked two fingers beneath your chin, tilting it up so you could look at him. “And I’m certain you’ve never touched yourself.”

Your face burnt up at his words, and you knew he was enjoying watching the redness creep across your face. He was mere inches away from you now, smiling serenely as you tried your hardest to pull back.

“I’ll even bet that every time you feel that ache between your legs, you drop to your fucking knees and beg god for forgiveness,” he whispered, breath hot on your face.

“Shut up,” you mumbled, focusing all your energy on trying to move. What was keeping a hold on you? It couldn’t possibly be Michael- how would he be able to do something like that?

“Because good Christian girls aren’t allowed to feel carnal pleasure,” he said, brushing his thumb over your bottom lip. “Are they?”

His hand moved from your face to your neck, his pace painfully slow. Your breath hitched when his fingers reached the thin chain around your neck, toying with it for a moment before continuing downwards. He took the cross in his hand and surveyed it, running his thumb across it as he leveled it in his palm.

Before you could do anything, he let go, and all at once the hold on you seemed to break. You pushed him back, hard, silently thanking god for freeing you.

“Leave. And don’t come back. I’ll do the whole project myself. You can take credit for half, I don’t even care.”

He let out a low chuckle. “I’ll let you get back to your prayers.”

You eyed him as he turned around and left, following him to the top of the stairs and watching as he left through the front door. You waited a minute before returning to your room, fixated on the door as if Michael might change his mind and burst through it. Your heart hammered against your ribcage as a familiar, unwelcome sensation began radiating from between your thighs, which you intended to ignore as usual.

You were so distracted by the thoughts of what on earth had just happened that you almost didn’t notice the small change that had been made in your room.

The cross above your bed- which you could’ve sworn had been upright when you followed Michael out- was now, plain as day, upside down.

iii.

You blinked twice, mind foggy as you took a step forward, toes curling at the feeling of cold wood against your bare soles.

You looked down; you were naked, skin dotted over with clusters of goosebumps as your hair stood on end. Your nipples hardened at the low temperature, and all at once you realized you could see your breath in front of you.

You heard something stir from afar, and finally you averted your attention to the opposite end of the room. You were in a church, it appeared, the pews of which were empty. The noise you’d heard had come from behind the altar, and it quickly became apparent that somebody was standing behind it.

Your mouth went dry. It was Michael. His face was heavily shadowed, but from his stature alone you knew it was him. He, too, was naked, at least as far as you could see from the portion of his body that was visible.

A chill rolled up your spine and you wrapped your arms around your stomach, shivering as the cold set into your bones. Michael raised one hand, and though his eyes were obscured with shadows, you knew they were settled on you, your body.

From his fingertips, a flame ignited. He rolled his wrist back, cupping his hand around the flame as it grew. Then he flicked his hand forward, and you stumbled backwards as each pew went up in flames, the rich scent of burning wood invading your lungs. Your skin prickled at the feeling of unbridled warmth enveloping you, and from your throat spilled a grateful moan.

“Touch me, and never again will you freeze,” came a booming voice, loud enough to bring you to your knees. You realized that Michael was now much closer to you than he had been before, standing bare as he looked down upon you. You reached for him without shame, lips parting, and before you could feel him, everything went black.

“Michael-“ you croaked.

Your eyes shot open; you were in your bed, legs entangled in a mess of sweat-stained sheets. It took several seconds to collect yourself, and once you finally had, you discovered that your hand was slipped underneath your underwear and buried between your thighs.

“Oh my-“ you stopped yourself from finishing the sentence, removing your hand as if it’d been burnt. Running your hand over the fabric of your underwear, you were alarmed to find that it was completely soaked through.

Face flushing with guilt, you groaned at the pounding coming from your core. It almost scared you how badly you wanted to touch, how badly you wanted to slip your fingers up inside yourself and ride them until you couldn’t hold back the screams.

There was something seriously wrong with you. Usually you were able to ignore the feelings, but with each passing second the throbbing intensified, causing you to squirm restlessly. Images of Michael flashed through your mind, the filthy words he’d spoken to you earlier vibrating in your ears, and you bit your lower lip hard enough to draw blood. Your hips bucked up towards nothing involuntarily; your chest rose and fell hard, one hand settled on your breast through your sleep shirt.

It’s not right, you thought, applying slight pressure to your nipple before drawing your hand back. You squeezed your eyes shut, moving your lips silently as you methodically recited prayer after prayer in your mind, hoping to find the strength to ignore the feeling and go back to sleep.

It felt like an eternity had passed before you fell back to sleep, and when you woke up the next morning, you couldn’t help but feel disgusted with yourself, sneering at your reflection in the mirror for being so goddamned weak.

You didn’t know what kind of spell Michael had cast over you, making you think such vulgar thoughts, but you were sure of one thing: Michael Langdon was nothing but trouble.