#tate langdon fanfiction | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ashes-writing · 1 year

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** all images made by me. prompt credits go to the makers of the lists I used which can be found[ here ] [here] [ here ] [ here ] [ here ] [ here ] [ here ] [here] [here]and [here] - a huge thanks to all the wicked talented creators of these prompt lists. **

𝚍𝚊𝚢 𝚏𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚝𝚎𝚎𝚗 - 𝚌𝚞𝚍𝚍𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐

↪ summary

--- cuddling in bed on a rainy day with your best friend Tate..

↪ pairing / fandom

--- female!reader x Tate Langdon - AHS:MurderHouse.

↪ warnings

--- Tate is a ghost here. I repeat, Tate is a ghost. Reader has female parts despite nothing being mentioned about her definitively. Kissing, lustful touching / making out and implied sex, angsty fluff anyone?

↪ taglist, babes

--- my taglist is [here] if you'd like to be on it. @tbmunson listen, if not for you listening / talking to me about this, this never would've come about -even though it did take a v. interesting -and kinda angsty, turn... I hope you like it.

@hajimaaaaaa

@innagnv

@krys-orion

The rain hit the bedroom window softly, a sound almost relaxing enough to lull you into sleep. The glow of your favorite scented candles flickered against the walls and you hit play on your DVD player’s remote just as the door to your bedroom squeaked open slowly to reveal Tate leaning in the door frame.

“Tate, hey.”

He shuffles in quietly and flops himself down on the overstuffed queen sized bed, propping on his elbows as the Peanuts theme song starts. You can feel his gaze shift to you and you look over at him, a chocolate coated marshmallow cookie poised at your mouth. “What?” you ask.

“Nothin, it’s..” Tate chuckles as his words trail off. “This is what you’re doin all day?” he gestures at the television set and gazes at you expectantly. You raise to sit, shrugging. The sound of your mother and Constance’s drunken laughter floats into the room through the crack in the door and almost immediately, you roll your eyes. “It’s only noon, are they serious?”

“It’s five o’clock somewhere, I guess.” Tate responds, a small shrug as he mumbles something under his breath that you can’t quite understand. He gazes at you while you’re not looking, as you slip off your bed to make your way over and close your bedroom door all the way. You know he’s watching you because you can feel his gaze on you and it’s heavy enough that your breath hangs in your throat.

You didn’t want to be that cliche, girl falls in love with her best guy friend but sadly, here you are. And you’ve fallen hard and fast for Tate. The bad part of it all is that your gut keeps telling you something is off, something is being hidden from you and just as your eyes settle on a pair of kissable lips and you’re thinking about how nice it might be to kiss him, that gut instinct starts up again.

But you’d rather enjoy spending time with him than listen to it, so you do your best to shove it all down and ignore it. It works, then again, when doesn’t it?

The rain is falling harder now. A little faster too. When the electricity blinks for a minute or two, you hold your breath and Tate can feel the way you’ve tensed up all over. He knows enough about your past to know where your mind is going, so he slips an arm around you and pulls you into his side really close. “It’s alright, sweetheart. Everything is fine.”

“I know. It’s just this stupid storm.”

“Yeah, I know.” Tate answers, smoothing your hair out of your eyes as he tucks it behind your ear. The two of you settle into the bed and you pull up the heavy gray comforter as you try to tuck your body as close to his as you can get it for warmth.

Your mom’s always telling you that you’re ‘not allowed’ to date Tate Langdon, the boy next door. She says he’s a bad kid and there’s something off about him but she hasn’t bothered to take the time to get to know him, not like you have. He’s sweet and sensitive and funny, with a dark humor that matches yours.

Tate slips an arm around you and he squeezes his eyes shut, he’s wishing once again that he was alive and things were normal. He’s wishing he wasn’t a tragedy magnet with a fucked up past and he’s wishing that this moment would never end, though Violet’s already nagging him to remind him sooner or later, it has to.

You roll so that you’re facing him and your leg slips between his. “Tate?”

Your soft whisper draws him out of his own thoughts. The daze he was in is shattered and he blinks at you. “Yeah?”

“I..I wanna…” you sigh and shake your head, frowning at yourself. “Nevermind.”

You’ve looked down so Tate tilts your chin so that you have to look up at him again. “No, no. Not nevermind. Tell me what’s on your mind.”

“I.. I wanna kiss you.” it’s quiet enough that he has to ask you to repeat yourself and somehow, you manage to but it’s not without a lot of stammering and fumbling for words. When you finally say it loud enough that he hears you, he grins, despite knowing that if you knew the truth you probably wouldn’t want to kiss him. You probably wouldn’t even want him around and you’d definitely think he was evil.

“You do, huh?” Tate chuckles, wrapping his arms around you as he pulls you against him, flush with his body. He’s thankful that you haven’t noticed how cold he always seems to be -or the fact that if you really paid attention, you wouldn’t feel a pulse or a heart beat. If he were alive right now, his heart would be racing and probably about to explode and this… It scares him. It’s something he told himself after Violet stopped loving him that he never wanted to feel again.

“I do. I really do. C-can I?” you stammer a little, giving this shy little look that has him melting. Tate shakes his head and leans in, his mouth bumping against your soft lips clumsy and tentative. “How about this, sweetheart… I kiss you first.”

“O-okay.” you’re staring up at him with shocked big eyes as you swallow down a lump in your throat and your heart feels like it’ll explode at any second. One of his hands raises and it tangles in the hair at the back of your head as he leans down and into your mouth, thick tongue sweeping between your lips to catch against your own and take dominance in the kiss as it deepens. At some point, you rub yourself against him just a little, and it’s cute, awkward and clumsy because he knows you don’t know what you’re doing and how much he already wants you. Before he can stop himself he’s rocking right back into you, a hand on your hip to sort of guide your clumsy movements. You’re panting, now and then a whine slips out and it’s swallowed by the hunger in the kiss.

The movie you were watching is forgotten and finally, just so you don’t miss it, Tate pulls an arm away to fumble around on your nightstand and find the remote, pausing the DVD. “We can watch this later, alright?”

You’re nodding. Giving him this cute little shy smile as he sits down the remote again and turns his attention back to you….

— a few hours later

After watching It’s The Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown and then watching Nightmare on Elm Street and one or two other horror movies, you somehow managed to doze off together. And it’s not unusual for it to happen, but tonight feels different. Tate is the first one to wake back up to darkness outside the big bay windows. He knows he needs to get going, get back down to the basement so you don’t think something is up, but he just can’t.

See, his mind is replaying everything that happened earlier. The way clumsy and gentle touches turned a little more needy as he undressed you and you undressed him. He can still feel your body pinned beneath his and the way you clenched around him while he was inside you, with every single stuffed animal you own bearing witness as he made you beg for him.

He grins lazily and extracts your arms from his body, pulling up the covers over you so you don’t get cold during the night. Then he leans down to smooth your hair out of your face and he presses a gentle kiss to your forehead. “Night, angel.”

You mumble something and for a second, Tate almost swears that you’ve just told him you loved him or you’ve asked him to stay and every part of him wants to but every part of him knows that he can’t.

Because Violet is right. Sooner or later, he’s going to have to tell you everything and somehow, knowing this has kind of tainted things for him.

Not enough to leave you alone, of course. But enough that he’s constantly thinking about it and dwelling on it and coming up with any excuse to put it off just a little longer.

Because whether he likes it or not, he’s in love again. And this time, it just feels different.

#tate langdon #tate langdon imagine #tate langdon fanfiction #tate langdon x fem!reader #tate langdon x fem!reader imagine #tate langdon x fem!reader fanfiction #<- safe for everyone. a general tag for my safe to read works.#-> female reader ; vague - female parts and that's it.#<- fall into fall 2022 writing.

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filthyfluffyfantasies · 8 months

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masterlist ┅ tate langdon

You’ve reached my masterlist for ( tate langdon ). Below is a complete and mostly up-to-date list of pieces I have written for ( tate langdon ) and a little list of symbols and their meanings to better help you find exactly what you’re looking for.

Happy reading, my darling!

NSFW

Alphabet

↪ here

Headcanons

↪ here

Interludes

↪ here

SFW

Alphabet

↪ here

Headcanons

↪ here

Interludes

↪ here

OTHER

Fic Name

↪ info post

#tate langdon #tate langdon fanfiction #tate langdon fic #tate langdon x reader #tate langdon x self insert #tate langdon x you #fandom file : american horror story murder house ; character - tate langdon

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yes-divine-ruler · 9 months

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(18+!!) ok wait so… It’s Halloween… you’re out with Tate… he can’t keep it together because your costume makes him horny.

Tate holds your hand tightly as you both venture down the sidewalk. His costume is eerily familiar. He wears a long, black trench coat and his face had been painted in likeness to a skeleton. His blonde, usually curly, hair is slicked back out of his face. His grip on your hand tightens as you pass by other people your age, some shamelessly taking in the appearance of your revealing costume. Much to Tate’s annoyance, you insisted that Halloween was the one time of year you had an excuse to dress like you were begging for it. The delicate lace that decorates your cleavage distracts Tate more than once. His cock strains against the zipper of his jeans just from lingering beside you. At times, he takes a moment to trail behind you to catch a glimpse of the mounded flesh of your ass cheeks from under your tiny skirt. You know what his game is, of course, and occasionally brush the back of your hand across the front of his jeans. Tate doesn’t take to it lightly, and after teasing him for the forth, and final, time, he has no choice but to trap you behind a big, oak tree in the park and bend you over. His fingers make quick work of your panties, tugging the thin, soaked piece of fabric down your long legs. Your ass jiggles around his hand as he sinks his fingers into your dripping cunt, curling them upwards to press against your sweet spot. “Thought you could tease me and get away with it? In that little, slutty costume?” He mumbles huskily against the shell of your ear, tickling his nose with the freshly-washed hair on the side of your head. You smelt like vanilla, and a hint of coconut. A sweet and sensual scent that had Tate moaning softly against you. Tate spits, directly onto your needy cunt, using his fingertips to spread the saliva over your pulsing clit. “Tate, please, I need you inside me,” you plead, reaching around to grasp onto his throbbing cock, sure to be staining his boxers with smears of pre-cum. Tate unveils his rock-hard length, stroking it with a mix of your arousal and his saliva. He teases you, circling your entrance with the leaking tip of his cock. Caving to his own eagerness, it’s not long before Tate is stretching you out with his girth. Your fingernails dig into the flaking bark of the tree, trying your hardest to find the leverage you need to soften each ravaging thrust. Soft whimpers turn into loud, destitute moans. Tate’s hand wraps around your mouth to stop the ruckus you’re making in an attempt to shield you from the eyes of passer-byers. “That’s it baby, take my fucking cock. You love how it fills you to the fucking brim, don’t you?” Tate’s grip on you only get tighter as he slams into your poor, little cunt, using it to alleviate his painful desire for you. Stars appear behind your closed eyelids when Tate’s free hand slithers down between your body and the trunk of the tree to stimulate your swollen clit. “Uh fuck- can feel you squeezing tight around me, let up sweetheart, you’re going to make me cum,” Tate seethes behind clenched teeth, the lewd, squelching sounds each thrust pulls from your dripping cunt pushing you both a step towards release. It’s not long before the intense pleasure of Tate’s tip nudging against your sweet spot sends you over the edge. Tate holds you up as your orgasm washes over you in big, tremulous waves. Tate growls into your hair, a few last thrust just enough for him to let go inside of your clenching walls. When he pulls out, he’s quick to pull up your panties, rubbing over the cloth to make sure his cum stays with you. “You’re gonna walk around the rest of the night with these soaking wet panties. And I don’t want to hear a single complaint. You little tease.” He tucks himself away, and taking a hold of your hand again, he begins to pace down the sidewalk like nothing happened. Even though, you can barely stand on your two feet from how weak your legs are now.

#evan peters #evan peters fanfic #evan peters fanfiction #evan peters requests #evan peters smut #evan peters imagine #evan peters x reader #american horror story #2nd person pov #fem!reader #tate langdon fanfic #tate langdon x reader #tate langdon smut #tate langdon imagine #tate langdon #ahs murder house #ahs smut #ahs fandom #ahsfx

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alittlesil · 8 months

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let me distract you

Tate Langdon x Fem!Reader ♥️

a/n: hey :) i secretly enjoy writing and after a quick talk abt it with @lilthbunny i decided to post some of my fics here! hope it’s not so bad so pls enjoy

summary: you study too much and Tate decides to slightly distract you 🌸

warnings: 18+, oral (f receiving)

(pic from pinterest)

Summer is almost there.

It’s almost there, and it means that you have exams in your college.

Another day of the endless studying in your dark, dusty room. A lot of textbooks are scattered on the bed mixed with notebooks, and you're lying there typing something quickly on your laptop - you need to watch another lecture… your brain aches already, your eyes narrow in the darkness of the room, you’re completely exhausted of this shit. When you type the last letter on your laptop, you feel someone’s presence nearly.

With a sigh, you take your notebook again, starting to write something and not paying any attention to the blond guy, who already took a seat on the bed with you. With a muffled tired groan, his head literally falls down on your tummy, and his hands stroke your sides gently.

“Y/n, come ooon”, he groans again, looking up at you with his dark puppy eyes. “You’ve been studying for three days in a row, i’m tired of just watching you laying here, reading and writing.”

You sigh tiredly, but feel really bad for ignoring your boyfriend this way, even knowing how much he always craves your attention. “Tate, you know this test is important.” Your fingers eventually slipped into his golden, soft curls, playing with them, as your gaze’s still locked with the notebook. You bit your lower lip, trying to focus on the study tasks, when the young boy starts to kiss your stomach through the cloth of your top, and of course you didn’t wear bra… and of course Tate notices it, when your nipples become harder because of simple kisses on your body. He smirks slyly.

“But that doesn’t mean you have to study all weekend… look at you. You look exhausted.” He said, and his fingers quickly slip under the cloth and touch your bare skin on your sides and stomach. Tate leans in and nuzzles your neck, and you unintentionally put your notebook aside. His hot breath hits your skin, as he whispers: “Someone here wants you to take a breath. Let me distract you for a while.”

You almost moaned just at these words, as your fingers tug on his hair softly and your lips curl into a slight smirk. “I think i can’t say no in this position.”

Tate smiles and immediately pulls your top off, his palms cupping your breasts, as he connects his lips with yours in a hungry, desperate kiss. Oh, this boy missed this feeling of your smooth skin in his hands, of your soft lips against his - it was only 3 days without you guys having intimacy, but for him it felt like eternity. His hot tongue brushes against your lips in a silent question, and you part your lips slightly, allowing him to slip in, while his slender fingers knead your tits.

His mouth starts to move lower - his hot lips on your neck, on your chest, on your tummy, and you can already feel how your underwear gets more wet with each second.

“That’s… a very… good… mhmhmm… decision…” He groans into your skin in between kisses, as his lips wander lower and lower. His hands reach for the buttons of your jeans, and eventually he pulls them down your legs, leaving you in your panties only. Tate pulls away, admiring the view - he always craves you, your body, your touch, no matter what, and seeing you naked (or almost naked) is enough for him to get hard within a second. His fingers trace along your bare thighs gently, as he suddenly changes the position - now you’re sitting on the edge of the bed, and this boy with golden curls is kneeling in front of you, spreading your thighs. You bit your lower lip in anticipation, as his lips slowly make their way up your thigh, getting closer and closer to the spot where you crave them the most and shamelessly teasing you. Tate’s fingers reach to the waistband of your panties, tugging on it slightly.

“Let me..?” He whispers in a hushed breath, looking up at you, and this sight only can make you cum twice.

“Tate, just do it, please…” You whimper, tugging on his hair, and he lets out a soft growl, as his lips connect with your underwear, and you gasped at the sensation - it feels so good, but you need so much more… “D-don’t tease! Take these off…” You whine, and Tate smirks, enjoying how much you want him back. He can’t refuse you, and in a second your panties fall down on the floor. His slender finger runs between your folds, collecting the wetness, and he even moans quietly, seeing how eager you already are.

You shiver, and a soft whimper escapes your lips, when you feel his finger touching you. Tate pulls it away and replaces it with his soft, tender lips, and now you can’t hold back a proper moan. Your grip in his hair tightens, as he started to literally eat you out, his tongue circles around your clit and slips inside you, making you scream in pure pleasure. You pull his head closer, and Tate moans at your eagerness, continuing his adorable assault on your pussy. Your arousal mixes with his saliva, and when he sucks on your clit, you let out another loud moan.

“So loud for such a sweet girl”, he chuckles quietly, swallowing, and then suddenly entering you with his middle finger. You threw your head back, covering your mouth with your free hand just not to scream so loud that the whole neighbourhood could hear you. You squeeze your thighs unintentionally, and Tate chuckles against your clit - the vibrations send a shiver down your spine. He starts to move his finger painfully slow, and you thrust your hips, meeting his motions. When he feels that you begin to clench around his finger, he adds the second one and licks on your clit faster, but gentler.

“F-fuck, Tate!” You whine again, not able to contain yourself. “I- Oh, I think i’m gonna cum-“

Your words make him grow even harder in his jeans. “Don’t worry”, he chuckles, pulling away for a second. “I ain’t stopping.”

You whine, and with one last thrust of his fingers, finally achieve your climax. It feels like an explosion: your walls clench around his hand, the arousal dripping down your thighs, and Tate gladly licks every single drop of it. This familiar feeling of powerful wave of pleasure makes you gasp for the air, and you lay down on your back, trying to calm down. Tate pulls away from your thighs, his chin glistens with your wetness, and he wipes it away with a sleeve of his striped sweater. He crawls towards you, laying down next to your body.

“God, you’re beautiful.” He whispers, kissing your temple, and you reach up to him, smashing your lips against his - he kisses you back sloppily, still caressing your bare thigh with one hand. He then looks at you with a cocky smile and leans his head on your shoulder, breathing in your scent.

“I guess I should study even more if it means that you’re going to distract me from it like this every time…” You scoff, starting to play with his hair once again, making Tate purr.

“I don’t mind spending most of my time ‘distracting’ you.”

#evan peters #american horror story #ahs murder house #tate langdon #tate langdon smut #evan peters smut #tate langdon x reader #tate langdon x y/n #evan peters x reader #evan peters x y/n #ahs fandom #ahs fanfic #tate langdon fanfic #evan peters fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #smut

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missuswalker · 5 months

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𝐧𝐨 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧 || 𝐩𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐚𝐱𝐢𝐦𝐨𝐟𝐟 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

✮ summary: after peter finishes… well, you know, he can’t stop himself from coming to see you. as if he’s not clingy enough, he can’t help but be all over you. at least he’s (trying) to sit still for once

✮ warnings: brief nsfw content, masturbation (not proofread)

✮ notes: man idk i just feel like peter is all clingy and touchy after he nuts

peter’s mind had been on you all day, trapped on the image of your hand wrapped around his cock. of course, that wasn’t exactly the case at the moment, considering it was his own hand. as he pumped himself, he tried his best to remember that little face you make when you cum. he’d been working on this problem of his for way longer than he should have, and he was searching for anything to push him over the edge.

the more he thought about you, your pretty tits, and that hella tight skirt, the closer he could feel his release building. picking up his pace, he bites back a whimper. more thoughts of you didn’t help his attempt at silence, a grunt or two escaping his lips. he pushes his head further back into his pillow, squeezing his eyes shut. free hand balled into a fist, he lets out a low moan, cumming all over his stomach and fingers.

after cleaning himself up, he stares at the photo of you two on his bedside table. he wanted to see you so bad. maybe it was just the post-nut fog, but he just needed you wrapped up in his arms. throwing on some jeans and a tshirt, he lets his mom know he’s heading out with a quick shout. he’s at you window in less than a second, sliding it open. he always told you to lock your window in case a creep decides to crawl in, but, in reality, the only creep that ever used it was him.

“hey, peter,” you greet, not even bothering to turn around. whenever your window was suddenly opened, you automatically knew it was your idiot boyfriend who could never just use the front door. “it’s not peter, it’s a scary murderer and i’m here to kill you,” he says, making a stabbing motion behind your head. “oh no,” you say, your tone bored and plain as you continue to study for your exams.

peter rolls his eyes, wrapping his arms around your shoulders. “not happy to see me?” he teases, his lips connecting with the smooth skin of your neck. you push his face away, writing something down in a tiny notebook, papers scattered across your desk. “i’m studying,” you respond, eyes locked on your notes. his mouth is back on your neck immediately, despite you having just pushed him away.

“come on, babe, let’s hang out, you can study later, yeah?” he hums, nibbling right below your jaw. he absolutely would not be giving up, and you knew it. turning around in your chair, you look up at the silver-haired boy, giving an agitated look. he only gives back an innocent smile, pulling you up by your hand. “why are you so adamant on hanging out specifically right now,” you groan, allowing him to lead you to your bed. “no reason.”

pushing you down onto your unmade bed, he jumps, landing beside you. “hey, hot stuff,” he grins, posing with his face resting in the palm of his hand. “hey, dipshit,” you say in an overly-lovey tone, sarcasm evident in your dramatic smile. “you love me,” he laughs, pulling you into his arms, ruffling your hair. “sometimes,” you joke back, feeling less aggravated at your distraction of a boyfriend. he smiles, his face finding a place in the crook of your neck.

“mm, missed you,” he hums, taking a deep breath. you grin, playing with his hair. “i missed you, too.” he kisses your shoulder multiple times, moving up your neck and jaw. “i love you,” he continues, his lips lingering on your cheek. “i love you, too,” you snort, furrowing your eyebrows at his overly-affectionate behavior. eventually he settles, his leg bouncing a bit as he lays next to you, arms loose around your waist. “don’t fall asleep,” you tell him, trying to get a look at his face. “i’m not asleep,” he grunts, though it was clear he was about to be.

“yeah, okay.”

“i’m not.”

“shut up.”

short and sweet, i love him sm

(send in requests, i beg)

#x reader #peter maximoff #peter maximoff x reader #peter maximoff smut #quicksilver x reader #peter maximoff x y/n #xmen x reader #xmen #x-men #x men x reader #evan peters x reader #evan peters fanfiction #evan peters #tate langdon x y/n #tate langdon x reader #kit walker x reader #kai anderson x reader #james march x reader

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babygorewhore · 9 months

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Sit down. Evan Peters smut.

Your older boyfriend has been growing out his facial hair for a while. And he asks something of you. Something you’ve resisted before. What happens next? Requested by anonymous! I’m finally posting this! Next I’m gonna take the next few days to work on my requests!

WARNINGS! Oral! Fem receiving. Face riding.

Evan hadn’t shaved in almost a month, his beard growing more and more as the days went on. You were always attracted to him. But now? He looked so manly. Shedding his appearance as a boy. Which he was far from, but the beard…mmm. It looked so good on him.

You both sat on the bed, he was reading through a magazine as the tv was long forgotten. You were on your phone scrolling through tik tok, still bugging him to get one.

“Sorry, babe. I’m afraid that’s where our age difference comes in.” He grinned at you and you rolled your eyes.

“Okay, old man.” You reached up and cupped his cheek, gently brushing against his scruff.

“Do you like it? The beard, I mean?” Evan questioned. You paused, sensing his insecurity.

“Of course, I like it, baby. It looks good.” You cooed at him. He leaned down and kissed you, softly at first before he found your lips and grazed his teeth against your lower lip.

“Oh yeah?” He asked you.

Evan gently leaned on you, his weight pressing against your body as he continued kissing you. You felt his beard against your chin, but the scratch comforted you.

“I fucking love kissing you.” He breathed. His hand raising to gently squeeze your breast. You sucked in a breath.

Evan sucked on your lower lip as he kneaded your chest. Your core pooled at his attention as he brushed his tongue against your teeth.

You met his kiss, his tongue diving in your mouth and tasted you throughly. “Can you do something for me?” He asked against your mouth.

“Anything.” You answered, your hand against the back of his head.

“Can you…please sit on my face?” He asked. You froze, mid kiss.

He had asked you before and you refused. You couldn’t possibly. You felt way too heavy for him. You would probably crush his neck.

“Evan…” you started and he pressed a finger against your lips.

“Baby, you’re not going to crush me. I promise. You’re not too heavy. I know you’re insecure. But trust me. I can handle it. Please, I’m dying to taste you. I’ve been wanting this all day.” He trailed his lips down your neck, finding your pulse point.

His hands found your hips as his fingers tightened along them, as he guided you to sit up. You hesitated as he laid down, his eyes darkened impossibly. Evan helped you straddle his chest, pulling your oversized t shirt above your belly. “It’s okay, baby girl. Please? Please come here. I want to taste how sweet you are.”

You swallowed, still unsure. Evan gripped your thighs.

You were thicker than him, something you were always afraid that he wouldn’t find attractive. You hated that, you felt so uncomfortable whenever he held you on his lap, or picked you up. But he never let you speak badly about yourself, always reassuring you that he thought you were beautiful. Sexy, even.

“Sweetheart.” Evan reached forward, cupping your chin, making you look at him. “You don’t need to worry about it. You’re not hurting me. You’re not too heavy. It feels so good, do you want me to beg?”

Your eyes widened. “What?” Evan smirked at you before he toyed with the band of your underwear.

“Please, baby. Please, fuck my face. It’ll make you feel so good, I promise. I need it.” He whispered to you, slowly lifting you higher on his chest. Your hands fell to his shoulders, as you hovered above him, your underwear pulled to your separated knees.

Evan leaned up, you felt his beard brush against your pussy. You almost pulled away. But Evan’s hands went to your ass. “Fucking sit.” He breathed, before bringing you down on his mouth.

You immediately felt his tongue driving up, circling your clit as your thighs straddled his face. Your hips buckled, but your cheeks warmed as he slurped and sucked your sensitive bud. He moaned deep within his throat as he head moved up and down. His tongue dipped inside you, tasting you deep as his beard lightly scratched your inner thighs.

“Evan-“ you squeaked as your hands splayed on his chest, as he desperately thrusted his tongue against your clit.

“Fuck, you taste so good.” He groaned, his hands finding your hips as he rolled them. You tossed insecurities aside and started humping his face.

Your slick coated his chin as you moved against his face, your pleasure growing inside your stomach. Evan quickened his pace as you reached forward to grip the headboard. Your head pressed against it as your pelvis buckled as he flicked his tongue against your folds.

“I’m gonna-“ you stuttered.

“Please do.” Evan begged. You moved your hips up and down, Evan whimpered at the pressure and you shuddered as your release came.

You chased your orgasm as your movements became sloppy and Evan held your lower back so tight you thought he would break you. You moved to get off but he still held you in place.

“I’m not done.” He whined, continuing lapping at your pussy as he licked your leftover climax.

“I can’t-Evan please. I need a break.” You said to him and he finally stopped.

You climbed off, back on the bed beside him and you glanced at his crotch. But you saw the wet patch staining his sweatpants. “Did you-“

“Yeah.” He said, a slightly blush creeping his cheeks. “It was so hot, I couldn’t contain myself.”

You nodded and he snuggled closer to your side, trailing his fingers against your arms.” You did really good, baby. I really liked it.” He confessed.

“You promise?” You looked at him through your lashes.

“Yes,” he reached forward and kissed you. Savoring your lips with the aftermath of your taste.

Taglist. @ifeeltoofuckingmuch @icannot3 @randodummy @howtobesasha @evanptrss

#evan peters #evan peters imagine #american horror story #evan peters fanfiction #evan peters x reader #ahs #tate langdon #ahs fanfic #kit walker #ahs murder house #evan peters x female reader #evan peters fanfic #evan peters characters #evan peters smut #evan peters x you #evan peters x y/n

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kai-anderson-whore · 5 months

Text

The summoning (jmp x tate Langdon x reader smut)

Summary: you had always been fascinated with serial killers and true crime, one day you decided to try and summon your two favourite killers

Warnings: smut, three way, oral (tate receiving), p in v sex, doggy style 😏, summoning a ghost, ouija board,

Word count: 1,3k (another short one it was supposed to be longer)

A/n: this is a request by @villains-are-hot, thank you for the request and once again I apologise that it was very rushed at the end and I took ages to post this 😊

•¤❅¤•.•°˚˚°•..•°˚˚°•.•¤❅¤•.•¤❅¤•.•°˚˚°•.

For as long as you could remember you had a unhealthy obsession with true crime/ serial killers. Some may say it's far from normal, it was frightening. You knew stories of cases watched all the documentaries and more.

Some people say it's the type of obsession you hear killers having before they kill. You didn't care it was a interest that you were so passionate about. You preferred learning about serial killers, how their mind works, what drove them to do it. The ones you liked learning about the most was Tate Langdon who got shot dead in his bedroom after shooting up his school one day in 1994. And the other was James Patrick march a well known serial killer from the 1920s to the early 1930s. Legend has it they both still reside in their place of death.

You didn't know if that was true or not, you visited the hotel that James Patrick march resides in but nothing, you couldn't exactly go to the murder house since people live there. It intrigued you deeply, the thought it could be true or not.

You didn't know what you were doing when the idea popped into your head, you thought it won't work but it was worth a go. Now researching things to do, how to summon ghosts, some where a bit far fetched others seemed fake but you were willing nonetheless. Finding a method writing down everything that had to be done.

You sat in front of the oujia board your fingers delicately on the triangle piece. You took deep breaths trying to stay calm circling the board three times before saying "James Patrick march and Tate Langdon I invite you to this space" waiting a few seconds you felt eerily quiet and cold.

"Is there anyone here?" You asked the board, you felt something pushing the triangle to yes, you gasped in shock now feeling nervous but your fingers still remain on the piece. "How many sprits are here?" You then asked feeling uneasy slightly regretting your decision. The piece moved to the number 2 you didn't know if it was you or if it was actually two spirits here but you slowly asked your next question "w-who are you?".

The board moved to around spelling out two initials JMP and TL you gasped removing your hands from the board standing up. Completely forgetting to say goodbye. You immediately grabbed the board putting it away "what the fuck, it's probably me doing it it's got to be" you whispered to yourself.

"Not quite dear" a voice chimed making you yelp in fright. "What the fuck!?" You turned around seeing two guys there awfully familiar to you, they looked identical like discrete descent, "w-who are you?" You asked in fear.

"I'm James Patrick march and this is-" "Tate Langdon" they said, you furrowed your eyebrows in confusion "you're both dead no this can't be true." You couldn't believe what you were seeing they looked exactly like the killers you knew so much about. "How are you here?" You asked a thousand questions running around your head.

"Well you summoned us" Tate chuckled pointing to the ouija board. That's when you realised "shit I forgot to say goodbye" mentally cursing yourself, "it's quite alright dear, but I must ask how did you manage to get us free?" James asked.

"Dude she used the ouaji board to get us out" Tate said like James was dumb. "That's fascinating" James eyes light up "I don't know how we could ever thank you" James added. Tate's eyes on you like you’re his prey, swallowing a lump in your throat as his steps grew closer to you from behind. "I've got an idea" Tate's breath on your neck sending shivers down your spine. "Y-you don't need to thank me" your voice was above whisper unsure what they mean.

"Well boy enlighten us with your idea" James's velvety voice made you shiver more. You couldn't deny they were both very attractive despite their tendency to killing. "Well she's pretty isn't she? Don't you agree?" Tate smirked his hands running down the soft skin of your arms. "I do agree with you she is quite remarkable" James agreed beckoning his steps closer to you.

You didn't know if your body was filled with fear or anticipation maybe both. Closing your eyes feeling their breaths breeze across your features. James colds fingertips grazing gracefully along your bare arms bringing goosebumps to their wake. "I think we shall reward her for setting us free from our eternal resistances" James smirked his pencil moustache raising up.

"I was thinking the same" Tate chuckled with a devilish smirk, you didn't know what to feel scared? Or turned on? Maybe both. Feeling their cold hands on you but you didn't protest instead you let out a small sigh tugging on your shirt removing it from your body your head felt like it was spinning feeling their lips on your neck. You felt yourself being guided to your bed. Seeing Tate now above you with a mischievous smirk on his face.

You didn't know where James was until Tate pull away from you, seeing James now in his briefs flipping you over on your hands and knee. You whimpered in anticipation for what's to come feeling James's cold fingers hooking into your underwear peeling the fabric of your underwear off you and into the floor. Tate in front of you his impressive length in-front of you, holding yourself on one hand stroking him, earning a low groan erupted from his mouth. You felt cold fingertips teasing your folds collecting your arousal bringing it to your clit circling it in slow torturous motions.

A small gasp left your lips, your body automatically responding to James's touch "that's it dear" he says huskily, Tate still knelt infront of you his eager length desperate for attention. You took Tate's cock in your hand stroking him kitten licking the tip making him buck his hips into your touch more. You took Tate in your mouth swirling your tongue along the tip, gasping as you felt James enter your heat.

James thrusted into you slowly you moaned against Tate's length. A low groan rumbled from his throat his hips bucked further in your throat. James thrusts grew more faster and harder, tears forming in your eyes. "Fuck" Tate hissed his hips essentially fucking your throat.

"You feel wonderful darling" James hissed his grip on your hips tight, nails digging into your skin only adding to your pleasure. "Fuck" you moaned feeling Tate twitch in your mouth signalling you that he was close. You kept your movements along Tate's cock till he releases into the back of your throat, swallowing every drop. James kept his movements thrusting harshly into you you felt close to the edge "I'm so close" you moaned. Tate was watching you and James with a smirk, his skin flustered. James didn’t stop his movements hitting that spot guaranteed to make you see stars.

With a few more harsh deep thrusts, your body trembles, back arching releasing over James’s length trigging his own release deep inside you. His thrusts became sloppy till they came to a halt. Trying to catch your breath “that was something else” you chuckled. James and tate shared a wicked smile between them, “oh we’re don’t done, we’re only getting started” Tate’s voice make a shiver run down your spine waiting on what’s to come.

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evanpeterswhoresblog · 10 months

Text

A Different Kind of High

Tate Langdon x f!reader

warnings: use of marijuana, smut, p in v, unprotected, slight fingering, lose of virginity, slight innocence kink? lmk if there’s any others!!!

summary: you died a virgin, but that doesn’t mean you need to be one as a ghost…

word count: 1.9k

~~~

“I stole some weed from the newbies, you want some?” Tate asks as he hops up on what used to be your bed.

You’ve been dead for only a few months, living in the imfamous Murder House for a year prior. It was strange being dead, seeing people pass by on the street everyday knowing that’ll never be you again. You suppose this was what you deserved, after all you committed suicide. But never during your life did you think this was what being dead would be like. Trapped in a house with a dozen other ghosts for eternity.

Tate has been your friend since before you died, of course you didn’t know he was a ghost until you joined him on the other side. He’s charming, very down to Earth. You really don’t know much about him, even now. You’ve heard whispers about him being crazy, and you believe it. Sometimes through the night you hear his screams, his murderous laughter. It doesn’t bother you though. You’re already dead, what’s the worst he could do?

“I’ve never smoked before,” you reply.

He chuckles. “Are you serious?”

You turn red. “You saw my parents, they never let me do anything. When I used to go out they’d make me be back by nine. Even on weekends. I always figured they’d know so I didn’t bother.”

“At least tell me you’ve drank.” You shake your head, a small laugh escaping at the face Tate makes. “Have you done anything?”

“I kissed a boy when I was twelve,” you answer honestly.

“Was that your only kiss?”

“Yeah…” You mumble.

“Wow, I can’t believe you’re this innocent, I always thought girls with strict parents did the dirtiest things,” he replies. He grabs the baggie of weed out of his pocket and holds it up. “You’re going to try this, and you’re going to love it.”

You don’t object, and instead watch as Tate begins to role a joint. He does it effortlessly, he’s done it many times before. You know from previous conversations that he’s done drugs much stronger than weed, the main one being cocaine. You had asked him how it felt to do it, to be alive and on a drug so strong. He told you it felt like he needed to run a mile while he was high. He also made you promise to do it with him one day.

When he finishes rolling the joint he offers it to you. “You want the first hit?”

“Fuck it, yeah,” you say.

He gives you a smile that makes butterflies swirl in your stomach. Though the two of you are only friends, you can’t deny how attractive Tate is. Even though everythings only been platonic, sometimes with certain looks and phrases, he makes you feel some special type of way.

You take the joint inbetween your lips, your eyes locked on Tate. He grabs a lighter and lifts it to the other end of the joint.

“I’d usually say take a small hit, but usually it takes a little more to get us high so take as much as you think is necessary,” he explains before lighting the end.

You inhale deeply, the smoke it hot and you know if you were alive it would burn your lungs completely. Thankfully though, it only stings a little. After a few seconds Tate takes it from your lips and you exhale slowly, watching as he repeats your actions. You lean back against the pillows, you feel a little something.

“How long does it usually take to get high?” You ask.

“I dunno a few minutes I guess, why? Do you feel it?”

Your head feels light and the room looks brighter. “I think so, I feel… lighter.”

“Oh yeah, you’re high,” he replies with a laugh.

He lays beside you on the bed, both of you staring at the ceiling in silence. You hear him take a few more puffs of the joint, wondering how he does’t feel anything yet. Your whole body feels electrified, every muscle alive and thriving. You almost feel like how you did before you died, almost. It makes you smile.

“Why did I never try this before…” you mumble, a small laugh leaving your lips. “Fuck I feel good.”

“I know right, it’s pretty great.”

You turn your head and stare at him. “Can I tell you a secret?”

He meets your gaze. “Of course.”

You don’t know where the sudden burst of honesty comes from. Usually, you’re embarrassed to talk about anything you did or more specifically didn’t do in your life. However, as you stare into Tate’s dark eyes you feel the urge to tell him every little detail about you.

“I died a virgin,” you whisper. “Like I never even got fingered or anything.”

You stare at each other for another few seconds before you both burst out into laughter. You don’t know why it’s so funny, but it is. You feel amazing, like you’re on top of the world. But you also feel like every word that comes out of your mouth is hilarious.

“I shouldn’t have said that I’m sorry,” you say as the laughter dies down. “I’m so stupid.”

“Hey, you aren’t stupid. I know a few other ghosts died virgins, like the nurses,” he replies, that stupid smirk on his face.

“God don’t say that!” You exclaim. “At least they chose to die virgins, I tried to hard to be fucked before I died but every time I started to become interested in someone my stupid parents ruined it.”

Tate props his head up on his hand so he’s now looking down at you. “Well on the brightside your parents are gone now so you can fuck anyone you want.”

“Yeah but the options aren’t exactly ideal. There’s really only Travis, but he’d definitely not be the best option for a first time,” you laugh.

“I’m here too you know.”

“What do you mean?” You ask.

“You know what I mean,” Tate answers, his voice quieter than before.

Your laughter stops at his words, and you meet his eyes once again. This time, you can sense something lingering behind his eyes, something you haven’t ever noticed before. You smile, trying to ease the tension that’s filled the room. He’s probably just messing with you. However, he doesn’t smile back at you, his expression stays the same.

You’re in disbelief. Is this real? Is your best friend really telling you he’d take your virginity? This can’t be real, you think. Maybe it’s just because of the weed, maybe it’s doing something to your head. You can’t deny the butterflies that form in your stomach at the thought of it though. Tate would be a good first. He’s experienced, but not with too many people. You find yourself suddenly imaging it, how it would feel, sharing that experience with someone you truly enjoy being around. It wouldn’t be so bad, you decide.

“All right,” You say. You kick your shoes off without breaking eye contact. “Is it going to hurt?”

He smirks and follows your actions. “It usually does the first time.”

You smile and start undoing the buttons on your jeans. You know if you hadn’t taken that puff of the joint you’d be selfconcious getting undressed in front of Tate. He watches you carefully as you remove your pants, your shirt, even your bra. It’s silent, but not an awkward silence, more of a comforting silence. You only look away from him as you slowly pull your panties off and throw them into the newly formed pile of your clothes.

It’s your turn to watch now. Your eyes trail up and down Tate’s body as he slowly undresses. He’s so beautiful, his body is perfect. You can’t stop yourself from reaching over and running your fingertips over the toned muscles of his abdomen. Your eyes meet once again and you almost shiver at how full his eyes have become with lust.

Quickly, he leans his head down and connects your lips to his. The kiss is slow at first, like you’re treading the water. But as you start to understand how it works, you move your lips against his, following his motions. The soft gentle kiss becomes full of passion. You twirl your fingers in his soft blond curls, loving the way his breathing gets heavier as you do so.

He moves on top of you, hit body fitting between your legs swiftly. Your body feels like it’s on fire, your skin feels like it needs to be touched. Tate rests one of his hands beside your head and the other begins to slide down your chest, your stomach, till it reaches the place it was searching for. You feel him smile into the kiss.

“So excited already…” he mumbles.

His fingers run between your folds, collecting the wetness that’s already begun to drip out of you. He circles them on your clit for a few minutes, making you moan from the new but amazing feeling. After that he slides his pointer finger down to your entrance.

“Is this okay?” He asks.

“Yes, thank you.”

“Thank you?” He chuckles. He begins to slowly push his finger inside you and you grab his free arm.

“Thank you for doing this,” you clarify.

“I like how innocent you are, but I can’t lie I’ve always dreamt of being the one to rip that innocence away,” he whispers.

Before you can reply he lowers his head to your neck and begins to leave sloppy kisses along your skin. You can’t believe this is really happening. Once his finger is fully inside you, he starts to thrust it in and out at a slow pace. You moan, your back arching off the matress. He continues this for a few minutes before adding a second, preparing you perfectly for what’s going to come next.

He kisses down your chest until he’s at your breasts. He sucks and licks your nipples, it feels amazing. You can’t take it any longer, you need him. You grab his chin and connect your lips. He kisses you harder than before, biting and sucking your tongue into his mouth. You love it. You can’t get enough of it.

“I’m ready Tate,” you say breathlessly as your lips part. “I want to do it.”

“All right.” He pulls his fingers out of you and you watch him position his hard dick on your entrance. He looks down at you, brushing a piece of hair away from your face. “If it hurts to bad just tell me and I’ll stop okay?”

You nod, and before you can say anything else he starts to move. It hurts, but not too bad. Tate kisses you as he does this, it makes the pain more bearable. You wrap one of your hands around his back, your nails slowly dragging across the skin of Tate’s back. He only kisses you harder. His thrusts are slow, but your thighs still clench around his hips.

After a few minutes he asks if he can go faster, you tell him yes. The pain slowly morphed into a small pleasure that you enjoy. You continue to claw at his back, even more as his pace inscreases. You’re out of breath, the only sounds in the room being your moans along with Tate’s heavy breathing. It’s pure bliss.

The end comes faster than you want, but you don’t mind. You love the way Tate whispers your name as he cums, and how strongly his dick pulses inside you. You hold him close after it’s over, his skin against yours makes you feel alive again.

“Was it okay?” he asks as he lays on you.

“It was perfect,” you answer.

And so it was.

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evanpetersmybf · 1 month

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All he asked for was you

Tate Langdon x female!reader

Summary: Tate loves you too much. He would do anything for you, to keep you by his side, to make you love him forever. He would cross any line to make you his, it doesn't matter how evil it is... But was it really worth it?

Genre: ANGST!! and some smut

Word count: 5,104

Warnings: Obsessive, stalkish and violent behavior, implicit toxic relationship; mentions of weapons, murder, mental health issues, family issues, school shooting; use of Y/N, swearing, cunnilingus, fingering, unprotected p in v. (i hope i'm not missing any...) NOT PROOFREAD !!

A/N: English isn't my first language!! Sorry if I have some mistakes and if Tate's a bit ooc (i tried to keep him in character as much as i could). I wasn't sure (and still not) if this is good but I spent days writing it, so I had to post it.

A small playlist with songs that inspired me for this: monster by meg and dia, pacify her by melanie martinez, all i want is you by rebzyyx, skyfall by adele, psycho by doko, paparazzi by lady gaga, dark red by steve lacy.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ཐི ♡ ཋྀ

Tate never believed in love, nor was he a romantic one.

In fact, he despised it. How could he even believe in that feeling when he never felt loved by his own mother? At least that’s what he pretended.

The blond always had the facade of a tough guy, although he couldn’t fool anyone. Constance knew well he was a sensitive boy. Probably the most crybaby ever to exist… And the most unstable one.

Now he was here. His chest going up and down, breathing shallow and fast. His eyes were darting around the room, looking for something or perhaps someone. Some silly tears were rolling down his cheeks while he anxiously fidgeted with a ring on his finger. The clock on the wall continued its tick-tack. The time kept running. His heart kept beating. It was getting late.

He refused to look at the wooden floor. He didn’t want to accept reality. If Tate did that, he would feel like the biggest monster on Earth.

Nevertheless, he couldn’t stay like this.

He had to do something real fast.

Today, 18:40

You were supposed to arrive at 19:00.

But he remained there, next to the corpse of his rival. A bloody ax beside the dead man’s bleeding head.

Whom he thought was his worst enemy, was someone really dear to you.

Well, Tate fervently believed this was something justified. He couldn’t stand that fucking asshole anymore! That scumbag needed to be put back in his place. And Tate only did that. Furthermore, he actually helped him. He took him away from this shitty world. It was a favor.

He had already killed his mother’s boyfriend, so why was he feeling guilty?

Maybe because his victim was special to you. Because his death would hurt you. And Langdon swore to God he would never let anybody or anything hurt you, including himself.

He loved you.

He wanted to be the one to hold your hand forever.

Tate snapped back to the present and frowned. He picked up the weapon, putting it in his backpack. He didn’t even mind cleaning it. Then, he proceeded to knelt right next to the lifeless dude and cleaned the blood surrounding his body; afterwards, he dragged him to the basement and…

19:00

A knock on the door.

You arrived.

“DAMN IT!”

He left his dead foe lying limp on the cold basement ground and quickly ran upstairs, straight to his room. He also left the backpack there.

Tate spent the last twenty minutes cleaning the mess he made in the living room after he atrociously smashed your friend’s head, forgetting that had poor time to get ready.

He desperately looked for clean clothes, scrambling the entire closet in search of fresh garments while he cussed at himself, at his mother, at that freaking boy, at the entire world but you.

Finally he found some jeans and a striped shirt. He looked at himself in the mirror after changing and cleaned the tiny drops of blood that stayed on his face and hands. He never realized he left the bloody clothing on the bed.

Another knock.

19:07

Tate opened the door, immediately throwing himself at you and giving you one of the warmest hugs. His demeanor with you was completely different; you were the only creature capable of changing his fucked up mind into something more beautiful, more peaceful. The issue was that it only happened when he was with you, otherwise he would be aggressive and rude as usual.

You got the best of him.

“Missed you so fuckin’ much, babe…” Voice muffled since his face was buried in the crook of your neck. Tate always did the same thing; clinging onto you like a small koala would.

“Heh, me too, hun!” You spoke with the same soothing voice he adored. Tate giggled and placed a tender kiss on your jawline, then another, and another, and another.

Soon enough, he was peppering kisses all over your neck, making you moan softly. Oh those sounds. He could hear you melting under his touch, his embrace, for the rest of eternity.

He loved making you squirm, making you laugh, making you feel loved.

He was way too sweet.

Only if you knew.

Four weeks before today…

Tate has always had the bad habit of stalking you. Yeah… He wasn’t proud of it. But can you blame him? He’s constantly afraid of you leaving him. He wanted to make sure you never did so… Otherwise he would die. Literally.

Don’t ask how he would die. You already know the answer.

You two were supposed to have a date, albeit you had to cancel your meeting.

And that, of course, made him overthink. It didn’t matter how many times you told him you were going to study; he felt betrayed, as if you were rejecting him. And Tate hated and feared rejection to the bone.

“Pretty please? Please, Y/N! I don’t wanna go home early, mom’s gonna be there and-and–”

“Tate, I can’t skip this. I have like, a test every day next week and I must study. I don’t wanna fail. Please, sweetie. I promise I’ll make it up to ya’, mhm?”

He rolled his eyes and whined, almost throwing a tantrum. He didn’t try to manipulate you on purpose. It came out naturally. “But I need you, Y/N! Why do you always do the same, huh? Am I not that important? Don’t you love me any longer?”

His childish crying continued for a couple of minutes, until it stopped and the blond agreed a deal with you.

You thought he was calm now, but no. How naive.

You went to the library to study as you said… Without noticing he followed you.

Quietly, he got into that maze of books after you and hid behind some shelves.

Tate noticed you sat on an empty table. Thank God. Oh?

Who. Is. He.

A man Tate didn’t know sat next to you. Really close. Too close for Tate’s liking. He tried to think he was a stranger, that he wasn’t going to talk to you… He was wrong.

He clenched his hands into a ball when he saw that idiot talking to you, and the worst part was that you followed suit. It seemed you two were friends or something.

How DARE YOU talk to another man? No, how dare you talk to another HUMAN BEING!?

Tate was insecure 24/7.

If you weren’t there, Tate was falling apart. It was simple.

No Y/N, no happy Tate. Was it too hard to understand?

Three weeks before today…

It was Friday. Tate was impatiently waiting for you outside the campus, hanging a small bouquet of flowers he picked up.

Once he spotted you coming out from the building, he waved his hand and embraced you tightly once you were in front of him. He gave you the adorable present.

“Tate!”

“How did you do? Did you pass your tests? Don’t tell me, I’m sure you did.” Said, grinning from ear to ear. He was away from you for an entire week. How did he survive? He didn’t know, but he was glad to have you with him again. “Tell me about your life in the last days, baby. Please? I feel like I haven’t seen you in years!”

There he was, the one and only drama queen Tate Langdon.

You talked about the tests, about how the teachers were being a pain in the ass (which clearly triggered in him the intense desire of hurting them because they stressed you), and… About a guy. The same guy from the library, with whom you spent the entire last week studying. He couldn’t stand it. He saw him as a threat to your relationship, especially since he was an old friend that you met many years ago.

As the days went by, you gave him more reasons to hate that jerk. Why? Well of course because you spent hours at the library doing homework or studying with him. Or even hanging out with him and other people.

In reality, you went out with him to a museum just once, and then skating with other colleagues. Nothing compared to the time you spent with Tate; in a week, you would hang out with him almost daily, and if you were way too busy, he would go to your place and spend the night there. He was so attached to you to the point he had to see you at least once a day. And that’s why he was so jealous of your friend. Tate couldn’t stand the idea of you sharing your life with someone else who wasn’t him or your family… And he also got jealous of them, but he was handling it.

Two weeks before today.

After Tate’s pleas, you decided to introduce your friend to him.

Probably a big mistake.

The date was really awkward; your friend tried being nice, and Tate acted surprisingly kind. Of course it was odd; usually, he despised all of your friends and treated them badly, yet this time was different. You were stunned, however, you tried to ignore it and instead got happy as he finally accepted a random person as your buddy.

Still and all, he hated that moron. It didn’t matter how much he tried liking your pal, he was jealous of him. He was getting on his nerves. He denied the fact that you had more love for other people that wasn’t him. Tate desired being your only one. Your number one. Your entire world. Because that’s what you were for him. And he was willing to do whatever to keep you with him.

Tate exchanged numbers with him and meticulously plotted a plan to ascertain he would never talk to you ever again. At first, it came out as a simple “I’m gonna scare the shit outta him”, nonetheless, it turned into a darker idea, very likely involving physical violence.

One week before today…

The last few days, Tate won Peter’s trust. Ah yes. That’s your friend's name. You were glad that he finally opened his warm heart and began to meet more people besides you.

You thought he needed a friend, an empathetic person who could support the blond when you weren’t available, that way he would feel less lonely and depressed.

They went to the cinema, to the arcade, even to a music store. Everything was going according to what he planned.

Eventually, he invited Peter to his place to play chess and other board games on a Sunday afternoon, before you arrived and had a date with Tate due to your anniversary.

Today, 16:00

Peter and Tate were eating pizza and having a great noon, talking about their lives and random stuff, like school and music. They both enjoyed Nirvana, and since Peter played the guitar, he agreed on teaching your boy how to.

If it weren’t for Tate’s twisted mind, they would’ve been best friends.

The guitarist wasn’t a bad guy. He was a great buddy that really appreciated you and the crybaby, but Langdon had something else in mind.

18:00

The men watched a movie. Tate didn’t even know its name; in fact, he didn’t even pay attention to it. Instead, he was focused on his next actions, plotting them carefully.

“Crap, mom’s gonna arrive soon…” Tate mumbled with annoyance, biting his nails and tapping his foot on the floor. He was lying. You were going to arrive, not Constance.

“Damn, bro. Well, I don’t have a problem. I wanna meet her.”

“Huh? No no no, you shouldn’t. That bitch is crazy.”

Peter scoffed, disagreeing with Tate’s rude manner to call his own momma.

“Hey, you shouldn’t talk like that. I bet she loves you!”

That pissed him off. “You don’t know anything, Peter. Your family is different. Your life’s different. You won’t understand!” He yelled, standing up from the couch and now pacing around the room, trying to keep it calm.

“Dude, calm down!

“NO! I fucking won’t!”

The screaming continued for a while. Tate revealed his unstable and crystal self. Even something so insignificant could drive him to the edge, like what happened today. That definitely surprised the other one, who used to think that Tate was a sweet boy. “I dunno why Y/N is dating you.”

“What did you say?” Tate abruptly stopped pacing.

“Y/N. Y/N doesn’t deserve you.”

“WHY WOULD YOU EVEN SAY THAT!?” He pounced on Peter, gripping his neck with one rough hand, applying enough pressure on the sides to stop the blood circulation in his carotids and make him lose consciousness.

Before passing out, Peter, getting pale, managed to croak out: “Because she deserves better…”

Soon enough, he fainted, giving Tate minutes to think about what else to do.

Your boyfriend wasn’t planning on murdering Peter today. No, he didn’t have time. He also was supposed to meet you.. But this was the perfect excuse! And not only that; he indirectly admitted he was in love with you! Or that’s what Tate interpreted with his delusional point of view.

Peter didn’t feel anything romantic for you, he was just worried Tate might be too unhinged to be your partner.

Thus, he went to his room and grabbed his backpack. Then, went to the garden shed and picked up the ax that belonged to his father, and a bottle of lye.

He had to get the job done quickly, nevertheless, he lost track of time.

18:30

Tate came back to the living room, just to notice that Peter wasn’t there anymore.

“FUCK IT!” Langdon got nervous. What if he escaped? What if he told you that Tate was crazy? He couldn’t allow this, not at all.

Thankfully, or maybe not, Tate found Peter crawling towards the front door, the poor dude still feeling dizzy after being choked.

Tate didn’t have any mercy.

“Where do you think you’re going, lil’ piece of shit!?”

18:38

Tate finally did it. He brutally murdered Peter, smashing his head several times with the ax.

He got rid of that little issue. He took him to somewhere clean.

Once he assured the other man wasn’t breathing, he dropped the weapon on the floor, making a loud metallic thud.

19:10

Tate was pinning you down on the couch, the same couch where your dead friend was sitting just an hour ago.

His hands were traveling all along your body, tracing sweet patterns on your skin.

Eventually, his fingers were clumsily pulling down your panties, not minding to take off your skirt. “Did you bring this for easy access, baby?” Tate chuckled and buried his face between your legs, holding your thighs in place; his lips plastered messy kisses over the warm flesh, biting it and leaving tiny marks after sucking.

Your reaction was alluring to him; he enjoyed listening to your pleas, to your whimpers. If it was for him, he would spend the entire day making you cum over and over again.

He finally got rid of your underwear, tossing it aside. Without further ado, the boy spread your folds with his large digits, and continued to lick your throbbing wet cunt.

“So fucking pretty… So wet for me, huh?”

His tongue lapped your small clit two or three times, then, traced a zigzag and circles on the sensitive nub. While he devoured you, he inserted his middle and ring finger, pumping them in and out of your cute hole, curling them and hitting the right spot to make you feel butterflies.

Tate could feel his arousal growing; his erection being restrained by the tight fabric of his jeans. He was desperate, yeah. But he always put you in the first place, and that included pleasuring you before him.

After a while, he replaced his fingers with his tongue, fucking your pussy with the agile muscle and now rubbing your clit with his thumb, applying pressure that sent electric waves through your body. He stopped using his tongue on you and instead looked at that stunning face of yours. He was delighted with your flushed cheeks, with every single gesture you did, with the way your eyes rolled to the back of your head. He wanted to take a picture of you to remember this moment forever.

His thumb increased the pace, while his free hand lifted up your blouse and tried to undo your bra. He couldn’t. You giggled when he groaned in frustration; he was too horny to think straight and that’s why you helped him to take off the garment.

Tate sighed and after that awkward and funny moment, he kept rubbing your bud, using your own juices and his saliva as a lubricant, intensifying the sensation. His left pinched and pulled your nipple, making you gasp and twitch beneath him, whilst his mouth abused your other one, greedily sucking on it.

“Tate, ‘m gonna cum! I-”

Tate cut you off by kissing you harshly; his tongue invading your warm mouth, exploring it and then nibbling your bottom lip until it bleeded. He licked the tiny drops of blood, savoring the metallic taste of it.

Unable to hold on any longer, you reached your orgasm, coming undone while Tate kept caressing your pussy, decreasing the velocity while you finally calmed down.

He left you panting; your heart beating so fast just like his.

You tried to sit up on the couch, breathing deep for more air, but the blond prevented you from going away.

“Where do you think you’re doing? We’re not done yet, you’re gonna cum again!”

Tate carried you bridal style and went upstairs straight to his bedroom. He threw you on the bed.

Without stopping looking at you, he unbuckled his belt and pulled down his jeans along the boxers; his dick already erect and throbbing, the veins thick and the tip leaking precum.

Using the clear liquid as lube, he stroked his shaft for a while, jerking off to the sight of you. He groaned and whimpered, closing his eyes as his hand pumped himself.

One of your hands went to your breasts, massaging them softly as your right went down between your legs, slowly teasing your womanhood and coating your index finger with your arousal, using it to rub your aching bundle of nerves.

Tate’s dark room was now filled with both of your moans; Tate calling your name several times and you begging him to fuck you.

He couldn’t stand this anymore. He NEEDED to be inside you, to feel your warmth enveloping him. “On all fours. Now.” You immediately obeyed, feeling as eager as him.

“Look at me, mhm?” He positioned behind you and rubbed the tip against your wet folds, teasing you for a bit. Afterwards, he slowly entered his cock inside your slit, moving it slowly at first. His thumb went to your clitoris, toying with it just like minutes before. He picked up the pace and fucked you fast and hard; his cockhead brushing your cervix. Grabbing a fistful of your hair, Tate pulled your head towards him, still with the deep thrusting. “Fuck, Y/N! You’re so pretty… So fucking precious, so fucking mine!” Moaned against your ear, voice raspy and agitated.

Panting, you stopped looking at him and instead looked to the bed. Why? Who knows, but you did it. And you saw Tate’s dirty clothes. Dirty with blood. A lot of blood.

You froze. Maybe it was red paint?

“U-uh, Tate?” You muttered, feeling already bewildered by the sight. You tried not to jump into conclusions, although you knew Tate and he has always been… Secretive.. And aggressive, of course.

After your boyfriend heard your shaky whisper, he stopped moving, even if he wanted to keep going. “Hm?”

“What’s this?” Tate sighed and pulled out from you, not understanding what you meant.

“What’s what?”

Without saying anything else to him, you grabbed the shirt and touched the weird stain. It was still fresh. You took your fingers to your mouth to taste it; and the metallic tang was too obvious. “Tate, what the fuck is this!?”

You threw it at him. Freaked out, you stood up and picked up your clothes, putting them on again, all meanwhile Tate connected the dots and realized he was probably going to get caught.

“Wait, Y/N! It’s not what it looks like, I swear, damn it!” He yelled and grabbed your arm, not wanting you to leave like this. He had to save his reputation, he couldn’t let you think bad of him even if you had all the right. Because, why the fuck the fabric was soaked in blood?

“Then what is it, Tate? WHY DOES IT HAVE SO MUCH BLOOD!?”

“CALM DOWN, PLEASE!”

You attempted to get away from his grip, struggling with him until, somehow, you managed to do so. However, you tripped with his dirty shoes and fell, realizing they were also stained with the red liquid. “Tate, what…? Why? What is this?”

“Nothing, I swear!” He didn’t have any excuses. Saying it was paint would’ve been lame. You were too smart and he knew lying wasn’t a good choice.

Feeling overwhelmed with the matter, you went downstairs, walking as fast as you could. Passing through the living room, a very familiar bag caught your eye. It was definitely Peter’s. You decided to grab it and realized it had his phone inside. Something was off.

Tate was standing behind you; fists clenched and heart beating like crazy. He tried to approach you, still thinking about what to do or what to say.

“Tate… What is this doing here? Peter’s here?”

“Huh? Yeah… He— He came earlier and had to go soon, he left this accidentally, yup…” You could see him fidgeting with that ring on his finger, again.

“Bullshit!”

Tate scowled and grabbed your chin, making you look at his dark orbs. “Tell me, Y/N, do you trust me or not, huh? Look me in the eyes and say you don’t!”

The struggle continued for what seemed eternity. You trying to run away from the house and he trying to make you stay. “Please, Y/N, just listen to me!”

“You did something to him, right? I know him, Tate! He would NEVER leave his phone like this! Is this a joke?”

“Why do you care so much about that asshole!? What has he done for you!? Tell me!”

“Oh my, you’re jealous! I knew it! All that crap about being his friend was a lie, right? Tate, you’re being delusional! I can have friends, I can hang out with whoever I want, whether you like it or not!”

Tate pressed your cheeks between his thumb and the rest of his fingers, squeezing the flesh with his veiny, big hand, pressing it tightly enough to leave the mark of his long digits on it.

“You can’t! You’re mine. Only mine. Since the day you were born you were meant to be mine. Not his, not anybody, just me.”

“Tate… We should end this…” You thought this was the best for both. Being in a relationship with him was draining; always being careful to not hurt him, make him jealous or mad. He was such a sensitive boy that always took everything too personally. He felt everything a little too much.

Since the beginning you knew he was unstable and that he had many issues, but you tried to see beyond his sick mind, you tried to understand him despite being so different.

Tate felt so safe with you. You were the only person who understood him, or at least made attempts to.

He felt rejected by the entire society, even by his own mother, until he met you and he had a minimum spark of hope that the world didn’t suck that much.

That’s why he clung to you. That’s why you were his everything. He would lose his mind if you leave him.

He felt like dying when he heard you wanted to finish the relationship.

He couldn’t breathe.

Some tears were now falling to the floor, his eyes puffy and an ugly frown on his face. His mouth twisted as he sobbed loudly, tugging the hem of your shirt while he begged you to stay. He was crying like a newborn, like a baby who had to be apart from his mother for a second.

“No no no no, you can’t do this to me!” He whimpered, his speech cracking as he tried to hold you close whilst you were stepping back. You were slipping through his fingers, you were leaving him.

“Tate, if something happened to Peter, I will never forgive you! Can’t you see you’re hurting me?”

Tate swore he would never hurt you, nor let anyone. But here he was, finally snapping out of it and seeing the cruel truth.

“You’ve been hurting me the whole time, Tate! I tried to understand you, I really did, I tried to help you, to save you from yourself! But it’s impossible. I’m losing myself here with you, I don’t even know who I am anymore! You don’t want help, do you? ‘Cause it doesn’t matter what I do, you’re never satisfied! You suffocate me!”

All those words were like daggers penetrating his skin, touching his nerves and making him die of pain. You were tearing him apart, just the way he was destroying you.

He finally let go of you, feeling a tornado of emotions. Tate felt depressed, mad, resentful, like he was going crazy. Though, he knew he had to leave if that’s what you wanted. He couldn’t bring himself to break another promise.

Thereby, he confessed his crimes to you. He explained he killed his mom’s partner a few days ago, and that now he had killed your friend. Why? He was jealous, he was scared you’d left him. You did it before you discovered the cruel reality, anyways. That’s why he told you. Because he couldn’t lose anything else.

The situation was utterly disgusting. Tate was sick. He murdered an innocent man and then proceeded to fuck you, as it was the maximum test of love, as if his life meant nothing.

You knew he wasn’t what people often considered “normal”. But this was definitely more than just being a “weirdo”. Tate needed psychiatric help… And being arrested, of course.

“You make me wanna puke, Tate! You’re the evil!”

Without hesitating, you left Tate behind, running as fast as you could from that living hell.

You just wanted to cry, curl up into a ball and wake up from this nightmare. You wished it was merely a bad dream.

Tomorrow morning, you’d go to the police, but for now you needed to sleep.

Monday morning, 11:05

You couldn’t sleep all night. You spent hours thinking about everything, about how this looked like a cruel joke to you. Eventually, you fell asleep at 4AM, and didn’t wake up at what seemed almost midday.

An intense sound of police sirens woke you from your slumber. Startled by the loud noise, you rubbed your eyes and went to the window, trying to get a glimpse of what was happening outside.

Police cars and SWAT vans were going in a specific direction… Towards Tate’s street. It couldn’t be, right?

Did his mother find the corpse? Or perhaps something else?

You looked at the clock, realizing it was late and you had to go to class.

08:00

After the most painful night of his life, Tate decided today everything would be over.

He had to cleanse the world… To take people to somewhere else, to some place full of peace away from the piss and the vomit that runs down the streets.

He was doing this not only because of your breakup, but also because of many other reasons. Your split up was the straw that broke the camel and drove him to the edge.

10:40

After shooting the school, Tate left the place, looking unfazed about what he just did. He was unhinged.

He peacefully got into his place, went to his room and stayed there for some minutes.

The blond sat on the edge of the bed, leaving the gun right next to him and stared at nothing. His gaze was empty, but also there were some tears threatening to spill.

His mind was a whirlwind. Some part of him was satisfied, but the other was confused, wondering what was he thinking, what had he done?

What would you think of him now? Were you even there? Did he kill you too and he didn’t even notice?

In the end, he recognized he indeed was the evil you said. Damn it. You were right, again, as ever.

Tate wanted to hear your voice, to comfort him, to hear you saying everything was okay. That he’d be okay. He desired to hear “I love you” from you once more.

11:15

You went downstairs to find your family apparently mourning you.

They thought you were at school when the shooting happened. They believed you were gone, but here you were.

Eventually, they explained to you what happened.

The first thing that popped into your mind was Tate’s wellbeing, still unaware that he was the culprit. You were afraid something terrible could’ve happened to him, you were regretting your last words to him, but you also had to get him prisoner.

Your heart dropped when they explained to you he was the shooter.

No, it couldn’t be possible.

It was possible. After all, he had already killed two men.

Even if you despise what he did, some part of you still longed for him, still was in love with his once kind heart.

A terrifying feeling of dread filled your body, making you feel numb, as if none of this was real…

11:25

After running to Tate’s house and seeing it surrounded by the cops and the SWAT team, everything stopped. Constance’s distressed cries and pleas were heard from outside, followed suit by the sound of bullets. It was over now.

Tate was certainly a troubled individual who dedicated his entire life to searching for something, to feel something, to feel loved.

All he asked for was love, to be loved, to love. All he wanted was you.

But at the same time, your love led him to an never-ending obsession that ultimately broke both of you.

He became your biggest regret.

All he feared, all his nightmares came true. Everything he was so afraid of was him and only himself.

248 notes · View notes

taintandviolent · 1 year

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Ouija Board (Tate Langdon x Reader)

Summary: You have a sleepover at your new house, and your friend decides to bring out your Ouija board. But, you’re all teenage girls, so the questions are completely unhinged and un-serious. But, the ghost you’re talking to takes full advantage of the situation. It’s a perfect opportunity, he’s been watching for you weeks. You’re living in his room, afterall.

warnings: 2.9k words -- self insert! female receiving. shameless smut. post-death Tate, ghost sex, cunnilingus, handjob, rough sex, unprotected sex, mention of ghosts/death.

Ao3 link here! Full fic below the cut! 18+.

tagged: @zabelcolin @kaismanwich @elsamars @thewolveswithin @marylovesevanpeters @80strashbag @r-3tro @twinkiemaximoff @milkovich-misfit {dm/ask to be added!}

It was the third week in the new house.

It was the first time that you actually felt at home. Somehow, you’d managed to make two friends from school, which was equally as shocking to you as it was to your parents. In previous schools, you’d always been on the outskirts, bored stiff at the idea of socialising. When you’d announced to your dad at dinner that you’d actually braved the choppy shores of friendship, he’d nearly choked on his coffee.

“That’s wonderful! Why don’t you invite them over for dinner tonight?” Your mom asked, setting her mug down on the table. You rocked your foot back and forth, mulling over the idea. Previously, your days off from school had been spent unpacking and checking around corners, listening to the creaking and whining of an old house.

Your mother was delighted with its age, commenting on the Tiffany glass and wood — but you felt things that had rotted underneath the wood. Things that whispered when your back was turned, or lingered in the kitchen when you went for a glass of water in the middle of the night.

“Okay, sure.”

So that night, instead of flicking the light switch off in your bathroom and making a beeline for your bedroom, you sat on the floor with Jessica, Angie, a dish of pizza rolls and three glasses of grape soda.

You swallowed the mouthful, and nodded. “No, I’m serious. This house is weird. The first week I was here, in the kitchen… I saw a blonde lady with a hole in the back of her head.”

Jessica snapped the book she was leafing through, and turned. “I bet she was murdered. Don’t you have an Ouija board?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, pointing towards the bookcase. “Never used it, though.”

“You’re going to. This is much more fun than going to Town Hall and asking for records on previous owners. Sometimes, they don’t include death certificates — which is obviously what everyone is interested in. That’s the good stuff.” It took all of three minutes for Jessica to set it up. In unison, the three of you delicately placed two fingers on the planchette.

“Okay… so, what do we ask?”

You chewed on the inside of your lip, thinking.

“Is there anyone here with us?” You blurted out.

The planchette skidded to life, circling in the middle of the board. You’d seen it happen in movies, but the actual sensation was an unsettling one. YES. You all exchanged looks, searching for any guilty expressions — but it seemed that none of you had opted to play any tricks. The planchette had moved by itself.

“Did you die here?” Angie asked.

YES.

Jessica gasped. “Ooooh, what if it’s a cute ghost boy like in Casper? Can I keep you?”

Completely enrapt with the idea, she turned her attention to the board, and asked, “Is the spirit in this room male?”

YES.

“Well, that rules out Miss Hole in her Head.” You cleared your throat, focusing on the printed letters. “Have you been the one in my room every night?”

“The one in your room every night?!” Jessica hissed, shooting a pointed look at you. You shrugged apologetically. Angie, who was visibly uneasy with the entire idea, almost fell backwards when the spirit answered.

YES.

“Oh my god!?” Jessica hung her head between her arms, laughing. “It’s probably some old grandpa with a shrimp dick, let’s be real here.”

“Bet. I’ll find out. Do you have a big dick, Mr. Ghost?” You asked.

Again, the planchette zipped to YES. Whoever he was, he didn’t hesitate. Cute. The three of you howled, laughing at the ridiculousness of the question. Angie desperately tried to redirect the conversation by asking the ghost what it wanted. The planchette spelled out HER.

Jessica lifted her fingers, and Angie screeched at her to return them. “If you don’t say goodbye, the spirit will have an open invitation to come into you!”

“To come!?” Jessica mocked. “To come into me?! Oh, the horror — don’t come into me! Pull out first, Ghost.”

Angie scowled. “You’re so gross.”

As they bickered, you stared at the planchette. It was still active, despite Angie and Jessica’s attention being pulled away. It quivered back and forth, as though it was shaking nervously.

Once Jessica’s wandering mind had been reigned back in, the three of you managed a few more more questions; some about murder, some about occult, and some about other ghosts in the house. Eventually, the sun disappeared from your window, plunging your room into darkness, and your mother called the three of you down to eat. Your friends stayed for about an hour after dinner, and they’d seemingly forgotten about the Ouija board. You hadn’t, though. You leaned your back against the door, the coldness of the glass piercing through your cotton shirt. Your eyes trailed up the staircase, following the bend of the bannister as it curved to the left. Before you made your way upstairs to ready yourself for bed, you craned your neck down the hall, trying to listen for the whispers.

You sat upright in your bed, gasping for air. The book clutched in your hand fell to the floor with a thud. You hadn’t even really remembered falling asleep, but the creak of your floorboards had woken you up. You were met with nothing but the silence and glittering darkness of the room while your eyes adjusted. Eventually, the speckles turned into furniture pieces; your dresser, your mirror, your bookcase… everything seemed in order. The clock on your bedside table incessantly blinked 2:34 AM.

Something skidded across the floor, a spinning blur of tan and black. You yelped, throwing yourself up against your headboard. Your room was silent save for that sound of something hard scooting against a flat surface. You took a deep breath, and crept forward gingerly, wincing each time your mattress creaked.

You gripped the edge of your bed frame tightly, knuckles paling. You peered over. In the middle of the floor where you’d been sitting earlier, the Ouija board was laid out. The planchette swept across the board as it had earlier, but this time with no hands to guide it. It zipped across the board aggressively, as though it was trying to get your attention.

“Hello?”

The triangle paused, then slowly drifted to hello.

Dumbfounded, your mouth opened and closed. You were at a loss — because no horror movie had ever given you any idea how to politely hold a conversation with a spirit outside of the traditional setting.

“Um…. can I… help you? Are you here to possess me?”

Stupid. That was stupid.

Watching as the planchette swept across the board, you read the letters allowed.

“L…A…Y…. Lay? Lay. Okay. B…A…C…K? Lay back?” You waited for further confirmation, but the planchette stayed still for a moment.

It started spinning again, quickly spelling out a final instruction. “Close my eyes. Lay back and close my…. eyes.”

You heaved a sigh, and against your better judgement, you did. You shimmied back underneath the covers, pulling them up to your chest, and waited. The seconds were excruciating, and you were sure some horror movie had to have started like this.

The duvet rustled at the bottom of the bed, and all at once, a gust of cold air hit your feet. The mattress gave to the weight of someone, and you yelped at the feeling of clothed shoulders nestling in between your thighs.

A broad hand ghosted across your stomach, fiddling the scalloped edge of your pyjama shorts. It swooped into your inner thigh, then circled down along your knee. Though the actions were soft, you couldn’t help but feel the knot forming in your stomach. Letting out a soft whimper, you bit your lip, clamping down hard. One hand slid up, caressing the curve of your ribs. You writhed. “You’re driving me insane…” you whispered harshly. Had you really been that touch starved?

Lips hovered over your inner thigh, the hot breath washing over the warm skin. A single finger ran along the inside, trailing further and further up. He slowed as he neared you, wordlessly asking for permission.

“Please,” you begged, doing everything you could not to scoot your hips down into him and embarrass yourself any further. “Please…”

He continued. The pad of his finger floated over you, stroking, teasing until the wetness soaked through the threads. The hands disappeared, but only to return to the sides, where they gripped the waistband, tugging them softly off your hips.

You took a deep breath and immediately clamped your hand over your mouth, muffling the shrill whine that tried to escape. Whoever he was, lapped at your cunt like it was a melting ice cream cone, and it didn’t take long for it to start weeping, soaking the green sheets beneath you.

Your chest rose and fell quickly, and your eyelids fluttered, overwhelmed with the sensation. Everything was white and on fire. Your thighs trembled deep within the muscle with every flick of his tongue. Were you really getting eaten out by a ghost? Was that actually happening? You felt silly acknowledging that. His tongue flattened out against your clit and you let out a whine, erasing every other thought. He pressed his face deeper into your wet folds, tongue flicking at the underside of your clit.

“Fffffuck, oh my god.”

You had to know. You swallowed, and tightened your lips into a thin line. You were ready for whatever horrifying visual would meet you. With one final surge of courage, you flipped the covers up, opened your eyes and gazed into the tented darkness. A head of soft, blonde curls bobbed softly between your legs.

“HELLO?!” It wasn’t a greeting, but the boy lifted his head from your cunt. Two dark eyes glimmered at you from beneath the duvet.

“Hey,” he said, chin glistening. “I’m Tate. I used to live here.”

“You’re so…. cute?”

He smiled crookedly, the dimples in his cheek deepening. “Were you expecting Freddy Krueger or something?”

Your head fell back on the pillow like an anvil and a breathy laugh broke your pants. “Yeah, maybe. Jesus Christ…. I don’t know. I’ve never had a ghost between my legs.”

“You liked it. You’re so wet.” He was pleased with himself, you could tell. Reaching one finger up to stroke your opening, he angled his head to watch the way you clenched and squirmed at his touch.

“Was I… were you the one I was talking to with my friends?” He nodded. He shifted his weight, manoeuvring himself up until he was above you, supporting himself with hands on either side of your neck.

“I’ve been watching you since you moved in, Y/N… I didn’t want to scare you away.” He confessed, searching your face. “I’ve wanted you for weeks.”

You were scrambling to keep your thoughts in one manageable bundle. On one hand, this scenario was insane and you were sick to be enjoying it. On the other… sure, he was dead, but he was easily one of the cutest boys you’d ever seen and the way he wanted you was intoxicating. His dark eyes darted from your lips to your eyes, wordlessly asking for permission. You craned your neck up to meet him, pressing into his plush, pink lips.

You’d never been one of those boy crazy teenagers, but you understood the cathartic release that sex brought. It was carnal and natural. You’d only ever slept with one other person, so the hunger was never sated, and you were left quietly fingering yourself after your parents fell asleep. Every time you’d had the chance to have made out with someone though, you tasted them. Deeply. Kissing someone released their scent, the one that only intimate partners got. And none of them had ever been as heady and addictive as Tate was. You tilted your head to get further into his waiting mouth, swirling your tongue with his. You whimpered, sending a moan down his throat.

You reached under, sliding your hands down his stomach. The tiniest trail of hair guided you to the waistband of his jeans, where you made quick work of the buttons. Breaking the kiss only to help with scooting his jeans over the curve of his ass, Tate quickly returned his lips against yours, his tongue moving past your lips eagerly.

Although you were going in blind, it wasn’t difficult to find his cock. Not only did it take up most of the space between you two, but it was hot to the touch, the heat radiating from beneath the thin fabric of his boxers. You pressed your hand against him, getting an idea for the length.

“Huh. So, you weren’t lying about that.” Tate’s hips ground against your palm in response. You reached up, flipping the elastic down so you could slip your hand in, dragging your fingers along the soft tip. Your palm was immediately slick with his precum; the thick fluid coated the soft skin. You used your thumb to smear some of it to the underside of the head, teasing at the ridges. He groaned, burying his face into your neck.

“I didn’t lie about anything you asked me.”

You began stroking him underneath the sheets in slow, full movements and Tate’s breathing hitched, hips bucking forward involuntarily. You sped up, feeling warm droplets dribble onto your exposed tummy. Your thumb pressed into the squishy flesh of his head, not expecting the reaction that followed.

“Mm-uh—please. Please, I want you. Please.” He was begging, whining, and his big brown eyes were filled with a pathetic yearning that made your walls soak even further.

“So do it.”

He wasted no time in completing your demand. He sat up, the covers falling off his back.Tate gripped himself, giving his cock a few pumps before he lined himself up, pressing his hot, leaking tip into your entrance. Snatching the opportunity from him, you bucked your hips up to his, forcing his cock inside. You clenched around him hungrily and Tate let out a throaty whine as he pushed the remaining length into you.

He started out slow, taking his time as he slid in and out of you, but the slick pull of your walls each time he slid out unravelled his concentration. Each thrust seemed a little more desperate than the last, his balls slapping against you, splashing the mixture of his spit and your cum against your inner thighs. Bottoming out inside of you, he arched his neck backwards, letting it hang heavy. “Are you a virgin?”

“Wha — no.” You breathed, adjusting your head on the pillow to look at him. Odd question to ask in the middle of the deed. “Why?”

Tate swallowed, and between pants, said, “Because…. you’re so wet.” He dropped forward, pressing his forehead against yours. His cock was still inside, the girth hitting you at a new angle, and the fullness made your stomach clench.

“I’m going to fuck you hard, okay? Tell me if I’m hurting you. I don’t want to hurt you.”

You nodded fervidly, and slithered your hands underneath his sweat-soaked shirt until it gathered. Tate lifted his arms, and allowed you to slip the shirt over them. You tossed it towards the edge of the bed, and raked your nails along his naked chest.

“Please.” It was your turn to beg. Tate backed his hips out, pulling himself from your warmth. “I want it.”

He dropped back down to his hands, getting a tight grip on the mattress behind you. His lips met yours again, hungrily. It provided only a momentary distraction, because the second that Tate started pounding into you, you could focus on nothing else — except suppressing your aroused screams. He scooted closer to you on the bed, angling himself to get deeper.

He was hitting every spot he could, and your breaths quickened as he fucked you closer to the edge. You bit down on your lip, squeezing your eyes shut. He had just started, and you were already about to lose it.

“Are you gonna’ cum? Huh?” Tate asked, now struggling to keep his rhythm. If you were close, he seemed to be closer — and you didn’t feel so bad. Tate reached down, pulling himself out to slide the tip of his cock over your clit a few times before stuffing it back in. Your lips parted in a soundless scream as you felt the unmistakable warmth filling you, the quivering in your legs, and the desperate, spasming arch of your back.

“Fuck, fuck,” Tate chanted, feeling your orgasm as it gripped him in a wet, pulsing chokehold. “Fuck!”

As he spilled into you, Tate fell atop of your body, pressing his sweaty forehead against yours. His hips were on autopilot, erratically bucking with each gush. You winced, on the verge of overstimulation. Gradually, his thrusts slowed.

He flopped over on the side of you, one hand stroking the outside of your thigh delicately. He was gazing at you dreamily when you turned to face him.

“So, do I have to bring out the Ouija board each time I want to see you?”

Tate propped his head up on his hand. “You want to see me again?”

You rolled your eyes to the ceiling, a taunting smile curling around your swollen lips. “Uhhh… yeah.”

“I can be here every night if you want.” He purred.

“Haven’t you been anyway? Or did you lie about that?”

Tate’s brows pulled upwards, looking hurt. “I told you — I didn’t lie about anything! I’d never lie to you!”

“Okay, shh —“ You silenced him with your lips. “I’ll be right back. I have to pee.”

For the first time since you’d moved in, you weren’t afraid of ghosts as you walked to the bathroom. You were just afraid that the one in your bedroom would be gone when you got back.

He wasn’t, though.

#Tate Langdon #American Horror Story #ahs murder house #tate langdon smut #ahs smut #tate langdon x reader #tate langdon x yn #myfics #fanfiction #ahs fanfiction

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ashes-writing · 1 year

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a n a t o m y | ahs murder house ; t.langdon

|| taglist,babes + req rules + send ?s + masterlist + kinktober masterlist ||

** graphics made by me courtesy of pinterest + google image search. The list of prompts provided so generously by @the-purity-pen -huge thanks, y'all please go check them out. **

𝚍𝚊𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚛𝚝𝚢 𝚘𝚗𝚎 ; 𝚌𝚘𝚛𝚛𝚞𝚙𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚔

Summary ;

--- (pt 1 of 2 ) tate just wants to help you learn anatomy in any way he can. 90's/early aughts Med School Tate Langdon au. this one is for you bestie @tbmunson because without our talk this NEVER would have clicked for me.

Pairing ;

90's!CollegeGuy!MedStudent Tate Langdon x fem!reader

--- no physical description given beyond having female parts.

Warnings ;

--- minors, abso-fuckin-lutely not. In addition to the prior, murder house and his og backstory doesn't exist + tate langdon is not a ghost, but a med. school student, innocent reader, slightly pervy!sweet tate, lots of lustful touching, innuendo, corruption kink, use of medical terminology, nudity, lustful gazing, foreplay heavy -touching and dry humping, mostly. The banner is different because this is a whole other version of Tate Langdon, who is at least 22 here.

Taglist ;

--- the people listed below are the only ones I have on my american horror story taglist. If you'd like to be added, click the little link up top.

@krys-orion

@hajimaaaaaa

“I’m never going to remember all of these. How the hell does Professor Adams expect us to remember all the muscle groups and their placement in the body along with everything else? I’m going to fail this.” you’re disgusted as you toss down the pile of flashcards on the counter. Tate looks up from the textbook in front of him and chuckles, nodding to it. “Everything okay?”

You rub your temples, you can feel the migraine setting in already. Tate raises up from his chair, moving to stand behind the chair you’re sitting in, hands at your shoulders. As he starts to massage your shoulders, you bite back a soft gasp and your eyes flutter open and shut. The way his hands feel on your body has you thinking about anything but the textbook and the notes, the flashcards in front of you, but you don’t dare say this aloud.

Falling in love with your roommate is a recipe for disaster and sadly, you have.

But you’re probably not his type, you’re introverted, you’re not supermodel hot, you’re actually kind of a nerd and you’re not like the other girls at school, you’re very inexperienced. Awkward.

As Tate feels the tension gathered in your shoulders, he continues to massage, leaning himself against you lightly as he stops massaging you to reach out and pick up a pen lying on the tabletop. “I’ve got an idea.”

You glance up at him over your shoulder and he’s tugging off the Nirvana shirt he’s wearing, letting it fall from his fingertips as he holds the pen out to you and bites his lip. It’s so hot the way you get flustered so easy around him. He’s definitely gotten the suspicion that you’re not like other girls, you’re innocence and light. Warmth and pure. And god help him, he’s drawn to it like a moth to flame. He wants to protect it and at the same time, he wants to ruin it, ruin you for other guys so he can have you all to himself.

His little idea is just a foot in the door.

“What’s your idea?” you ask, brows knit in confusion, cheeks on fire as your eyes have no choice but to roam his bare upper body and your whole body burns just a little hotter when your eyes lock on his big brown ones and you see him staring back at you, the softest of smirks on his mouth. He holds out the pen to you. “Label them on me. It’ll help you see it and remember it.”

“Tate, I–” you bite your bottom lip but you take the pen and give him a weak but thankful smile. “O-okay.” your hands are shaking as you step up to him, dragging the pen over his chest first, marking off the pectoral muscles. He swallows hard and bites back a groan, managing to keep a straight face the whole time he’s doing it but as that pen moves lower, he can feel himself getting really, really hard. He never stopped to consider that getting you to do this -getting you to touch him in the process, was going to be the tease it was turning into.

You’re done labeling his upper body and you’ve stepped closer to him at some point, when it happens and your bodies brush, he bites back the quietest of growls, quick to disguise it with a chuckle. He can feel the pen shaking in your fingers but he doesn’t say anything, instead pretending he doesn’t notice because the last thing he wants is you to stop touching him. He grabs the textbook from the table without breaking his gaze and bites his bottom lip as he reads out each grouping of muscles you’ve labeled.

“See?” he chuckles, stepping just a little closer as he sits the book down on the table nearby, brown eyes fixed on you, leaning down and into you just slightly. It’s enough that you can feel your thighs clamp together tight as your panties really start to soak through. And you’re flustered, stammering for your words. He pushes the pen back into your hand and takes a shaky breath. “Do y’ think you can remember the others? Or do I…” he nods to his jean clad lower body and you nearly swallow your tongue, stammering out that he doesn’t have to do this, that you think you can remember.

“I don’t mind, darling.” he coaxes, biting his lip as a low and dark chuckle slips past, “Unless it’s gonna make you uncomfortable? That’s the last thing I want to do, princess.” and he wants to punch himself when the pet name leaves his mouth but he can’t help it, you’re bringing out this whole other side of him and it’s so overwhelming that he can’t possibly keep fighting it.

“N-no. No. It’s fine. I just…” your eyes are glued to his hand and the way it hovers over the button of his jeans. As the button slips through the buttonhole, you just barely bite back an unholy whine threatening to come. Then he’s unzipping his jeans and your breath catches, hanging in your throat. His pants fall to the floor and you tell yourself not to look down but naturally, this is the first thing you find yourself doing. Tate sees it and he licks his lips, reaching out to lightly grip your jaw, giving just the smallest squeeze as he tilts your face so that your eyes meet his.

“You alright?” his question is asked in a husky whisper, his mouth just nearly grazing against your own… And if you were smarter, you’d have figured out by now that he’s definitely up to something. And it’s everything you’ve lain awake nights imagining, touching yourself underneath the bed sheets, all hot and bothered as you picture what your hot and broody roommate might look like beneath his clothes.

“Y-yeah.” you manage to stammer out the word and it’s lame, weak. You’re not okay right now, your stomach is coiled and your thighs are clamped so damn tight they hurt and you’re visibly flustered, you’ve dropped the damn pen before you even realize it. Tate bends to pick it up and maybe he’s teasing a little when he looks you in the eye and uses that smooth tone he’s so adept at using and the one that always calms you down, “Relax. ‘S not like you’ve never seen this…”

“Right, yeah.” you’re laughing despite knowing full well that Tate’s cock is the first cock you’ve actually seen before and now that you have, all you can think about is how badly you wish it was buried inside of you. You try to shove the thought out of your head and focus on labeling the groups of muscles that make up his thighs and then his calves and you pause when you hear him grunt and it’s this husky sound from deep within him.

You’re dangerously close to his cock right now, the warmth of your breath fanning against it a little when you breathe in and out. He squirms a little, tries to keep his composure so he doesn’t make things awkward, but your breath against it has it getting even harder. He fixes his gaze down on the top of your head and tries like hell not to imagine curling his fingers in soft strands, tugging as he pushes your mouth down around his member.

When you stand again, holding up the pen to him, he lets out a long and ragged breath and his legs finally seem to relax, even if only a little. “Let’s see how y’ did.” he picks up the book again, noting all the names and areas you’ve marked off, chuckling to himself as he sits the book to the side again and bends down, pulling back up his jeans and black boxers. “Think you can remember now?” he asks, his tone huskier as it leaves his mouth. You’re stepping closer too, your bodies bump against each other, his hand against your hip just slightly. You give him a flustered smile and nod, taking a deep breath. “Yeah.”

“Good.”

“If you…” you start to offer yourself up to do the same for him, but you can’t even begin to make the words leave your mouth. The door to your shared apartment is being beaten down and Tate grumbles as soon as he hears one of the frat boys he’s friends with yelling through the other side.

The second Tate is gone to answer the door, you lean heavily against the fridge and you try your very best to pull yourself together.

You’re going to need an ice bath now and you know it.

#90s/aughts!medstudent!tate langdon #tate langdon #tate langdon smut #tate langdon imagine #tate langdon fanfiction #tate langdon x fem!reader #tppkinktober2022 #tppkinktober #tppkinktober22 #kinktober #kinktober 22 #kinktober 2022 #kinktober22 #kinktober2022 #<- minors absofuckinlutely not. a general warning for all my adult content.#-> please read all warnings before reading.#<- female reader ; vague description (female parts)#-> we're ignoring his death and literally everything else bc i have an idea. if you wanna see more please... tell me so bc i have... ideas

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wherewritersgotodie-blog · 29 days

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Superstitious (Kai Anderson x reader)

“swear on your life you don’t want me.”

warnings: smut. penetration w/o protection. dom!kai. oral (reader receiving). light degradation & taunting. bdsm themes. kinky. idk what else prob smth

You were Winter’s best friend since middle school. Two girls who grew up to have the same values, the same beliefs, and a lot of love for each other. She took care of you, you took care of her.

Every Saturday, you went over to her house for dinner. Sometimes you’d go out to parties, some nights you’d stay in and watch a movie.

So, as always, you knock on Winter’s door at 6pm on Saturday evening with a bag of take-out hanging from your left arm. You waited at the door, almost going to knock again, just before the door swung open, her asshole brother Kai, not Winter, standing at the door. “Hm. My favorite little brat. What can I do for you?” He cocked his head to the side, leaning his arm against the door.

“Uh… I’m looking for Winter?” You say, sliding sideways passed him, underneath his arm.

“She didn’t text you?” he asked.

“No, why?”

“She’s gonna be out tonight. She went to campaign. I thought you were going with her!”

“Oh, fuck!” you say, “I totally forgot. I’m such a flake.”

“It’s fine. She’s good on her own.”

“And she called me this morning. Damn. Whatever, I’m going next weekend. It’s fine,” you say, mostly to yourself. Then you turn and reach out to open the door.

“Hey, wait!” he called out, “You’re taking the food?”

“What, you want it?” you asked, raising your eyebrows, holding out the bag.

“Are you kidding?” he said, taking the bag from your hand and placing it on the table.

“Alright, see ya,” you wave dismissively.

“Bye, slut,” he responded, sitting down at the table.

You get in your car and turn the keys. The car stalls. Shit. You turn the keys again. The engine sputters.

You walk back into the house, your keys swinging around your finger. Kai is lifting weights in the living room when you get back in. He stops to turn and look at you. Those muscles. “Hey, big guy, any idea how to fix an old Honda?”

“Yeah. Get a fuckin’ new car,” he laughs to himself.

“Kai, seriously,” you say with a whiny tone, pouting.

He caves, exhaling. “Fine. You owe me.”

He saunters out to the car, popping the hood. He looks at it for a few minutes. “Well, I could fix it, but my box is in my car. Winter has it,” he says, leaning on the front of the car, crossing his arms.

“Shit,” You say.

“You can wait here ‘til she gets back,” he smirks.

“Uhm, I think I’ll walk home,” You say, looking him up and down, “Thanks…”

“Walk home? Across town? Alright,” he says, slamming the hood shut then walking back toward the house.

You looking down the street, the wind hitting your face, freezing cold. “Ugh,” you say, then run up behind Kai. He holds the door open for you.

“Attagirl,” he says, smirking.

“Whatever.”

“Don’t be a bitch or I’ll make you walk home.”

“You wouldn’t,” you say, smirking, leaning against the doorway.

“I would,” he says, leaning against the kitchen counter. “I totally would.”

You walk to the sink. He watches you bend over the counter slightly and reach up on your tippy toes. “Why are your glasses all the way up on that shelf?” You say, frustrated.

He walks up behind you, grabbing a glass. He then raises his hand to hold up the glass out of your reach. You look at him in frustration. “Come get it,” he smirks.

“Kai, stop,” you say.

“Come get it or I’m not giving it to you.”

“Ugh!” you say, then try to reach up to grab the glass. He lowers it, then pulls it away. You reach up again. “Please?” you ask.

“There we go,” he says, handing you the glass. “Was that so hard?”

“You are a huge dick,” you say, filling up the glass.

“You wanna know about my huge dick?” he whispers in your ear from behind you.

You cringe, scrunching your nose, “Ugh! Gross.” You turn around, taking a sip from your glass.

“Right,” he smirks. He looks down at you, cornering you into the counter, slowly, so you almost don’t notice it. “So you don’t ever think about me?”

“What?” you say, turning red, putting the glass down.

“You don’t think about me fucking you? Ever? You’ve never thought about it once?” he says, leaning his arm on the cabinet.

“I- No! No, I haven’t,” you affirm.

“Really? Swear on your life?” he smirks.

“What?”

“Do you swear on your life you’ve never thought about me fucking you?”

“That’s not fair. You know I’m superstitious about that. I don’t know everything I’ve ever thought!” you retort.

“Fine. Swear on your life you don’t want me. Swear on your life in the past week you haven’t thought about me fucking you and liked it?”

“I,” you pause, panicking. “Fuck this! I’m not doing this with you.”

“I knew it!” he smirks, “I knew you had a crush on me,” he says victoriously, backing away from you completely.

“Oh, you are such an asshole!” you shout, embarrassed.

“And you like it, that’s the fucked up part,” he says.

“Stop,” you glare at him, blushing a deep red, “Seriously.”

He walks up to you again, pressing your back against the counter, putting one hand on the back of your neck, one on your waist. Your breath hitches. Your chest heaves. You blush, looking up at him, eyes flickering all across his face.

“Right,” he smirks, nodding like he had just proven what he knew all along. “Swear on your life you aren’t wet as fuck right now.”

He’s a fucking sadist.

“Kai, please,” you say breathlessly.

“Do it. Do it or I’ll find out myself,” he whispers in your ear.

You feel like you’re drowning, your breath is so heavy. He is relentless.

He waits a moment, smirking at your silence. He then puts his hand down your leggings, over your underwear. When he feels a large pool of wetness through the lacy fabric, he closes his eyes for a moment. “Fuck,” he whispers.

He pulls his hand back up, making sure to brush his fingers over your clit long enough that you ache when he puts his hand back around your waist, pulling you against him.

“How long have you had a crush on me?” he says, looking you in your eyes.

“I don’t know,” you breathe.

“Nah, you do. Tell me,” he said quickly, confidently, the words almost stringing together into one word.

“I don’t know, a couple years,” you mumble.

“A couple years?” he laughs. He slides his hand down over your leggings between your legs again, “Shit, you must like this then.” He rubs you, sliding his hand roughly, even possessively, farther down and up, his middle finger in line with your clit.

You moan, leaning your head against his chest. “Yeah… Yeah, you do,” he says in a mocking tone. You can hear his malevolent smirk. “You like it a lot.”

He uses his other hand to wrap around where your jaw meets your neck, forcing your face up to look at him. “So you do want my huge dick?”

You stare at him, biting your lip. Were you really about to fuck your best friend’s brother? Really? Seriously? No. You should say no. You’re gonna say no.

“Yes.” Shit.

He picks you up, wrapping your legs around his hips, holding you by the back of your head, stroking your hair, and around your waist. You lean your head over his shoulder. He carries you to his room.

He throws you onto his bed.

“You’re a fuckin’ slut,” he smirks, leaning down to kiss you, positioned between your legs.

“Not usually,” you deny mindlessly.

He grabs your breasts through your shirt, letting out a low growl. “So you’re just my slut, then?”

You look up at him. “I didn’t say that.”

He then pulls your one leg farther towards him so you’re forced on your side, then he smacks your ass hard through your leggings. You gasp, then blush.

He raises his hand again, smirks and brings it down harder than the first time. You whimper. He rears his hand up one more time, then stutters, searching for your anticipation. He sees your expression carved into your profile. Were you… smiling?

He was rock solid now.

“Shit, you like that?” he laughs. “Anybody ever do that to you before?” he pushes you again onto your back.

“Uh-uh,” you respond.

“Yeah… you are my little slut,” he affirms. Then, he kisses you deeply, holding you by the back of the neck, his other hand wandering down your body, squeezing periodically.

You lean up suddenly, so he offers no resistance. You put your hands up his shirt, pulling it up. He leans down to allow you to pull it over his head. You through it onto the floor.

Everything accelerates viciously after this one move.

He pulls off your shirt, throwing it to the floor. You begin to unbuckle his belt, and he attempts to pull off your pants. It’s chaotic; your hands are clashing, you’re getting in each others’ way.

It becomes, to Kai, at least, a race to see who can get the other bare faster.

Obviously, Kai wins. He pushes your hands to the side many times, pulling your leggings over your legs, unclasping your bra with his one hand (concerning, but you ignore it), throwing it to the floor. Then, he leans down to your hip bones and he pulls your underwear off with his teeth.

You haven’t even finished unbuckling his pants.

He throws your body so your head is against his pillows. He crawls up to you, leaning over you, necklace hanging in your face.

He’s a fucking animal.

Just like you imagined.

He kisses you harshly, nearly biting you. Then, he kneels, legs tucked under themselves, widely spread. He pulls your body up, wrapping you around his waist again. He is holding onto your entire body like his life depends on it, kissing down your neck, sucking on your collar bone. You are scratching at his back, head tilted to the bed, eyes closed.

He throws you back down again, then puts his head between your thighs.

“So easy to toss around,” he talks against you.

He begins working on you with his tongue. You wrap your fingertips in his hair, tugging at it, pressing his face farther into you.

He takes only a few moments of this before he comes back so his face is in line with yours. He grabs your wrists and presses them together above your head. He squeezes them hard for emphasis.

“Don’t move them,” he whispers. You know he’s serious.

He leans back down, continuing to you work you with his tongue. He wraps his arms around the highest place of your thigh, pulling you down into his face.

Your back arches and he chuckles against you. The vibration shakes to your core.

It hits you all at once and you unravel beneath his mouth. It’s so intense you convince yourself you’ve died for a moment.

He leans himself back up to hover over you, wiping his mouth with his hand.

You stare up at him in admiration. He does not miss this. You keep your hands above your head.

He pulls his belt off, laying it next to both of you. Then, he pulls his pants down, along with his boxers, all in one smooth movement.

Fuck. He wasn’t kidding.

What were you even supposed to do with it? Surely all of him wouldn’t even fit inside you.

He smirked as he saw your train of thought reflected on your face.

In one swift motion, he flipped you over so you were on top of him, hovering over his thighs.

He leaned up, grabbing your wrists, putting them together behind your back.

He held them together with his one hand, grabbing his belt with the other. Then, with a few moments and his two hands behind your back, looking into your eyes, he tied your wrists together. You struggled against the leather, but the crafty contraption was totally foolproof.

Then, he grabbed your hips, leaning back to rest his back on the two pillows stacked against his headboard.

“You okay?” he asked with a genuine smile, putting his hand on your arm.

“Very,” you nod.

“Good,” he said, and that was all he needed. He put his hand back on your hip, lifting your body up so you were hovering over his length. “Breathe,” he commanded.

You took a deep breath and he sunk himself into slowly, pulling you down onto him. You dropped your head back, letting a moan escape.

He groaned, also leaning his head back, “Holy shit,” he dragged out the words. “Holy shit. Fuck.”

His grip loosened on your hips as he was fully submerged in you. “Woah,” he whispered. You smiled at the commentary.

He kept his hand on you, pushing you back and forth. You worked on him, rolling your hips and pushing yourself up and down on top of him.

You moaned out as he thrusted himself up into you slightly. It had to be at least eight, you thought.

You both move against each other with an intense rhythm, your hands behind your back, his traveling all across your upper half.

He watches you intently, his mind worshipping the sight of all of you on top of him like this, eyes gliding down your hips, over your stomach, your face as you bit your lip and closed your eyes in ecstasy. He groans deeply, almost growling, digging his fingertips into your hips.

He pushes himself forward so he’s sitting, his one hand behind his back, propping himself up.

You rest your forehead on his shoulder and he wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you back and forth against himself, the entire warmth whole bodies in full contact.

“Fuck, Kai!” you moan.

“Yeah, baby?” he smirks, his forehead coated in sweat.

You feel that you’re going to finish again, and he feels that he will, too. You pull away, looking into his eyes. He looks back into yours.

Then, you rest your forehead on his. The knot in your stomach is wound so tight you can barely breathe.

His chest is heaving, which is saying a lot, considering his fitness.

“Oh, fuck,” you moan against his mouth. He nods.

You both release at the same time, him grasping onto your body, you moaning into his ear, him groaning against your neck.

When he finishes inside of you, you both pull away. He laughs, and you do, too. He undoes the belt behind your back.

You pull away from him, laying beside him.

He lays on his back for a moment, then turns on his side, propping his head on his hand, tracing his fingertips down the center of your stomach.

“My slut,” he whispers. You turn to him, pushing his shoulder playfully.

Then, he kisses you, smiling into your mouth.

When he pulls away, he looks at you, then smirks. You watch him, smiling, slightly confused. He pushes himself up from the bed, then leans down to look underneath it.

“Oh, shoot,” he says.

You cock your head to the side, “What?”

“Toolbox was here all along,” he smirks, putting his hands on his hips.

if you liked this pls tell me i love validation. also i will take requests asf

#kai anderson x reader #kai anderson ahs #kai anderson #american horror story #ahs x reader #evan peters x reader #evan peters #evan peters ahs #ahs fanfiction #ahs #tate langdon #kit walker #peter maximoff #i love him #badly

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