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#tate langdon x you
Note
i'm soooo glad you're back!!! love your writting so much, was thinking about some ghostface¡ tate or shit yk...like everyone who flirts with reader end murdered
i’m sorry this took me so long to do 😔 but i sorta did my own twist on this request, hope you don’t mind… i love it… anyway… :)
~~~
Lovefool
Tate Langdon x f!reader
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warnings: murder, smut, stalking, obsession, very toxic, manipulation, very minor talk of drug use… virgins, yeah idk what else it’s just stalker tate being crazy for you
summary: tate’s loved you since the first moment you met, and he would do anything to be with you… anything…
word count: 4.4
~~~
2011
You stare at the boy in front of you, a mix of emotions stirring inside you. He’s your age still, you aren’t too surprised at that. You’re more surprised at the fact that he’s in front of you. It’s been so long since the last time you saw him. You remember the pain, the pure fear that paralyzed your body the last time the two of you had an encounter. It still makes you uneasy.
“What are you doing here?” You ask, your voice weak.
He shrugs. “It’s Halloween.”
“There’s been plenty of Halloweens Tate and this is the first time I’ve seen you here. What do you want?” You reply in a harsher tone than.
Tate shrugs again and starts to play with the sleeves of his sweater. You can’t believe this is real. You want to close your eyes and pretend this is all a sick dream, though you haven’t slept in years. After a few seconds, you cross your arms over your chest and take a deep breath. This isn’t going to be easy.
“Tate the fact you even have the balls to try to find me is crazy, what happened? Did you suddenly feel some sense of guilt? Are you finally sorry for what you did to me? I don’t even care if you are sorry, I don’t care about anything except the one question I’ve wondered since the night it happened,” you say.
“What question?” He responds.
“Why?” Your eyes start to burn. “Why did you kill me?”
~~~
1993
Tate had never seen any girl as beautiful as you. Never. Not in a movie, not in a magazine, nothing. From the first time he saw you in kindergarten, he knew there was something special about you. Of course, he didn’t know it would grow into what it did until middle school when his hormones took over. His feelings for you quickly transitioned from a pure crush to a sick obsession. And the best and worst part of it all was that you had no idea.
You never really spoke to him. He was out of your league. You were popular, but not braindead popular like the people you surrounded yourself with. Tate had seen you in some of your classes. You were smart, you got the best grades in those classes. You had plans for yourself after high school, unlike your friends. That knowledge only made him admire you more.
The problems began when you started going out with one of the popular boys in your group, David. He was awful for you; Tate didn’t understand why you chose to have such a relationship with someone like that. He’d watch how David would wrap his arms around you in the hallways, leave small kisses on your cheeks, and whisper words in your ears that made your face turn bright red. It made him furious.
What did David have that he didn’t? Why was he so special? Tate knew he could give you more than David ever could. So, why were you with him?
Tate quickly became blinded by rage and jealousy.
At night he’d lie awake, the knowledge that you might’ve been out there opening your legs for another boy making him sick. That’s when the fantasies began. He imagined killing David. How would he do it? Where? In what way would leave the least amount of blood on his clothes? The image of his mutilated body consumed Tate’s thoughts. He liked it.
It was around that time that he had found the mask.
It was a strange mask he found in the basement. It had a long white face with black holes for the eyes and a long mouth. He wondered which resident of his house had left it there for him. He didn’t know, and frankly, he didn’t care. All he knew from the second his eyes fell upon that mask was that bad things were going to happen.
He started going out at night and driving by David’s house. The mask he wore gave him a sense of power he never knew he could feel. At first, it was innocent. He’d simply drive down the other boy's road and look through his window for a few minutes before leaving. But all it took was one second of seeing you inside to blow the whole thing up. He was livid, seeing red. He decided he needed to bring his fantasies to life and get rid of David for good.
Halloween was when the opportunity to kill David became undeniable. By that point, Tate had been stalking the two of you for a month so he knew the basics. Which room was Davids, how to get into his house, and where his parents were most likely going to be. He had it all planned out. So, on Halloween night he put on the mask along with black robes that covered his entire body and ventured to the other boy's house, ready to kill.
He brought a knife, and when the time was just right, he snuck in through one of David’s open windows and started his game. He crept through the empty house, not making a sound. Getting to David’s room only took him a few minutes and what he heard from outside the door made him not regret his choice at all.
“Yeah, I know, listen she’s so close to finally giving it up to me and that’s what I’ve been working for this whole time. Once it happens, I’ll dump her, easy,” David spoke into his phone. His voice was cocky. It made Tate clench his jaw in frustration.
“Because dude, do you know how many girls from school I’ve already got under my belt? Y/N is just gonna be a name on my list. Yeah, whatever, I gotta go anyway I need to shower for the party, maybe I’ll get lucky, and she’ll drink too much. Okay bye.”
Before David could even get up from his chair, Tate kicked the door down and stormed in, too overpowered by his rage to think about anything but slitting the other boy's throat. He pounced on him, stabbing the knife into any part of his body he could reach. David screamed, but Tate quickly silenced him by shoving the knife down his throat. He felt empowered, he felt thrilled at the sight of his dead peer. It was amazing.
Tate didn’t waste much time gawking over his achievement, however. Once he was sure David was dead, he quickly pulled the knife out of the boy and fled out the window and back to his car. As he drove through the small neighborhoods of your guys' town, he wondered how big the news would be. Would you cry? He hoped you wouldn’t. Not over that asshole. You would move on, and Tate would wait however long it took.
~~~
The news of David’s death spread faster than wildfire and consumed Westfield High’s drama for weeks. Out of all the kids in the school, you took his death hardest. Seeing you so depressed almost made Tate regret his actions. He couldn’t bear seeing you tear up in class or show up to school two periods late. You weren’t like that.
However, as the days turned into weeks, you started to appear healthier and happier, and soon enough you were back to your normal self. Tate was glad, you were always so much prettier when you paid attention in class. He decided it was time for the second part of his plan to finally act. Though he was incredibly nervous, he knew it was then or never. He couldn’t risk you getting a new boyfriend that he’d have to kill again.
So, one day, he followed you into the library when the two of you coincidently had a study hall during the same period. His heart was beating so loud he could hear it in his ears. There you were. sitting at one of the tables alone studying, and he was going to speak to you. He’d thought up conversation starters all morning along with taking a few extra hits off his bong to help with the anxiety.
He shook the nervous thoughts from his head and grabbed his notebook from his backpack before walking in your direction. Your head was down, your hand moved aggressively across the paper as you wrote your notes. Tate stood at the other side of the table for a few seconds simply admiring you. His hands were shaky, his breathing uneasy. God, you made him lose his composure by existing. It was excruciating.
After he was done staring, he spoke, his voice quiet. “Hey y/n, do you mind maybe helping me with some of that psych homework?”
Your head shot up, your eyes instantly meeting his. He swore he couldn’t breathe. You, y/n, were looking at him on purpose. At that moment he didn’t care about what you were going to say, he didn’t care if you completely rejected him. All he cared about was how good it felt to have your eyes on him. Such innocent, loving eyes.
“Oh, yeah of course Tate that’s actually what I’m working on right now. Just sit, we can do it together. Unless you’re like super behind,” you answered.
“Are- Are you sure?” He couldn’t help the uncertainty. Did you really say yes to him?
“Yeah... should I not be?” You replied with a smile.
“No- sorry.” He sat down across from you. He could smell your perfume; he’d never been this close to you. “I just wasn’t sure if you even knew who I was.”
You chuckled. “How could I not know who you are? We’ve literally been in the same school system together since kindergarten.”
“I don’t know. You’re you know popular and stuff,” he said as he opened his notebook.
“Not really, besides even if I was that wouldn’t automatically make me forget anyone. But anyway, you can use my notes in a second, I’m almost done with the page,” you responded. You looked back down at your work and started writing again.
Tate nodded despite you not paying attention and watched as you wrote. He felt like that whole conversation was another one of his daydreams about you. Was he really sitting across from you? Or was it another mid-class nap? He cracked his knuckles to make sure he wasn’t dreaming and thankfully, he wasn’t. It was all real life.
“Sorry if this comes out as creepy, but I feel like I haven’t seen you around in a while. I mean, when was the last time we even spoke?” You suddenly spoke, your eyes back on his.
“I guess you weren’t looking hard enough to see me,” he said with a shrug. All his confidence was a facade because on the inside he was losing his mind.
He noticed the way your cheeks slightly turned pink before you replied. “Yeah, I guess I wasn’t. But I should have been.”
He knew deep down you were going to be his for so long, but at that point, he knew he had already achieved his goal. You were his.
~~~
“What is this place?” You asked as you clutched your cardigan around your body.
Tate smiled and grabbed both of your hands in his. “I told you it’s a surprise. Patience is a virtue.”
“I have patience, but I also have a lower body temperature than usual and it’s bothering me so I would really appreciate it if you’d just take me to the surprise already,” you said, a small smile forming on your lips.
“It’s seventy degrees.”
“Yeah, but it’s also windy at the beach and it’s probably colder than seventy because of the ocean’s temperature.”
Tate sighed and leaned his head down to press a small kiss on your lips, a feeling he still hadn’t gotten over. “What am I going to do with you?”
“Terrible, naughty things I hope,” you replied, kissing him again. “But please lead me to your special surprise beach spot.”
Though he wanted to stand there and kiss you all night, Tate obeyed your request and began to lead you further down the beach. It had been a few months since the two of you started talking, and to say it progressed would be an understatement. Tate had truly underestimated how easy it would be to capture your attention. All you wanted was a sweet, caring, genuine boy and he could be all those things easily.
So, after a month of being friends, he asked you out and you said yes. The relationship grew deeper with each day, and it didn’t disappoint him one bit. He loved everything about you. The way you’d lie on your bed with him and talk for hours, the way you’d make your relationship with him public by holding his hand in the halls, and most importantly the way you never expected or wanted him to change to fit in with your friends. You liked him for who he was, and it melted his heart.
It was your three-month anniversary, and Tate wanted to make it special. Even though he knew before the two of you got together that you were a virgin, he didn’t know to what extent you were. He quickly became aware you had done most things already, just not full sex. At first, he was annoyed at the fact that you weren’t completely his because he had never done anything with a girl before you. But after the first night, you went down on him, he wasn’t that upset anymore.
On this night he planned to take the next step with you. He had it all set up. The blankets, the lights, all of it. As the sight of his setup came into view, he watched your face light up. You squeezed his hand and grinned up at him.
“Is this really for me?” You asked.
“Yeah, do you like it?” He replied.
You nodded and sped up to reach it, dragging him with you. Once you made it you dropped down to sit on the blanket, urging Tate to do the same. “This is so cool. You’re the first boy to ever do something like this for me. I love it.”
“I’m glad, I know how you like sentimental things,” he said as he wrapped his arm around your shoulders. “And I’ve been wanting to show you this spot for a while. I used to come here a lot as a kid and watch the waves with my dad... before he left. I wanted to make it special with you because you’re not like my dad. Right?”
“No, I’m not. I won’t ever do anything to hurt you like that. I lo- I like you Tate, a lot.”
Tate only stared into your eyes, his heart beating faster than it ever had in his life. You almost said you loved him. He knew then that night was going to be the night you finally gave yourself to him. Something in your eyes made him certain. Your eyes were dark. You stared up at him as if he were the only boy in the world. There was a feeling in the air, one of lust and fear.
“I’ll never want to hurt you either,” he mumbled after a few seconds. “I doubt I ever could.”
You gave him a small smile and placed one of your hands on his cheek. You caressed the skin with your thumb as you slowly started to lean your face toward his. He accepted your lips on him, kissing back instantly. It was the moment he’d been working up to for years. He was finally going to lose his virginity to you, and you to him. Nothing would ever compare.
~~~
The sound of Nirvana mixed with skin slapping filled Tate’s room. He couldn’t help the moan that left his lips when he looked down at you. Your back was arched so perfectly, your waist looked impossibly small, and your ass looked incredibly big. The side of your face was smushed against one of Tate’s pillows. You were so red, so loud you had to bite your hand to spare the whole house from hearing. Tate took in a deep breath and slapped your ass, his thrusts not faltering for even a second.
“Fuck baby, you look so pretty right now. You take me so well,” he whispered. He wrapped some of your hair around his hand and yanked you up, making you practically scream. “Yeah, you like that. You like being manhandled y/n?”
You let out another moan but didn’t reply. Tate slapped your ass again and threw you back down to the mattress. He leaned over you, your sweaty body feeling perfect against his. He was close to finishing. He’d already made you cum a few times that day, so he wasn’t too concerned about where you were. All he was concerned about was getting closer to you before he came.
“I love controlling you, you’re so helpless. Fuck I’m so close,” he mumbled in your ear. “You’re mine, all fucking mine forever. I’ll kill anyone who even tries to take you away from me.”
You made a noise and Tate couldn’t hold back any longer. He came inside you, his cock pulsing heavily. You groaned; his cock was hitting your cervix too hard it hurt. He waited a minute or so before finally pulling out and moving to the spot next to you on the bed. He’d never felt anything as amazing as having sex with you. He was breathless.
He was so caught up in his thoughts about what just happened that he didn’t notice your sad expression. When he eventually looked at you, he saw your frown. Immediately he turned to his side and faced you, reaching out one of his hands to brush a few of your hairs behind your ear.
“What’s wrong baby?” He asked.
“Nothing,” you replied.
“It doesn’t look like nothing you look sad; you can tell me whatever it is.”
You sighed and turned your head to meet his gaze. “Why do you like hurting me? Like during sex and stuff. You’re always so rough and I don’t know you’re really mean and sometimes the stuff you say is… scary.”
“How is it scary?” He laughed.
“You said you’d kill anyone who would try to take me away from you,” you said.
“Yeah, I would. I swear I’ve said this shit to you before. I would do anything for you, or to keep you,” he responded.
“Don’t joke about that Tate, you know I’m scared of killers because of what happened.”
“Oh, so this is about David? Why are you even thinking about him y/n he’s been dead for months. Do you miss him, or something is that it?” He questioned; his tone harsher than before.
You scoffed and sat up. “You’re seriously making this about me missing David?”
“Well, is that what this is about?”
“You’re unbelievable,” you muttered before you stood up and started to get dressed.
“Oh, my fucking God y/n I’m sorry for whatever I said wrong while we were fucking. Can we just move on already? I don’t see what the big deal is,” he snapped.
“No, we can’t just move on. You scare me sometimes Tate like genuinely. I know you mean it all in a sweet way but it’s weird. I love you but you don’t hear me saying I’d kill people if they talked to you or looked at you a certain way. That’s not normal.”
Tate sat up. “I wish you would say those things. I wish you loved me as much as I love you. I’d do anything you ask; I would shoot up the fucking school if you wanted me to.”
You looked at him, he could see the terror and fear in your eyes. “Are you serious?”
“Of course, I am. I don’t get why you’re acting so scared. I’d never hurt you I don’t even think I could if I wanted to, you mean more to me than any person alive or dead,” he answered.
“You’re sick,” you mumbled. You grabbed your bag and walked to the door. “I think we need some time apart; you aren’t sane.”
His heart practically stopped. “What?”
“We need to stop seeing each other for a little while, I can’t take this insane shit Tate. I’m sorry. You know I love you, but I need you to get some help before I can be with you.”
Before Tate could reply, you left. All he could do was stare at the door, a million thoughts roaming his head. Did you really just break up with him? Was that it? Did you just throw away everything the two of you had because you felt his love was too strong? It didn’t feel real.
As the night progressed, he tried to call you, dozens of times. But each call was either declined or rang out. His anxiety grew with each ring of the phone. Why weren’t you replying? Who were you seeing? Did he really mean so little to you that you could leave so easily? His mind spun with scenarios, each one worse than the last. By the end of the night, he had convinced himself you were cheating on him, and the following days only worsened his state of madness.
You ignored him completely in school. Every time he tried to talk to you, you either turned away or walked away completely. It hurt him terribly. He couldn’t understand what had changed so fast. He chased you around the halls for days, trying his hardest to get your attention. But it never worked. And so, his love for you began to fade into an awful rage.
He couldn’t let you just walk away from everything the two of you shared. You were his. Only his. He couldn’t let you leave him, not like his dad. He hadn’t spent his entire life chasing you just to end up losing you. No. So, he began to formulate a plan. He’d leave you alone for a few days then calmly ask you to meet him at the beach, in the special spot he once made for you.
He wasn’t surprised that his plan worked. You were predictable.
When the night came, he made sure he was prepared. He snorted a line, packed his bag full of your favorite things, and set off. As he walked down the beach, he made sure the knife he hid was secure in his pocket. It was smaller than the one he’d used on David, but it would do the job just as efficiently.
You arrived a few minutes after him, a sad expression on your pretty face. He fought the urge to run to you with open arms.
“Thank you for coming,” he said. Only a few feet separated your bodies, he wished he could close it. But he needed to be patient.
You took a deep breath, you looked nervous. “Yeah, look Tate I... I’ve thought about it and I... I really think we should stop seeing each other for some time.”
“Why Y/N? I love you, so fucking much. I’m sorry for what I said, I can change, I won’t say shit like that ever again. I’ll be gentle, I swear. Just give me the chance I can be whatever you need me to be,” he replied desperately. He opened his bag and pulled out your favorite candy. “I love you; I really do. Please give me another chance.”
He watched your eyes fill with tears. You wanted to give in, he could see it in your eyes. But you only shook your head and wiped a fallen tear from your cheek.
“No. I’m sorry. Tate, you aren’t gentle, that’s not who you are. And I don’t want you to pretend to be someone you aren’t.”
Tate swallowed hard. “You promised me you’d never leave me; you said you were nothing like my dad. Was it all a lie?”
“Of course not!” You exclaimed and took a step closer to him. “I love you; I really do. That’s why this is so hard.”
“If you love me, why can’t we work this out? Don’t lie to me Y/N.”
He couldn’t stop his eyes from watering, nor could he stop his lips from quivering. He dug the bouquet of your favorite flowers out from his bag and held them out to you.
“Please,” he mumbled. “I need you.”
You caved. You wrapped your arms around his waist and held him tight. He could feel your muffled cries on his chest, it pained him. You were a sensitive sweet girl; it was both your blessing and curse.
“Maybe in a few months, we can try again, I don’t know.” You looked up at him with bloodshot eyes. “We just can’t be together right now. And I mean we’re going to graduate soon, and I might go to a college far away, how would that even work? But I don’t want to hurt you.”
“It’s too late for that Y/N, you’ve already hurt me.” He dropped what he was holding and dug one of his hands into his pocket. He touched your face with his other hand, your tears covering his palm. “You’ve planned on leaving me this whole time. I wanted to give it another try you’ve made up your mind. I guess it just comes down to one thing.”
“What?” You asked.
“If I can’t have you, no one can,” he whispered before he pulled out the knife and plunged it into the side of your neck.
~~~
2011
“I killed you because I loved you,” he answers. “Because you were going to leave me and find someone else.”
All you can do is stare at him in silence. You think back to everything that happened. How could you have been so blind? It couldn’t have been your fault though. He would’ve killed you anyway. You think back to all the times Tate made you uneasy, all the times he would say things that creeped you out. Deep down you must’ve known that’s who he is. Maybe you knew all along.
Maybe you loved him because of his darkness.
You exhale a long breath. “We don’t have that long till midnight.”
“So?”
You shrug. “Wanna hook up?”
70 notes · View notes
jellyluvr · 8 months
Text
The Evans
- their fav position ⋆ ˚。⋆୨୧˚
I think spill the t already did this but it's chill 😋
18+
° . • Tate Langdon • * . ☆ · ° . *
Definitely a bitch for doggystyle.
Anal or vaginal, he'd totally like fuck your brains out in that position.
He'd like it so he can pull your hair and get a better grip on you. And for the view of your ass ofc 💋💋
Luvs taking it from the back. Standing up, laying down.. really doesn't matter to him. Probably cup ur tits while it too
° . • kit walker • * . ☆ · ° . *
What an angel.
Based on how sweet he is he'd probably be bottom. Let you fuck him, yknow?
If he doesn't, definitely just a generic fuck. Him on top, u on bottom. Totally kinda rough unintentionally though
° . • kyle spencer • * . ☆ · ° . *
MISSIONARY!!!
He'd love missionary mainly to see your face. Maybe a few touches on your tits but yknow it's pretty chill.
Regardless of how you react to his size the show must go on.
Too big? Comforting. Slower and kisses.
° . • Franken kyle • * . ☆ · ° . *
Any position where he can get what he wants.
He'd probably have trouble even picking.
So his favoriteS would be from the back, and missionary.
Back as in turned over while sleeping until his needy ass comes along.
If it's not him, definitely you fucking him rather than the other way around.
° . • jimmy darling • * . ☆ · ° . *
Against any surface is the way to go for him
Wall, desk.. bed... even the floor.
He'd push your cheek into it while fucking you or put his hands on the wall or surface.
Basically from the back but he has a preference for it definitely.
° . • James patrick march • * . ☆ · ° . *
Missionary. No arguments about it. Missionary!!
He's definitely kinky and teasing, so he'd bring a knife in and possibly fuck you with the handle 👀 (lmk if you want a fic abt that)
Or on a surface as well, but you facing up. He'd make it to where you could see him the whole time. If you tried to look away he'd probably slap you or turn your head and keep it there.
° . • kai anderson • * . ☆ · ° . *
Anything.
Anything to feel your pussy around him.
Missionary, or against the wall.
He'd fold you and put your knees over his shoulders most likely.
Kai'd like it so he could see his dick in you, and the cum oozing out when he was done.
He would definitely nibble on your tits while fucking you too. Like no doubt.
° . • Jeff pfister • * . ☆ · ° . *
Over something.
From the back anal or vaginal like tate.
He'd like it because he wouldn't have to see your face. As mean as it sounds, you're probably just his side chick.
If you're not, he'd fold you as well. Quite rough too.
° . • Austin Sommers • * . ☆ · ° . *
With you on top of his lap.
He'd hold you and fuck you pretty rough.
Whisper in your ear occasionally, give you no mercy on your clit. 🙈
And of course, he'd definitely cum inside. Everyone knows that.
° . • peter maximoff • * . ☆ · ° . *
Ohhh...
He's not the rough type, but also not the gentle type.
Missionary. Definitely.
He'd go to your liking, take your moans and face expression as a hint to slow down or go faster.
He'd probably kiss you a lot during it. Along your neck, face.. chest. Leave a mark on you 💕
───────────────────────────────
I probably left out a few things so I apologize if so lmfao
Taglist: @kaismanwich @tatelangdonsgirll @daylas-life @hyperharlz @kaiju-superstar @howtobesasha @luttic @spill-the-t @ima0nahlol
3K notes · View notes
nolovelingers · 8 months
Note
hi omg i loved ur hcs for ethan landry as ur bf <333 do you think you could write something like that, but for tate langdon, please?
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TATE LANGDON AS YOUR BOYFRIEND ⋆ ˚。⋆୨୧
ೄྀ࿐ requested ! ˊˎ-
headcanons — // cw ! : dark themes ,, obsessive tendencies,, nsfw !! similar to ethans i try to keep these as realistic as my silly little mind is able to think !! very toxic relationship 🌀 talk of self harm & smoking
——————————————————————————
 SFW !!
TATE LANGDON AS YOUR BOYFRIEND . . . is like meeting someone who’s not like anyone you’ve ever met. there are no duplicates, copies or a person even remotely similar to the dark eyed boy.
there’s always been something about his odd personality that has a strange charm to it. he’s always held himself up to his own standards and even back before the entire westfield high situation he’s been very picky about his living style and the people he surrounds himself with.
so therefore when he met you, the stilled silence to his violent tornado, it was as if everything else in the world dimmed and the spotlight shone to you.
he would never leave you alone. not when you move rooms, not if you try to have people over, not when you stormed into the backyard and sat under the flickering moon as you desperately grasped for alone time. not even when you go to the bathroom.
the second he came into your life and you allowed him to, privacy no longer existed. the only time he would ever leave was if he had his own emergency to partake to or if your guardian(s) were around.
at first it was cute, you couldn’t really deny the fact that having a boyfriend so attached to the hip and dependent made your heart flutter in some sort of way. but you quickly learned that even as dreamy as it sounds it’s not all that great.
if you run to the bathroom and lock yourself inside the langdon boy is fast to follow suite, confused on where or what you were running from until he watched you shut the restroom door and he slid his back against it; knees brought up to his chest as he patiently waited for you to come back out. and trust me, he will wait. doesn’t matter if it’s hours or even half of the day. he won’t move an inch.
you hardly invite friends over but the few times you do you’re fast to regret it. you tell him your friends coming over, hoping he’ll take the hint to leave, and he’ll only blankly stare at you; face devoid of any emotion as he mutters a gentle ‘oh’ before returning to looking through your collections of whatever it is you have an abundance of. maybe books, cd’s, vinyls, comics, posters, crystals/rocks, stuffed animals, funky socks or a hoard of animal bones; there’s nothing in your room tate hasnt gotten his hands on.
even after you alert him of the approaching company unless you plan on shoving him out or repeatedly asking him to leave he doesn’t plan on going anywhere. he’s terrible at reading social cues and you have to spell out the simplest things for him.
he’s quick to judge your friends, not one of them is good enough for you in his mind and he’ll be sure to voice that. sometimes even straight to their face; with a blank expression and no emotion behind his eyes. it doesn’t matter how close or how long you’ve known someone, could even be your whole life, they’re not good for you like he is.
he often says the most terrible and disgusting things about them to your face, judging you heavily for the people you hang around and making you feel insecure.
he is definitely the type to drive wedges in between all of your relationships. just with your friends at first but as the relationship furthers he begins to do the same to your family too.
obviously he can’t leave the house but if there was ever a time you ranted about someone you dislike, hurt your feelings or overall anything spoken poorly about them he would remember it till halloween and carefully map out their murder. i mean, you wanted them to die right? why else would you tell him about it?
tate is extremely oblivious to your emotions. he loves you so much and it’s clear to him you must be meant for each other. so no matter how you feel back, reciprocated or not tate would assume you liked him too. he refuses to be in the friend zone and throws a hissy fit if you ever even try.
as we all known he’s one of the prettiest criers out there and this is very useful when it comes to manipulating. he knows you have a weak spot for seeing his tears and now anytime you try to lecture him, kick him out or he feels as though you’re not understanding his (rather malicious) side of the story the tears are quick to fall. but the tricky thing here is that they are always real tears of sadness and regret; it’s just as though he’s reprogrammed himself to cry at any minor inconvenience.
his favorite cuddle position is spooning and he often likes to be the little spoon. no one in his life has ever cared for him enough (or at least in his eyes they haven’t), and when you have your arms securely around him, pulling him into you; it’s like heaven on earth. he feels so safe, warm and comforted. there are of course days where the rolls switch but there’s really no denying he prefers to be the one being spooned.
id definitely say he’s a sort of pathological liar and even when he doesn’t mean for it to happen lies fall from his mouth as easy as tears stream from his eyes. it could be about the stupidest shit or it could be actually serious as he tries to work his way out of a situation he’s actually at fault for.
this makes it really hard to trust him, because it’s eerily scary how easy it is for him to lie straight to your face with even blinking, or come up with excuses on the spot. i know people like to claim they’re usually good at picking up when people are lying to them but with tate it’s a huge challenge. he’s unnaturally good at it and doesn’t hesitate.
it’s not easy to pick up on his fibs in the moment but there are a few times you’re able to realize later on; as his stories don’t add up or he forgot his lie in the first place and comes up with a completely different one when asked the same question from before.
and even then once he gets caught; deny deny deny. you’re the one in the wrong for accusing him of something like that when he just has a poor memory and suddenly you’re the bad guy for pointing fingers even though you’re the one with evidence and he just throws out empty accusations.
if you smoke i think he’d love to break into your stash a lot, he didn’t use weed before his death but once you introduce him i see him as a sort of mini-stoner. he’ll use your stuff without even asking. he kind of contradicts himself in that way because for the most part when he was still living he thought people who smoked or drank were stupid, ruining their body. he looked down on them. when you’re dead though you cant really destroy your body and though he still doesn’t like drinking he’ll indulge in smoking.
if you do any sort of after school activity or club he’ll encourage you to quit, telling you how it’s all stupid and a waste of time that you could be spending together. if you refuse he’ll try to sabotage it for you the best he can while being confined to the house. maybe sending a nasty email to your teacher/coach or by ruining a uniform or equipment you use.
there’s definitely times when he’s asked you to drop out of highschool to which you immediately declined and there’s not really much else he could do about this nuisance.
langdon will put you onto his likes and interests, music or movies he has a taste for. he’ll try the stuff you like as well but he’s quick to judge and doesn’t do second thoughts or tries. if he doesn’t like it he won’t even pretend to and will harsh out negative reviews before you turn it off. and then he’ll act confused on why you suddenly stopped it but he’s very glad you did. he couldn’t stand it.
and because of this when you’re hanging out it’s all about what tate wants to do. the music he wants to play. the things he wants to talk about and the films he wants to watch.
jealousy is a major problem for him and the mention of really anyone, but especially if it’s a guy, will have his blood pumping and his head spinning.
to him, he only has you. it should be the same way around, he absolutely hates that you have and know other people that aren’t just him.
tw? — if you ever try to leave him he goes all out and puts on the most dramatic show you’ve literally ever seen. throwing himself against walls, screaming and crying his eyes out, burying his head in his knees and clutching at his hair while begging and pleading for you to stay. he doesn’t get angry at all but turns more pathetic and desperate as he clings onto you. lots of “ill do better”, “you can’t leave me”, “tell me what I did wrong” and “you’re all I have”’s leaving his lips. if this doesn’t work he’ll harm himself in front of you, smashing his head against the wall or even using a sharp tool to cut into his arm while only asking one thing. “is this what you want?”
tw? — it’s a very draining relationship and can impact your mental space a lot. if you self harm he will catch you eventually, whether it’s while in the act or the scars/scabs from after. he’ll grab your arm (not assuming that’s where you sh, just so he has a grip on you), asking you how you could be so selfish (which is his way of caring) and then asking you to cut him instead anytime you wanted to hurt yourself. this is obviously off putting and drives a wedge between you for a while, which he will trap you back by guilting you and apologizing. (even though he was completely serious when asking and still is.)
the blonde haired boy lives for your validation. he’s constantly asking for reassurance and pestering you with loads of questions. whether if it’s if you like his outfit to if you still had feelings for him or not.
he’s a huge listener than he is a talker and could sit for hours, happily criss crossed and a toothless and content smile on his face while you go on about every little detail of your day.
he’s definitely asked you to do his eyeliner before but would rather die (again) than have anything else applied to his skin. it would cripple his masculinity.
overall he’s very touchy, craving for any contact he can get with you. resting his head on your shoulder, holding hands, his hand on your thigh or pinkies intwined. he always has to be touching you in some way.
recommending books and songs are one of his all time favorite things to do and he does expect you to read or listen to all of his suggestions. he’ll ask you about it a few days later after initially suggesting it and will get upset if you still haven’t looked into it.
tate hardly gets angry, he’s very sensitive as we all know and most of the time it ends in his hysterical sobs; but when the fire inside him lights it’s terrifying.
if you weren’t the one to make him angry you’d usually be okay, he’d rant about it to you while you played with his hair; describing all of the horrendous ways he wanted to see the person or thing he’s mad at crash and burn. if he’s angry at you it’s like he moves on his own, putting you in a chokehold and slamming you against the wall, yelling and pointing fingers at you. pushing items off your desks/dressers/shelf’s and you make him go away; scared of him hurting you. he wouldn’t, not intentionally, but it was a very scary sight to see.
of course within hours he’d return, tears streaming down his face and begging on his knees for your forgiveness, arms latched around your legs as he sobbed into them and refused to let go until you forgave him.
as much as he loves you and wants you to be together forever, he would never purposefully go to the extent of killing you in the house so you could stay with him forever at the age you are. it sucks, he knows it sucks, but he does have a boundary set for that. he doesn’t want you stuck there for the rest of your life. he’s just hoping you’ll stay in that house with him willingly anyway. he’d let you go after crying his heart out for days, but he’d never let you forget him or move on. and being honest; he would probably start to regret the decision.
his love for you goes beyond words, it consumes him completely. he knows now his purpose. the day he died in that house and the years that passed waiting up to the day he met you.
he was made for loving you, in his own sick way. you are his entire heart.
NSFW !!
tate is a switch in the bedroom, but he’s so easy to dominate which makes him lead towards being more submissive. of course he’ll be in his dominant moods, there’s no doubt, but it’s laughable how easy it is to take control back over him.
he loves to overstimulate you, fucking you or relentlessly giving you head for hours, not giving you rest inbetween as you beg for him to stop through shattered moans.
(if you’re a female) — we all know about his mommy issues and he definitely incorporates that into the bedroom in some ways.
(if you’re a female) — he’s a tits man rather than ass and anytime you’re going at it your shirt has to be off, he doesn’t care what size breasts you have all he wants is to attach his mouth around your nipples and tease them with his tongue, sucking lightly before leaving hickeys all over them.
(if you’re a female) — he has the best fuck me eyes the worlds ever seen and when he’s bottoming he can’t stop himself from calling you ‘mama’.
he’s very kinky, and he has put on the infamous leather suit before to fuck you. it makes him feel more powerful, like he’s in control.
when he’s topping he’ll have one hand pinning one of your arms above your hand while using his other to interlace your fingers, crying into your neck with all the pleasure he’s feeling.
he’s not the greatest on cleaning up afterwords but he always snuggles you, cuddling up to you in a ball and resting his head soundly on your chest as his breathing slows and he drifts off.
but the most important thing to know — tate is godly at sex. he doesn’t have the most experience in the world but he definitely wasn’t a virgin by the time you met and he knows what he’s doing.
˚ ༘♡ ⋆。˚ a/n : thank you sm for requesting , made my day !! i hope that this is to your liking, i appreciate the compliment ab my ethan headcanon i tried my best <33. my inbox is open to all !!
started 08.06.23. finished 08.07.23.
©️nolovelingers 2023
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marchsfreakshow · 6 months
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Clingyness {Tate Langdon x Fem!Reader}
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You're watching a horror movie with Tate, and he gets worried for you, so you decide to find a way to comfort him.
For my big sis @lilthbunny 💜
18+! Minors dni with this fic.
Warnings!: Oral (M receive), praise and praise, p n v, Sub!Tate, Dom!Reader, horror movie generalness, mommy kink, kind of ooc Tate, crud smut writing.
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Tate and you were snuggled together, under a warm duvet, the rain was storming, making the atmosphere feel more and more like a cliche. But he was resting his cute head on your chest, an arm placed around your waist, as one of yours held his own waist. No one dared disturb you two today.
It was Halloween.
Despite Halloween being the day that ghosts could roam free, Tate wanted to watch a movie tonight. It made you happy anyway, too many parties and drunk rowdy teenagers. He agreed that it was a night to stay inside and watch Halloween movies. Snacks were on your lap and Tate's lap, with two hot chocolates on the bedside drawer. Nothing but the best for my princess, Tate thought, looking up at you. You were distracted by the movie. It was a movie you somehow had never seen.
The Banana Splits Movie.
The premise of it enticed your horror movie-loving heart. It was a scrapped Five Nights At Freddy's script, but the creator rejected it, so it was created as its own movie. A horror movie about killer animatronics that don't act like actual animatronics. Being you, you had to look up everything about the movie and even watched a YouTube video about it which counted the kills and went into detail about how the movie was made.
But, bringing you out of your thoughts was Tate cuddling himself up to you, like he was trying to get on top of you or in your skin. Either of them would be okay with him. "Baby, you okay?" You asked softly, petting Tate's hair. He looked up at you with a dark puppy eyes look and nodded towards the TV screen. A character had been sawn in half from Fleegles's magic box. His fiance, kneeling by his head, and crying, mourning her loss. It ended up scaring Tate, and his imagination was going crazy, worrying about what if that happened to you, or if any of the kills happened to you or him. Losing you in any way possible made Tate scared out of his mind. "Oh, Tate..."
"I like the movie, but I don't want to lose you like that."
"Baby boy, you know I'm smart enough to not get myself into a situation like that." You replied as Tate made a little 'mmh.' noise. Sighing, you kissed Tate, gently holding his face. He kissed you back, suddenly eager. As the movie carried in the background, both you and Tate carried on with a make-out session. The screams and general horror movie noises kept going, the light from the TV lighting your back as you were straddling your boyfriend's lap. It didn't distract you at all, considering something was distracting you instead. "how about I prove to you that I'm gonna be by your side forever yeah?" You quickly asked, sitting up. Tate nodded, smiling.
Both of you started to move to each other's wants and needs. Tate holding you at every angle possible, and you remove your clothes as well as Tate's. The duvet was the source of warmth, but you doubted you would need it in a second. So, while Tate was distracted by leaving hickeys over your chest and collarbones, you decided to grind on him and his exposed cock. Moved back and forth slowly, making sure he felt every part of it. He shook slightly with every moment, taking a grip on your waist and small, little whimpers leaving his mouth, and yours. The only other noises you heard were coming from the TV. Well, fuck the movie now, you thought, staring at the clingy, whimpering boy you were on top of. But, you stopped eventually, and the whimpers were left with sounds of Tate wanting you to grind more on his hard dick. Instead, you crawled down onto your stomach, holding yourself up with your elbows.
"You ready my darling?" You asked, pumping Tate painfully slowly.
"Please, please mommy.." With the whines Tate made, you kept on pumping him but licked the head of his dick, coating it in your own saliva with a mix of his pre-cum. You stared up at him, not wanting to show him any mercy, but he was so cute to you, humping your hand and his eyes rolling back. Just for being so cute, you praised your boyfriend by enveloping his head in your mouth, taking your time to go up and down, and attempting to hit every good spot you could find. Your hand slid up and down the last little bit of Tate's cock that you couldn't fit in your mouth, but he didn't seem to care as he kept thrusting in your mouth to all he liked. Quickly though, you stopped him and sat up, resting back on his cock lightly. "Mm fuck, mommy.. continue, please?"
"You're such a good boy, aren't you? Wanting me to do everything?" Tate nodded in reply as you leaned down, kissing and sucking his neck, small hickeys appearing everywhere. Tate clung onto you like he usually would, staring at you softly. "Mm, okay then, just for being such a good boy for mommy," You whispered in his ear, lining yourself up and lowering yourself on Tate's cock. He grabbed your hips immediately and unconsciously, ready to start thrusting. However, before he could start fucking you to the stars, you took his hands and pinned them to the bed's headboard with your own hands, using them as support as you started to move up and down. The feeling of going so slow made Tate want to start thrusting in you and making you feel good like he had plenty of times before.
Both of you started thrusting, which in turn almost made you see stars. Tate's more needy, but it felt so good either way. "Oh f-fuck I love you.." He muttered, his breathing heavy, and his hands gripping yours as they were still pinned above his head.
"I love, you too my cutie." Thoughts of edging Tate ran around your empty, desperate mind as you could sense he was close. The extra whines, calling your name out more, trying to snuggle into your neck. You decided that you should, so you let go of his hands. But just as you did, Tate pulled you down and stopped you thrusting, confusing you. "p..pup what are you doing-" you interrupted yourself with almost scream-like moans as Tate did nothing but thrust up and hard, you were unable to control yourself as you clung to him, and came as fast as you blinked.
Tate soon realised that, and stopped. "Are you okay? I'm sorry if I went too hard." You got up despite being shaky and laid beside Tate, catching your breath. Both he and you took your drinks, drinking the now lukewarm hot chocolate.
After you had enough drink to suffice, you put it back and smiled at Tate. "I'm okay, were you close?" In which he nodded. "C'mon, on top of me baby." He grinned, moving on top of you and immediately re-entering you. He started sloppily thrusting again, you clinging to him again as he hit everything right where it felt good.
Only a few minutes went by before, "mommy...fuck fuck, mommy-"
"Cum."
Tate cummed inside you, still holding onto you as he rode it out best he could. Both of you reached for the towel that was placed sort of intentionally by your bed and cleaned each other up. "I'm so proud of you baby boy, I love you."
"I love you Y/N." Tate kissed your nose gently, putting the duvet on top of you both, getting comfy again. By now the movie was three-quarters done, but you still watched it, cosying back up with Tate being in your arms.
⊹˚.⋆ ₊꒷ᘏᘏ︶ଓ︶꒷꒦⊹˚ᗢ₊꒷︶ଓ︶꒷
Taglist: @taintandviolent @howtobesasha @hyperharlz @tatelangdonsweater
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evanpetersmybf · 2 months
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Be mine?
Tate Langdon x female!reader
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Summary: Meeting you was his destiny. He had to make you his so he could feel alive... It was meant to be.
Genre: Smut.
Word count: 3,172
Warnings: Virgin and inexperienced reader, mentions of bullying, self-harm (just once and is nothing detailed), obsessive and stalkish behavior, swearing, cunnilingus, fingering, unprotected p in v and cumshot.
A/N: English isn't my first language and this is my first time writing smut, so sorry if it sucks or if I have grammatical mistakes or something TT. Btw, also sorry if Tate's out of character. Anyways, hope you enjoy it!
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ཐི ♡ ཋྀ
Tate had another bad day. It was the usual. Bullying, failed tests, the teacher humiliating him after he couldn’t solve a simple equation on the chalkboard, his mother scolding him. Nothing seemed new, and it seemed that nothing wasn’t going to change at any point.
He needed something, a reason to live, something to make him feel alive. Because he was dead. Dead in life, which in his own opinion, was even worse than being a rotten corpse.
He headed to the music store after secretly stealing some of his mom’s money, just a few bucks; the enough amount to buy a vinyl or some CD’s. Tate was sort of a music elitist, always believing that the artists nowadays just created pure, hollow, and trashy songs. In fact, he didn’t believe those could even be considered music.
Walking around the nearly empty store, rummaging through the shelves filled with Nirvana vinyl’s, someone bumped into him.
“Oh, sorry.” You spoke, after accidentally taking too many steps back and bumping into Tate’s behinds.
He frowned, somewhat annoyed at you for disturbing his moment of peace. The blonde turned around to look at who it was, scanning your body from head to toe, taking note of your appearance. Then, his dark eyes drifted to the sign that was on top the shelf, which indicated the musical genre of the records that were on that rack. Alternative pop. His gaze went to the album you were hugging to yourself.
“Cry Baby? What type of crap is that?”
“Huh, excuse me?”
“Never mind, you won’t understand.” Tate talked in such a volatile and rude manner, already feeling superior because of his likes.
You arched an eyebrow. What was his problem? You did nothing to him and yet he was here, judging your amazing music taste.
“Well, people’s free to like whatever they want to, hmm?”
“Uh, yeah, but what’s the point of that if everything is so generic?”
“Have you ever listened to Melanie Martinez at least once?”
He shook his head no, still scowling, now fidgeting with a ring that was on one of his fingers.
“Have you listened to Nirvana?”
“Just like… Two songs?”
“Don’t tell me. Smells Like Teen Spirit?”
“Guilty.”
Tate rolled his eyes. What was going on with this generation? What happened to good music, to the greatest artists? Why was everyone just listening to trash?
After sharing your names and a few more words, debating about who was right and who wasn’t, you placed one of your hands over his right shoulder, as an attempt to stop his rant of how superior he was. And indeed, it worked. The teen stopped venting and stared at you, all confused and a bit uncomfortable. You noticed it and quickly stepped back, apologizing for touching him without permission. He told you it was okay, that you just surprised him. But deep down, that simple yet complex touch meant a lot to Tate, even if it was absolutely nothing to you.
For the first time he felt something more than sorrow.
“So… What do you think of this? I’ll make you listen to some songs by Melanie and other artists, and I’ll listen to your beloved beautiful grunge music.” You said those last words in a mocking way.
Tate huffed, clearly offended by the way you referred to his taste. Nevertheless, in the end he agreed with you.
After paying the stuff you two picked, both of you went to Tate’s place. As you walked next to him, your fingers brushed his, making his cheeks turn a light shade of red and his heart flutter. He felt dizzy, not sure about what was going on.
In his house, he took you to his room. The boy didn’t want his mother to see you, otherwise she’d be too nosy and probably scare you and push you away from him, and that was the last thing he wanted.
“Get comfy.” He mused, extending his hand as if inviting you to take a seat wherever you feel to.
“Thanks.” You sat on the floor, using one of the sides of the bed as a support for your back. He did the same and sat right next to you.
He was nervous. So damn nervous and excited. He brought a pretty chick to his place. The Tate Langdon, the outcast, the bullied, that Tate Langdon was in the same room with a girl? He couldn’t believe it.
“Ladies first.” Tate pointed the record-player with his thumb, and you obeyed, placing the CD in it. The music started playing.
“We could’ve used Spotify, y’know?”
“Nah, I don’t like it. I prefer the old school.”
‘Cry Baby’ was the first track that was listened to.
He squinted his eyes and rubbed his chin, analyzing the sounds, the melody, the harmony and of course the lyrics.
Although it wasn’t his style, you definitely were. The way you looked, talked, walked. How you stood up for your beliefs and didn’t allow him to step on you (even if you just discussed about music). It was new for him. He craved your independence. He craved you.
That was the very moment when he realized that you were the thing he was looking for all his life. You were the one who was meant to be his, he was meant to be yours. It was destiny. Tate truly believed it was some kind of divine prophecy, and he wasn’t going to let you go.
He was so immersed in his mind that he didn’t pay attention to the song anymore. He was solely focused on you, remembering how warm and kind your touch was, how sweet your voice was. ‘Oh, she’s mine’, he thought.
“So… That was the first track. Its name’s Cry Baby. Did you like it?”
Tate snapped out of it and bit his bottom lip. He didn’t listen to your question.
“I’m sorry, what did you?—”
“Did you like the song?”
“Ah, yeah yeah. It’s quite… Innovative. I’ve never heard something like that.”
You smiled and clapped your hands. “Of course! She’s such a genius. Let’s finish the album, hm?”
He just nodded, as a little smirk appeared on his face.
The days flew by, and Tate asked you out on many friendly dates. Or at least that’s what you thought because you were so oblivious at the fact that he had a fat crush on you.
With every hang out, you noticed that Tate was lonely. Like, really lonely. Maybe that’s why he was so clingy with you.
He told you about his family, about how annoying Constance was, about his siblings and about how his father left him behind. He also mentioned the bullying he suffered and almost talked about the self-harm but stopped himself.
Both of you grew closer, as his obsession.
Since you went to a different school, he would skip class and infiltrate your campus just to see you. He couldn’t stand being away from you. And if he did, his mind was full of you, thinking of you all day, unable to focus on his homework and tests. Tate didn’t care anymore if he failed subjects, as long as you were next to him, he was happy and alive.
The void he once felt, was now fulfilled with your mere presence. You could step on him, and he would thank you. In his twisted little mind, you were free to have everything of him.
He was willing to do anything to keep you by his side. The thought of losing was so terrifying that it would make him throw up.
Tate learned every single detail about you. Your mannerisms, your likes and dislikes, your dreams, and your fears. Everything. And that includes your schedule since you wake up, and since you go to sleep.
That was his definition of love. No one ever taught him about how to express it, and he ended up being the way he was with you.
One day he invited you over to his place. The Langdon's house was empty, and he was going to take advantage of it. No doubt.
“Your mom isn’t home?” You questioned as you followed him behind, going upstairs straight to his bedroom. Little did you know this wasn’t going to be another afternoon of playing board games while listening to some music.
“Nah, dunno where she went but she won’t be back any time soon.” He shrugged and let you inside of his private space,
You went to lay down on bed, feeling relief in your aching back after a long day at school. “Damn, I need some rest!”
Tate chuckled softly and sat on the edge, looking at you as you closed your eyes and tried to relax. He was focused on your steady and calm breathing, on how your breasts went up and down with every inhalation and exhalation. His eyes stared at your lips, at how kissable they looked. He felt a sudden desire, the intense urge to make you his. Feeling conflicted, he shook his head and tried to distract himself, pretending to ignore how aroused he was getting.
He wasn’t going to say it out loud, but of course he already had some wet dreams of you. He imagined you beneath him, your precious body shivering and responding to his touch, to his kisses. Your cunt wet and ready for him, just how he wanted to.
“Y/N…” Tate cooed, unable to hold back any longer.
“Yeah?” You opened one of your eyes and spotted him, sitting on the bed with his fists clenched over his thighs, while his breathing looked kinda rapid. “You ‘kay?”
“No.”
“Uh? What’s wrong?” You reincorporated and sat straight beside his warm figure. Your right hand touched his left, rubbing it up and down with your thumb.
Tate shoved you to the bed, pinning your arms above your head and holding them tight.
His breathing pattern was no longer normal. It was a heavy one.
His dark brown eyes locked with yours. Your orbs were wide, not understanding what the hell was going on. Or maybe you did but were in denial.
“Please. I want you.” He purred, seeing you with puppy eyes, the ones he knew you couldn’t resist.
“Hahah, you funny.”
He let out a frustrated whine, almost begging on his knees for you to get the hint.
“I’m not kidding. Pretty please. I need you.”
“Do you mean…?” You raised your head a few centimeters to look at his crotch in order to confirm your suspicions. Your cheeks had a cute blush as soon as you noticed Tate’s erection restrained by his jeans. It looked painful, and it actually was.
“Yes. I want to. Please, I truly need it. Please, please, please?” His voice was shaky and low, a needy desperate whisper. “Can I?”
This wasn’t what you expected for today. You saw Tate as a best friend, but you couldn’t deny he was handsome… And that he already provoked butterflies in your stomach before.
Hesitantly, you gave a shy nod with your head, giving him consent to continue. “But Tate… I’ve never done this before, I dunno what to do, I—” You trailed off, being cut off mid-sentence when Tate placed his lips over yours. The kiss was slow and tender, not rough at all. Your bottom lip was between his, as he nibbled it with extreme care to not hurt you.
After some seconds, he pulled apart and led his hand towards the side of your face, brushing some hairs away. “Don’t ya worry, princess. Leave it all to me, hm? I’ll be gentle. Unless you don’t want me to.” With that being said, he leaned into your neck, pressing his mouth on your sensitive flesh. He left sweet kisses, making you hum as you melted under him.
His lips continued to tease your skin, leaving some little bites between every kiss, trailing down to your collarbone. Tate stopped there and helped you get rid of your blouse, tossing it aside and continued his journey, this time kissing your sternum while his right hand cupped one of your breasts, kneading it gently over the fabric of your bra. He pulled down the straps and took off the piece of lingerie, setting your tits free.
The cold air hit you and your nipples perked up, looking ravishing and making him desire you even more.
He introduced one of the hardened buds into his warm mouth, sucking it greedily and making lewd wet sounds as he did so. His left rubbed the other nipple in circles, taking it with his thumb and index, pulling it and pinching it.
“Hmph… Huh…” You let out soft whimpers, slightly arching your back meanwhile he abused your breasts.
Tate stopped after some minutes, letting go of your nipple and looking at you, grabbing your chin and tilting your head to the side. He approached your ear and whispered, “You like this?”
“Yes…” You begged. Your voice was already ragged and shaky.
Instinctively, you pressed your thighs together, rubbing them as a pathetic try to feel some relief. Tate realized it and spread your legs with one of his hands. He took his digits right to your clothed pussy, eagerly rubbing the spot where your clit was.
“Someone’s already wet? Cute.” He giggled and took off his striped sweater, throwing it away. He positioned himself between your limbs and pulled down your pants, mesmerized as he saw your damp panties. Tate continued rubbing your bundle of nerves over the fabric of your underwear, still fascinated at how humid you were.
This was the moment he had been waiting for the past weeks. He wasn’t going to need to jerk off to your photos anymore, because now he would be able to jerk off to your tits in person.
Tate removed the last barrier that was stopping him from touching your womanhood directly. He pulled them down to your ankles and you helped him to get rid of it by shaking your feet.
He got closer to your cunt and placed your legs over his shoulder, spreading your folds with two of his large digits, blowing some air at the sensitive meat. Finally, he started sucking on your swollen clitoris, enjoying the feeling of your dampness against his face.
“Mmh…” He moaned, still toying with the nub. You grabbed him by the hair, not thinking about what you were doing. You just let yourself go and pulled him closer to your pussy, wanting to feel more. Your body twitched, unconsciously bucking your hips against his mouth that was currently making slurping sounds.
His attention changed and was now on your slit, teasing just the entrance with his hot tongue, while his nose rubbed against your clit. He lapped your pretty cunt, savoring your juices as if they were a delicacy.
Looking at your adorable face contorting in pleasure, he introduced his ring finger into your wet, tight hole. It was a slow and kind movement because the last thing he wanted was to hurt you. He slipped it deeper, pumping it in and out with care, increasing speed after a few seconds once he saw you comfortable. “Tell me if it hurts…”
“Mhm… It feels nice. Huh…” Your melodic whimpers and moans were just too much for him. He could listen to you for the rest of his days and never get tired of you.
Without further ado, he introduced his middle finger, now finger-fucking you with two. Tate’s thumb was also working wonders on your lil’ bundle of nerves in circular motion.
She was clenching around Tate’s large fingers, that he curled inside of her, hitting the right spot to make you squirm and feel a new and foreign sensation in your lower belly.
“Fuck it, I can’t wait anymore.”
He undid his belt, unzipped his pants and pulled down his boxers, quickly getting rid of them and letting them fall to the wooden floor.
You just stared in awe; it was the first time you saw one in real life.
Tate grabbed his hardened cock and stroked it a few times on top of you, finding amusing your silly reaction. The reddish tip was glistening with pre-cum, which he used as lube. He spat at your pussy and rubbed his slick saliva with two digits, before finally thrusting his dick.
He did it slowly, beginning with the head. Eventually, he pushed his entire length, hitting your cervix and stretching you out for the first time.
“Fuck, you’re so tight!” Even if he was taking the lead, he was a whiny mess, vocal and loud.
He continued pounding into you, his gaze never leaving your face. Tate loved how you rolled your eyes to the back of your head and how your little mouth was letting out such nasty sounds.
The room was filled with slapping and wet sounds, created by his skin slapping against yours, his balls always hitting you with every stab. Again, he placed your legs on his wide shoulders to have a better angle and pump into you deeper than before.
His big veiny hands were roaming all over your body, specifically your breasts. Within minutes, he developed an addiction to them. Probably because of his mommy issues? He grabbed them roughly, tweaking both of your nipples as he fucked you mercilessly.
Tate lolled his head as he felt your hole gripping him tight. Very tight.
He increased the pace and moaned your name, begging you to squeeze him tighter.
“Oh, please, please, please!” The blonde kept whining. He left one of his hands taking care of your nipples, while the other went back to torture your clit. He stroked it in circles, and then up and down, applying the enough amount of pressure to make you beg for more.
“Tate, I feel like I’m—”
“It’s okay, let it go, mhm?”
You couldn’t hold yourself any longer and squirted all over him, coating his lower body with your warm fluids.
“Oh, oh, oh, oh, gonna cum!” Tate pulled out from your cunt and pumped his cock with his hand finishing with a loud moan. His hot sticky white cum coated your breasts and abdomen, creating an incredible sight that he always imagined.
All spent, Tate threw himself next to you on the bed, pulling a blanket to cover both of you as he filled your pretty face in candy pecks.
“Did it hurt? First time usually does.” He looked at you, concerned for your wellbeing. “I was too rough?”
You laughed and shook your head no, caressing his messy locks with your fingers, tenderly scratching his scalp. “Don’t worry, I’m fine, really.”
Tate smiled at you and kissed you on the lips, “You’re so pretty, Y/N.”
You hugged him from behind, him being the little spoon this time. Your mind was going wild; you were still processing what happened and was about to drift to sleep when he whispered.
“Y/N…?”
“Mh, what is it, Tate?”
“I love you… Please be mine?”
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fear-is-truth · 2 months
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STOP THE WORLD (i wanna get off with you)
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⋮ 𝐟ic tags. . . sub!tate x fem!reader. nsfw. dry humping.
⋮ word count. . . 1k. requested by: anonymous
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Things with your best friend seemed to be heading in the right direction, you thought, but uncertainty still lingered. The fear of jeopardizing your friendship held you back. Heck, you weren’t even sure if Tate would want things to change. For all you knew, it might be delusional thinking on your part.
So here you were, seated side by side on your queen-sized bed, engaging in nothing more than each other's company. The mixtape you both had meticulously curated during one dull, rainy afternoon played in the background.
Tate inhaled a small breath, exhaling slowly through his nose. Despite the closeness, it wasn’t quite enough. Deciding to take a chance, he subtly shifted his knee closer to yours. Now, there was contact. You sucked in a surprised breath at his subtle yet bold move.
"Heart-Shaped Box" by Nirvana began to play, signaling the nearing end of the playlist, you felt the impending restart would mean losing all your confidence and chickening out completely. Before you could figure out a plan, Tate began caressing your hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. Your eyes instinctively darted downward to your entwined fingers, and your heart quickened its pace.
“Y/n,”
His voice was cracked with longing. Almost as if he was pleading you for something, or perhaps, for you.
You understood, or at least hoped you did. With that in mind, you lifted your other hand and gently stroked the side of his cheek. His skin was warm to the touch, a fact that never ceased to amaze you considering that he was a ghost.
Tate leaned in closer, his proximity making your lower belly flutter in anticipation. Your noses were now touching, almost on the verge of a kiss. Heart pounding, you met him halfway, mouths connecting— hot, wet, and eager. He opened his and you slid your tongue against his before sucking on it hungrily. He moaned, and you did too.
A thin, glistening thread of saliva lingered between your lips as you finally pulled apart.
“You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to do that,” he said quietly.
“How long?”
“Since the day you stepped into this house.”
Tate leaned back on the bed, propping himself up with his forearms, inviting you in. You immediately notice the prominent tent in his jeans, which made your cheeks heat up. Heart hammering, you decided to fuck all caution as you flung a leg over him, settling yourself in his lap. He immediately grabbed your face with both hands and pulled you into a kiss again, deeper this time. He sighed softly against your lips, relishing in the way your fingers carded through his curls and your nails scratching gently at his scalp.
Acting out of pure instinct, Tate began bucking his hips upwards, the sudden friction causing the both of you to moan harmoniously. He stiffened underneath you, stopping abruptly. You stared at him, confused and desperate for more. His quickly gaze rose to meet yours, embarrassment and guilt flickering in his eyes. Face flushed, lips slightly parted, unsure if he should continue.
“Do that again,” you told him breathlessly.
Tate immediately complied, resuming the rocking motion and picking up pace.
“Feels so good…” he mumbled in a strained whisper. You hummed in agreement as you grinded your pelvis into him, back and forth as you felt his clothed cock twitch once under your aching heat. You paused your movements, taking a moment to admire him. His eyes fluttered open, a disgruntled whine leaving his lips as he stared up at you. A pink flush adorned his cheeks, a delicate, rose-tinted hue. Brown eyes shimmering with unshed tears, their sheen accented by just a hint of red along the rims. God, he looks so pretty like this, you thought, almost feeling a tinge of jealousy.
“P-please don’t stop,”
Tate stuttered pitifully. He was so hard that he was practically splitting his jeans as you resumed your grinding back and forth on his erection. He panted your name into the crook of your neck, breath hot and ragged against your bare skin.
You dragged your nails down his neck and grasped at his shoulders. Dipping your head downward, you nipped gently at the skin on his collarbone. He gasped; a soft exhale of air. You smirked against his neck and did it again, enjoying the little whimpers that you pulled from his lips.
“Fuck, you feel so good-”
You responded by pressing your breasts against his sternum and was rewarded with another breathy moan. In return, Tate bucked his hips upward and found a spot that made you cry out. The fabric of your underwear rubbed against your clit, and you could feel your panties dampening with arousal, seeping through the pair of tights you were wearing.
His mind was a euphoric haze; a sensory overload as he felt a multitude of sensations all at once: your tongue and teeth grazing his skin, your tits bouncing up and down his chest, the delicious heat radiating from your pussy as the two of you moved in sync. He was perilously close; the stickiness in his boxers was a clear indication that at any second he was going cream his pants.
“Nnghh- Oh shit. shitshitshit I think I’m gonna-” Tate groaned, humping against you without abandon. Smiling softly, you swiped away the tears from his face with your thumb.
“It’s okay, Tate. Let go.”
That was all the further encouragement Tate needed. Fumbling clumsily with the zipper, he yanked open his fly and jerked down his boxers to allow his throbbing cock to spring free.
He came with a hoarse shout, spurting out milky white rivulets of release. You watched in awe, at the sticky mess splattered across his abdomen. You had made that happen. It felt kind of surreal.
“Wow.. that was.. intense.” You marveled. Tate smiled up at you, chest heaving and starry-eyed. He pulled you close and kissed the side of your cheek.
“Yeah,”
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A/N: thank you for reading! english is not my first language, if you spot any grammatical / spelling errors, please do not hesitate to let me know :)
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tagging: @slvt4jamesmarch @kaismanwich @maddaline @evpeters87 @lacucarachapisser @loveletter-inblood @howtobesasha
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© fear-is-truth 2024 — do not plagiarise, modify, translate my work, or i will be under your bed
☉☾☾☾
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kaislittlelamb · 5 months
Note
i need a sadistic daddy Tate smut 🤩
tate langdon x fem!reader nsfw headcanons
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Warning ⚠️: NSFW! sex, oral sex, choking, CNC, etc.
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Sadistic (Daddy) Tate:
• he’s very possessive of you.
• like if any other ghost in the house bats an eye at you, he’ll bend you over and fuck you senseless just to make it clear that you’re his.
• “no one else can make you feel this good. no. one.” he’d growl out between sharp thrusts.
• he’ll leave hickies all over your neck and body for everyone to see (and also in places they can’t see) to mark his territory. he thinks they look so pretty on you.
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• has an obsession with fucking you. he’s addicted to how good it feels to be inside of you.
• trying to sleep? doesn’t matter. trying to study? doesn’t matter. trying to cook? doesn’t matter. he’ll force your thighs open whether you want it or not.
• “aww you don’t want this? then why’s your pretty little pussy dripping for me?”
• he gets a little too rough sometimes and he loses control. he’s got some pent up anger that becomes increasingly apparent from the way he chokes you as if he’s trying to break your neck. or the way he leaves purple hand prints on your ass. or maybe it’s the way he fucks your sore cunt relentlessly and you’re bedridden for days.
• bruises accompany the hickies he leaves on your skin.
• will make you suck him off till your jaw aches. loves the way your pretty lips wrap around his swollen cock.
(pov: tate watching as you suck him off in his latex suit)
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• “c’mon baby, do it one more time. don’t you wanna make daddy feel good?”
• will call up your father while he’s fucking you just to torment him with your screams that can be heard through the phone.
• “hey mr. y/l/n, you’d better hurry and get home. your daughters losing her innocence and fuck- she feels sooo good.”
• would finish inside of you as soon as your father arrives to the scene. the look of horror on his face would drive tate to his climax.
• he doesn’t pull out of course.
• needless to say, he’s not allowed back in your house (as if that’s going to stop him).
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Thank you for the request!
(Tate is literally the “she calls me daddy too” meme.)
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hanxku · 1 year
Text
okay hear me out again.
needy and angry tate langdon. quick fucking in a corner of the house.
"Tate...wait.. my dad is in the next roo-....gh.." you try to articulate as tate speed up his wild thrusts, his warm breath on your neck and his shaky whimpers caressing your ears. "I'm sorry... i'm sorry i need...i need it...". you put a hand on your mouth, squeezed between the wall under the stairs and tates aroused body. he was so good. he was so fucking good. you loved it so much when tate was angry. he totally let himself go and always count on you to help him. he pulls his head back slightly to press his forehead against yours, moaning in pleasure as quietly as possible. "your dad...he told me i was afraid...of rejection..." he whispers between two moans, his hands squeezing your waist. "I think he's right..." you answer, panting, your lips sticked to his. He raises his head, his dark eyes half hidden by his fluffy blond hair, staring at you as he pound you more and more. "you'll never... reject me, right ?" you grabbed his hair and kissed him wildly, stifling one of his moans. "if i dare to do it one day... i allow you to kill me" you whisper weakly against his lips, his eyes locked on yours, feeling the orgasm coming for you two. tate let out a groan as he cums with you, his seed filling your shivering body. "...then...you are warned." he says finally, breathless, holding you tightly as he catches his breath while you come back to your senses, his lips caressing your right ear with simple words . "never leave me. ever."
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demetris-cocksleeve · 6 months
Text
(A/n: And we're live! Sorry for the wait😘)
Word Count: 1,116
Summary- Good boyfriends don't let their girlfriends stay scared... And Tate's a damn good boyfriend...
Warnings: Public Indecency, Nipple Play, Fingering, Biting
Age Rating: 18+ Minors DNI
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Tate Langdon x Fem! Reader: Kinktober Day 4- Nipple Play + Fingering
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Another cheap jumpscare has you burying your face in the soft fabric of Tate's jumper. You huff out indignantly as he quietly chuckles at your misery. His arm tightens around you as he turns to look at you- eyes waiting until he fully faces you to move from the screen.
"You good?" He asks with a smirk.
You glare at him with a pout, any real heat vacant from your gaze. "Out of all things, why a horror movie?"
Another scream from the movie has you flinching into him and drags more silent laughter from the blonde.
You dig your elbow into his side as a small act of retribution.
"Wha- ow!" Tate whisper-yells, trying to bend his torso out of your reach.
"It's Halloween, spooky time," he pinches your thigh, "and you expected anything other than horror?~"
"As if you don't regularly watch horror movies no matter the time of the year."
"I-" A grin breaks across his face. "Fair enough, babe. Fair enough."
He wraps his arm back around your shoulders, tugging you closer. Tate leans down to whisper: "If you're too scared, I can distract you if you want~" He lightly nips at your neck before following it with a kiss.
"In the theater? Really?" You tease. "Have you no shame?~" Despite your words, you tilt your head to the side, baring your neck for him.
"Nope," he mumbles, peppering a mix of pecks and open mouth kisses along the soft skin, "and I know you don't either…"
You can feel his smile as you laugh. The screams of other movie goers drowning the sound out. "Got me there~"
You pull him into a kiss as the killer catches one of the other horny characters. 'Ironic,' you think as Tate's hand trails down to slip under the hem of your sweater. The cool of his fingers makes you suck in a gasp as they dance across your skin; they trace up and up until they reach your bra. Without breaking the kiss, Tate pulls the edge down so your breasts can spill over the top. You have to bite back a moan when he runs a thumb against your hardened nipple.
Tate smiles into the kiss as he kneads your breasts. "So sensitive~"
Your head drops forward to rest of his shoulder when Tate rolls a nipple between his finger, the gentle pain from the twist shoots straight to your core and slicks your already pulsing cunt.
"Oh my god…" you huff out, struggling to keep yourself at a whisper. The movie's loud, probably loud enough to cover most normal volume noises, but you're not taking the chance.
"I'm your god, huh?" Tate teases as his hand slips from your tit in favor of slipping down to the hem of your jeans.
You let out a short, breathy laugh. "That's not what I meant and you know it~"
He fiddles with the button on your pants, toying with it before finally undoing it. "Do I though?"
He bullies his hand into your underwear before plunging two fingers into your tight pussy. Your face drops into a silent moan as his fingers start to pump in and out of you, the heel of his hand rubbing deliciously against your clit with each stroke.
With your head still on his shoulder, Tate turns back to watch the rest of the movie. His fingers curl just right and it has you biting the inside of your cheek. Your practically panting against his neck as he continues to finger fuck you in the theater. Thank god it's a rated R movie; you would never recover from the embarrassment if you were caught doing this where kids were allowed.
The thought doesn't stick long, not when Tate adds a third finger to the mix. You can't hold back the whimper this time, so you do your best to muffle it into his jumper. You can see the shit eating grin on his face in your peripheral.
"Of course you're enjoying this…" you pant out. He glances at you.
"Why wouldn't I?" His grin widens. "It's a great movie paired with the best pussy. What's not to enjoy?~"
He uses his thumb to rough up your clit, the intense friction almost makes you scream. The only thing keeping you quiet is the finger you're biting down on.
You can feel yourself getting closer to release. Every curl of his fingers, every tweak to your clit sending electric fire through your veins. You're burning up.
You're burning up, but you're not nearly hot enough. You need more. You can't even tell what's going on on the screen. All you can hear is the quiet breathing from Tate. All you can see is how pretty the low light shines on his eyes. He's all you can taste, the lingering flavor of the salty popcorn mixing with something that is just so uniquely Tate. Tate. Tate. Tate.
He takes over your senses and it plays like a mantra in your mind as you edge closer and closer to cumming.
"Tate…" you moan into his neck as your hand grips the sleeve of his sweater. "I'm close, please don't stop~"
He doesn't say anything, but his fingers start to work you with more vigor. The soft squelch of your soaked cunt is drowned out by the obnoxiously loud music and the screams as more people get butchered in the movie; you could swear it's the only sound in the room as it echoes in your ears.
You're so close. So, so immeasurably close.
"Mmmh- Ah~" your breath stutters when his fingers graze that special spot. The pads of his fingers rubbing against that spongy tissue has your eyes rolling back as you finally tip over the edge.
You free fall into pleasure; the waves of euphoria crashing over you, threatening to drown you in bliss.
You have to bite down on Tate's shoulder to keep from screaming out. Despite his pained groan, his fingers never falter as they ride you through your orgasm.
Your eyes stay shut for a while as you gather yourself.
"Fucking hell baby-" Tate breathes as he takes in your face, still glowing with a pist orgasmic haze. "So fucking beautiful-"
His fingers slip from you, making you whine out as the empty feeling consumes you. "So fucking pretty, you know that? Always so pretty for me…"
He brings his hand up to clean your juices off his digits. Your face burns as you watch him lick and suck your cum off of his fingers. "Taste amazing too~"
The lights blind you as they suddenly come on.
Or... not so suddenly, you note as you watch the credits finish rolling.
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Text
Sweetheart; Tate Langdon x Fem!Reader
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Pairing: Tate Langdon x fem!Reader
Summary: You come home after a weekend away and Tate's so glad you're back. 
Warnings: Sub!Tate, Dom!Fem!Reader, grinding but no actual penetration, one use of the word "mommy", kind of a handjob but not really (?), let me know if I missed anything! :)
Words: 1.6K
⋆♡⋆˚₊‧*☆⋆♡⋆☆*‧₊˚⋆♡⋆˚₊‧*☆⋆♡⋆☆*‧₊˚⋆♡⋆
You stumble up the stairs of the house, you haven't been home for the past couple of days, you missed Tate, sure, but you wanted to stay over at a friend's house for a sleepover. You adore Tate, but you also want a social life, even if Tate disagrees with that.
You sigh softly as you stand in the doorframe, the door is ajar and you can see into the room partially. You see the blanket hastily hanging off the side of the bed, it's flat on the bed then there is a rise under the blankets, and you can see someone is lying on your bed. The figure isn't moving, implying they're asleep but you know a stranger isn't gonna just break into your house to take a little nap, you already know who it is.
"Tate....?"
You call out softly, your voice comes out almost no louder than a whisper but you can tell he heard based on his slight movement, his supposedly sleeping figure shifts slightly under the blankets. You know he isn't asleep, why would a ghost need to sleep?
You walk up to the bed, and place your hand on the left side. Tate's lying silently on his side, he won't turn around to look at you.
"Tate?"
You call out again, this time a bit louder and clearer. You're met with Tate turning around to look up at you, his eyes are watery and red, and he has tears rolling down his cheeks slowly, covering the previous and now slightly dry tear stains. His cheeks and nose are rosy and red, your heart breaks slightly at the sight.
"Oh, sweetie..."
Tate leans into your touch as you reach out and graze his cheek softly with the pads of your fingers while you try to talk to him despite his deviated state.
"You were gone for so long... I was worried you had left me."
The boy stammers to the end of his sentence as he pulls himself up so he can sit. Tate looks up at you in sadness with a glint of relief in his eyes. Relief that you haven't left him, relief that you came back, back to him.
"I would never leave you, Tate... You know that."
You reply with a small but reassuring smile. You slowly sit on top of the blanket on your bed, Tate completely shifts his body over to face you. He reaches his hand out to grasp your own lightly.
"Stay here, in bed."
Tate requests as he stares up at you with a glimmer of hope plastered on his face, his doe eyes staring up at you – you chuckle under your breath.
"But, I have to unpack." 
You tease as you pull your hand away slightly and try to hide your slight smile, finding his desperation strangely endearing.
"No-! Stay..."
Tate demands as he pulls your hand back, his grasp on your hand is tight but not to the point of pain. His voice was laced with desperation. He looks up at you, his eyes glossing over.
"Of course."
You smile lovingly as you place your free hand on the side of his face, you lean forward to place a kiss on his forehead gently.
As you pull away Tate stares at you lovingly. He smiles as he places his hand on your hip, he slowly moves his hand under your shirt and rests his hand on the skin of your waist, tracing light shapes with his fingertips.
You place your hand behind his neck to pull him into a soft kiss, and in an instant, he kisses back in a needy manner. You move your hand up his neck and into his hair.
Tate gasps softly as his hand grips your waist and you tug on his soft, curly hair gently. You let go of his hair and pull away from the kiss, Tate looks at you in confusion and eagerness.
You place your hand on his shoulder to push him from lying on his side to lying on his back. you kneel on the bed and move yourself to straddle his waist, Tate stares up at me with a small smile on his face. you slowly pull his shirt up and off, you lean forward to kiss him quickly before pulling away and peppering kisses from his jaw, down to his collarbone, your lipstick leaves small but noticeable stains on his skin. The kisses and marks you leave are met with small whines and groans from the man below me.
"I'm sorry I was gone for so long, sweetheart..."
you whisper as Tate props himself up on his elbows, his curly blonde hair now somewhat disheveled.
"Then show me how sorry you are."
Tate states, a smirk plastered on his face, you chuckle softly at his request.
"Oh, don't get cocky now. I might not."
you state as you put your hand on his chest and push him back down, his head hitting the soft pillows.
you trace your nails lightly down his torso, goosebumps quickly following your trail. Tate's breath comes out shakily and unsteady.
"...please..."
Tate breathes out, barely above a whisper. you look down at him and smile sadistically.
"What did you say, dear? I couldn't hear it."
you grin as you draw a slow line from his stomach to the waistline of his pants with your fingertips, earning a groan from the man below me.
When he doesn't answer and instead just whines in response you hook two of your fingers on the waistband of his pants, pulling them back ever so slightly but only to snap the waistband against his waist as Tate gasps in response.
"Sweetheart, I can't give you what you want unless you ask."
you tease as you feel his muscles tense. Tate stares up at me with doe eyes as he's acting as though he has too much pride to beg for what he wants, but you know him better than to believe that, he just wants me to give him what he wants without him having to do anything.
you move down from his waist to be straddling his hips as he stares up at me with a hopeful gaze, you would've thought he wouldn't be so naïve to think I'd just fuck him without him following a simple order.
you lean in closer, your lips only a few inches away from Tate's, so close yet so far. Just as it seems as though I'm about to kiss him you move your face away from his and instead begin kissing and biting his neck gently, leaving a trail of marks and hickeys on his neck to his jaw.
As you do so the man beneath me lets out sighs and breaths of relief as I'm finally giving him at least part of what he wants.
you smirk slightly as you get an idea, you begin gently grinding your hips against his, giving him the bare minimum friction you can as there are still layers of clothing between the two of us.
you grind your hips against his agonizingly slow as he begins letting out chocked-out whimpers, you can feel the vibrations from the noises he makes in his throat as you continue trailing kisses along his soft skin.
However, Tate's been so needy all weekend, practically destroyed at the fact that you've been away for a few days and now that he finally has you, you barely give him any friction, how cruel.
Tate whines pathetically as he tries to buck his hips up against yours needily, desperate for just a little more friction to relieve himself of the want he's had for you all weekend when he hasn't been able to do anything about it. It's almost cute, how much he aches for your touch.
You sigh as you move your hips up, just out of reach of his body, rendering his desperate movements useless as you've completely taken away any friction he's had due to him being too needy for more. Tate's desperate pleas for you to give him just a bit more only fall upon deaf ears as you have no intention of giving him anything just yet.
Tate groans softly as you run your hands down his waist, resting your left hand on his hip while your right hand slowly makes its way into his pants, tracing gentle, slow circles around the tip of his already hard cock, causing the man to moan before biting his lip to try and keep quiet. God, it's so easy to get him riled up for you.
He moans and whimpers while trying to stop himself from rutting against your hand as his hands grip the bedsheets to try and keep at least a little bit of control over his body.
"What's wrong, baby?"
You ask in a teasing and sadistic tone as you continue to tease his tip while kissing and biting his neck tenderly. Your words only cause mumbling pleas to fall from Tate's mouth, although they're all too mumbled and rushed to fully hear what he's begging for in specifics.
"I need to go unpack."
Interrupting his begging while you move your hand out of his pants, moving to be sitting up with your knees on either side of his hips, you're so close to him but too far away for him to touch you the way he so badly wants to.
Just as you're about to get up you feel Tate's hands gripping your thighs, pulling you back down onto him as you're now sitting on his lap straddling his hips once again, you can feel how hard.
Tate looks up at you with teary puppy eyes as he bats his lashes, his cheeks still have a pink tint to them.
"Please, mommy... Touch me?"
(I've been in a creative rut lately, and this has been in my drafts for months now, and even though I hate it I decided to edit and post it, sorry its not that good. I might to a PT2 but Idk yet <3)
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lees-bones · 1 year
Text
COLLEAGUES
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Luke Cooper x F!Reader
Summary: You and Luke always tried to convince yourselves that you hated each other, but once you both come to your senses.. things heat up..
Warnings: SMUT!!
a/n: the office is and has been one of my fav shows so I'm really happy to be able to write about it 🤭, i made luke really sweet to the reader bc I can
wc: 3938
-
"You think they did it?" Meredith took another bite of her sandwich, looking over at you and Luke by the shelves in the annex. Everyone sat in the break room, eating their lunch.
Angela scoffed at the question, rolling her eyes and picking at her salad. There were many hums across the room.
"Totally! Do you see the way he looks at her butt?"
"Kevin!" They all groan, looking away from the man. He threw his hands up, ready to defend himself.
"They totally have. I mean, have you seen the way they look at each other?" Phyllis ignores the man next to her, looking back at you two.
"The way who looks at who?" Michael walks in, putting his hands in his pockets. He had a smile on his face, ready to hear the drama.
"No one!" Pam quickly declines, shaking her head and looking back down at her food. She always knew that you had to stop Michael before he could start.
"If one of you doesn't tell me, I will start screaming." He threatens, giving a look to everyone.
"Y/N and Luke." Phyllis answers fast, not wanting to deal with her managers ridiculous antics. All of the employees sighed once they saw Michael's face light up. "Michael please don't.."
"I hired them! Matchmaker!" He points his thumbs to himself, smiling wide and looking at the camera.
"Michael, they're not together. It's just gossip." Pam tries to explain, looking at her husband to try and back her up.
"Yeah, it's just talk." Jim agrees, nodding his head.
Michael turns his head around, looking at the two together. They stood close together, the personal space rule being broken. You both were looking through files, occasionally talking or mumbling something none of the others could hear.
"Look at them, though! They're in kissing distance!" He pointed at them, many of the others hissing at him to put his finger away because of how obvious it was. He quickly shushed them, rolling his eyes.
"Michael, just please don't make this a big deal."
-
"Hey, Y/N." You jumped slightly as you heard your bosses voice beside your ear. You looked to your right, Michael Scott's face staring back at you.
"Yes, Michael?" You sighed, leaning back in your chair. Your desk was out in the main area, but near the back. There had been an extra desk by Creed (despite the crazy amount of protest by you and the others) and Michael decided that it was fine for you since no one was there. Thankfully, Creed was always too busy by writing down his thoughts on Google Docs and eating mung beans to pay enough attention to you.
"So," He dragged out the vowel, moving up to lean against your desk. He looked at the camera, his lips puckered then back at you. You took a quick glance at the camera lens as well, confused about what this whole situation was about.
"You and Luke, huh?" He smirked, nudging his shoulder forward into the air. You furrowed your eyebrows, crossing your arms against your chest.
"What about me and Luke?" You ask, genuinely confused on what he was questioning. He sighed, sitting up slightly.
"You know.." He looked at the wall, trying to think of the right words. "You two are together." He said, more as a statement than a question.
"What?" You laughed. "No. No, definitely not." You shook your head, chuckles escaping your lips. You sat up, leaning forward on your elbows that rested on your arm chairs.
"Wha.. What?" He freezes, staring at you.
"Did you think that we were.. a thing?" Your face showed your honesty, your eyes wandering around the rest of the room. The others that worked in the room were watching your conversation, only some looking away when you made eye contact with them. "You guys thought that I would date him?" You get up from your chair, looking around.
"I mean.. we see the way you guys look at each other." Phyllis defends, playing with her pen. "That's how Bob and I looked at each other before we were together." She smiled, looking at Stanley who rolled his eyes.
"What? We hate each other. Don't you see how annoying he is? He can't even do his job!" Your arms were  accentuating your disbelief.
"Hey! That's my nephew!" Michael pointed at you, but stood back a little when he mumbled, "Yeah.. I guess you're right. But, hey!" His voice lowered again.
"She is right, Michael. Luke hasn't done anything we've asked of him." Dwight gets up and walks behind him. "Every time we ask him to send something to a client or the post office, he says he'll do it later and we end up finding it in the trunk of his car. Which is way too slow, by the way." He looks at the camera, his hands on his hips. "You want a fast car if you're going to try and catch an animal. The tactic is.."
"Dwight. Dwight!" Michael waves him off, watching you walk off into the kitchen. "Great job, Dwight!"
"You were the one that interrogated her!" He exclaims, throwing his hands up to his sides.
"Why don't we just leave it alone? Let them just work?" Jim suggests, leaning back in his chair and pointing at them with the pen that was in his hand.
Michael scoffed and Dwight made the same sound right after his boss did.
"Yeah, right, Jim. Let two assistants live their own lives and do their own work." He put his hands on his hips and made a face at the camera.
"Yes, do that." Jim mumbled to the camera, shaking his head and looking back at the paper on his desk.
-
"Hey, Y/N/N." Luke walked into the kitchen through the annex door, smirking at you.
"Don't call me that." You reply sharply, pouring your water into the white mug on the counter.
It was true that you hated Luke Cooper.. at least that was what you told yourself. You weren't as new as him, having been here for around a year. You've gotten used to Michael's antics and the crazy stuff that goes down at the office, but you weren't expecting a new addition any time soon. Especially when you found out it was your bosses nephew.
You should've known that he was going to be trouble.
"Why not, Y/N/N?" He came up beside you, resting his frame against the counter that you were facing towards. His irritating smirk overtook your mind, aggravating you even more.
"What do you want, Luke? Don't you have a job to do?" You gave him a look and walked around him to put the pitcher away and back into the fridge. Before you could make your way back, you stood in front if Luke who took your mug in his hands.
"Nope. But thanks for the drink, babe!" He smiles at you and sends you a wink, taking a sip of your water and walking back into the annex.
You stood still for a moment, before letting out an annoyed groan and running your hands through your hair. You walked fast towards the door that lead outside, your pace showing your irritation.
"Hey, what's wrong?" Pam called out, but you were already out the door.
Dwight looked towards the camera, "Lovers quarrel."
-
"Luke? Wha.. Why do people keep asking me about him?" You ask the camera crew, standing outside. The sun was shining right in tour eyes, your hand trying to cover the brightness. You sigh, looking around to make sure no one was around to talk to the camera.
"He gets on my last nerve. He was hired just because Michael wanted to see his nephew for the first time in 15 years. We didn't need another person." You shook your head. "I was doing all the work before, but now that there's two of us, both of us should be splitting it up; I shouldn't being doing the work for two people." You held up your fingers, thrusting them towards the camera lens, making sure they knew how mad you were.
-
"Y/N? She's fine, I guess." Luke sat at his chair in the annex, leaning back and letting his hands link together lazily in front of him.
"She says that you purposely annoy her."
Luke laughs, throwing his head back. "Of course she says that. She also says she hates me, but we all know that's not true. She only says that because I don't do any work. And get the coffee orders wrong... And steal a lot of her stuff." He pauses for a moment before shrugging his shoulders.
"But, I mean, yeah, she's fine, I guess."
-
You let out a heavy exhale as you sat at the little table in the kitchen, picking at your food. You had a book to your right, but it was long forgotten once you started to zone out.
"Hey, Y/N!" You look up once you hear Pams cheery voice. You smile at her, watching her pour some coffee for herself.
"Hey, Pam." You end up shutting the book completely as she walks over and sits near you. "What's up?" You pick up a grape with your fork and eat it.
"Uh, I wanted to apologize for everyone in the office. I know everyone's been acting weird around you and Luke, it's ridiculous." She starts to explain.
"It is! I don't understand what's going on? Why does everyone think we're together?" You ask on rapid fire, desperately trying to figure out what was happening around the office. Your eyes showed your confusion, Pam could see and sense it.
"You know how much this office loves drama," she sends a look your way, you nodding in agreement. "And I'm sorry you had to be the main subject of it. If it makes you feel any better, Jim and I totally believe you, so you have two of us on your side." She consoles, sending a soft smile your way. Your mood brightens a little, sending one back.
As soon as you opened your mouth to thank her, the door squeaked open again. "Oh, hey!" Michaels voice echoed off the walls of the small room. The both of you sighed, deciding to look away from the man and down at the table or at each other. "Girls talk! What're we talking about?" He quickly walks over and sits across from you with a wide smile on his face. The camera followed right after him (without the knowledge of you, it was recording the whole other conversation with Pam as well).
"Michael.." Pam started, but he cut her off.
"Come on, tell me!" He put his hands down on the table. "Oh, I know." He sends a smirk to the camera then at you. "This is about you and my nephew!" You sigh at his words, debating your next move. "Okay, listen, since you are dating a Scott relative, I need to give you the run down, young lady." He tries to sound series, but ends up laughing and glancing at the camera again. "You are definitely Luke's type. I mean, I can only imagine the sex-"
"Michael." Pam cuts him off, watching you walk away and out of the room.
"What? I didn't say anything?" He defends himself, now watching Pam walk out as well.
"Guess they aren't getting any."
-
"Luke, can I talk to you?" Michael asks, putting his hands on his hips. Luke was standing by your desk, clearly bothering you. You had a certain look on your face, showing your indignation.
He looks over at his uncle, taking a quick glance at you before getting up and grudgingly walking towards him. Michael leaned out of the way and his open palm pointing towards his office. Luke gives him a glare, but walks in and lazily takes a seat in the chair across from the desk.
"So, my dear nephew," Michael sits down in his chair, fixing his tie so it didn't sit on his desk. He folds his arms on the dark wood. He stares at him for a while with a smile on his face, taking quick looks at the camera.
"What?" Luke snaps, his patience running thin. If he was being honest, he would rather be annoying you by your desk then be talking to his uncle.
"So.. I heard from the grapevine that you and little ol' Y/N were together." He says, tapping his fingers on the desk.
"What? We're not together. Who told you that?" He shook his head, sitting up slightly. He did hear about all the talk around the office, but he pretended he didn't. He wasn't really sure how to react to it. He never thought of you in a way more than a frenemy. He always knew you were beautiful as soon as he walked through the office door, but he never told you that. He didn't really think much of his feelings towards you, any time he saw you he knew that he had to bother you some way. Maybe it was just his instinct, but maybe it was because it was his only way of trying to talk to you.
"I, well, uh.." Michael smacked his lips, looking off into the distance, grimacing. He rested his hand on his lips, trying to think of something.
-
"I am a master at improv. I've took it for years, I know what I'm doing." Michael sassed at the camera."
-
"Well.. Luke! Wait!" He stood up from his chair as he watched his nephew walk out of the room. Ever the drama queen, Luke ran into the annex, going straight for the break room. He groaned, rubbing his face with his hands. He say down at one of the empty chairs, putting his head in his hands.
Did he have feelings for you? The more he thought about it the more scared he got. He annoyed you because he never truly knew how to talk to you. He didn't have a problem giving people attitude, everyone knew that. But something about you made him nervous. There was no way you could like him back now.
"You okay?" His head shot up from his hands, looking at you. You stood there, leaning against the doorframe. Your question was genuine, something that surprised Luke.
"Uh, yeah. Just a little.. confused?" He tried to explain, but couldn't find the right words. He watched you walk over to him, pulling out the chair across from him and sitting down. The camera outside of the room zoomed in and out from both of you.
You let out a long sigh. "I know that we never really got off on the wrong foot. I guess I was just upset that Michael thought that I wasn't very good at my job since he had to hire another assistant to do the same job as me." You rung your hands together, a nervous habit Luke seemed to pick up on. "If I'm being honest.. I'm sorry that I treated you like that. I never meant to be rude to you, especially with the fact you're my bosses nephew." You both let out a light chuckle. You took another deep breath, "But I never really thought of you in another way than the man that was hired by his uncle." You admitted. "I never meant to cause you any harm, truly. But I never had such strong feelings for someone before." You confessed, looking at your hands, avoiding his stare. "I always tried to convince myself that I hated you, but it was never really true. At least not until now. I know you can be a pain in the ass since you never do your job," You both laugh again, making eyes contact. "But if I don't tell you now, then I probably never will." You go to leave, but you felt his hand on yours, stopping you.
Luke looked at your eyes, noticing all of the emotions in them. "I never considered it until now. I mean, I knew you were pretty, but the thought of us never crossed my mind before today. And I've realized how happy it makes me. And I know I'm an asshole and I'm mean, but I never meant to hurt you if I did. If I'm being honest with you, you mean more to me than any of these asshats in this office." You let out a chuckle, squeezing his hand.
"Can I do something stupid?"
"Depends what you mean."
Luke leaned across the table, cupping your cheek with his hand. He hesitated for a moment, before pressing his lips against yours. You didn't waste a second to kiss back, your hand reaching back to cup the back of his head and tug at his curls.
Once you break away for air, you're both smiling. It was almost as if you were knew what you wanted as you both got up from your seats and connecting your lips again. He took your hips in his hands leading you out of the room and pushing you into an empty closet. He slammed the door behind you, never taking his lips off of yours. His tongue swiped over your bottom lip, your mouth immediately granting him access.
"You're so beautiful." Luke whispered against your lips, making you smile. He pressed his lips against yours again, fumbling for the hem of your shirt. You broke apart and lifted your arms up to help him take it off. He threw it on the floor, leaning down to kiss your neck. His hair tickled you, but his cold hands on your body made you shiver. His hand cupped your bra covered breast, kneading the skin. You quietly moaned, arching your back in his hand. He sucked on the skin, biting and licking at it to leave a deep mark.
"Luke," You breathe out, your hands trying to work on his belt and the buttons on his shirt. He undid his tie, his lips hovering over yours. You helped him throw his shirt on the floor, both of your lips only ever breaking apart to take in an inhale of air.
It wasn't exactly necessary to rid both of yourself of your clothing, but you both needed it. Neither of you could deny it.
You helped him out of his pants and vice versa. His fingers grazed over your panties, stimulating your clit through the damp fabric. He pulled them down, bringing his fingers back and groaning. "You're so fucking wet." His voice sounded deeper in your ear, making you shiver. Your hands braced yourself on his shoulders, occasionally digging your nails into his soft skin.
He pushed a finger inside you, your head leaning against the wall behind you and your mouth opening in pleasure. He added another finger, curling them and letting out a strangled breath every time you moaned.
When he pulled away, you sounded in protest, but quickly shut your mouth when you felt his tip against you, scared to be too loud.
Once he pushed inside, you both groaned, your nails carving crescent moons into his shoulders. His beautiful brown eyes pierced into yours, your left hand moving up to brush into the nape of his hair. He leaned down to kiss you, quickly adding his tongue. His groan was muffled by your lips when you tugged at his curls.
His hand reached down to grab your thigh and hooking it around his hip. It have him a better angle, thrusting harder inside you, pace becoming faster as you both felt knots form in your stomachs.
"God, Y/N. You feel so- fuck- good." He whimpered against your lips, both of your chests heaving together. You felt his hand move up your body, squeezing your boob. His thumb and forefinger twisted your nipple, your mouth opening in a silent plea. Your body erupts in chills when his cold hand moved down your body again to press against your clit.
"Fuck- Luke!" You moan, your mouth not being able to stop your sounds. He groaned again, your name rolling off his tongue. His nails scratched into the skin on your thigh, knowing it would leave marks. "I'm gonna cum." You almost want to scream it, your back arching, basking in the amount of pleasure you were feeling.
"Me too. Cum for me Y/N." His thumb pressed harder on your clit, rubbing rougher circles. You clenched, the knot inside you breaking. You came with a shout, your hand immediately reaching up to cup your mouth to silence it.
Luke came shortly after with another groan of your name, his face hiding in your neck. His nose rubbed against the newly formed hickey on your skin. You both breathed heavily, your chests touching while you tried to catch your breath.
"I really like you, Luke." You whisper, the hand that was still in his hair was twisting his curls with your fingers. "I don't want this to be a passing thing." You confess, looking at the closet wall.
You felt him move, looking up at him. He had a smile on his face, leaning down to kiss you. "I really like you too. I'd also really like it if you would let me take you out on a date." He mumbled, his thumbs rubbing your cheekbones. You both smiled wide, your kiss telling him you accepted.
Once you both were done, you put your clothes back on and you tried to fix your hair with the help of Luke's compliments. Luke didn't even try to hide anything, his already wrinkly shirt even worse than usual, as well as his unbrushed hair.
He opened the door, letting you walk out in front of him. He closed the door behind him, smacking your ass, then walking away with a smirk. He sent you a wink, opening the door to the kitchen, knowing you'd have to follow him out to your desk either way.
Your face felt hot as you followed his steps, watching him pour a drink in his mug. He leaned his back against the counter, one hand resting on the hard surface. He watched you from behind the mug, noticing the way you freeze when you look out the window of the door that leads out into the main office.
Everyone stood outside of the door, looking into the small room. Kevin and Meredith had a smirk on his face, Angela the opposite, others with suggestive expressions.
"Good luck out there, babe." He teased, slapping your ass again, which you quickly glared at him for. He sent another wink your way, before going back into the annex to sit at his desk.
You looked back at the door, taking a deep breath trying to compose yourself. You knew that you were about to be bombarded with questions and statements.
You took quick steps towards it, twisting the doorknob, attempting to move the door open, the others moving out of the way. You headed straight for your desk, taking a seat and picking up your pen and looking between your computer and the papers.
"I called it!"
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sadgirlbaby · 1 year
Text
THE RUBBER MAN SUIT - tate langdon x fem!reader (smut)
(author’s recommendation: play this song while reading this)
CW: explicit sexual speaking, dirty talk, cussing (a bit), unprotected sex, p in v penetration, cumming
SUMMARY: (tate is a ghost whom was haunting your house. he was the only one beyond moira that wanted to show himself to you since you first arrived there. you and tate became friends since that time and often spent time together). you couldn't find tate anywhere so you checked in the basement but you surprisingly found him wearing a weird but sexy black rubber suit.
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you were peacefully doing your homework but you knew that tate did not want you to go to school as he wanted you to stay with him. you were extremly trying to focus on studying but then you remembered you hadn't seen tate for a while.
"tate?" you asked while looking around.
you didn't receive anything as respose so you stood up off your chair and went looking for him.
after a couple of minutes of wandering around your house you suddenly thought about the basement.
you went down the stairs and got into that lightless place of your apartment.
"tate? are you here?" you said standing in front of the staircase as you didn't want to dive into darkness.
"tate? I don't like this... please show up" you said as you were shaking in fear. you liked darkness but that was way too dark to walk in or even see.
you suddenly heard a plastic noise coming from the darkness and a small light suddenly turned on. your heart skipped a beat as you saw someone very creepy standing in front of you. they immediately unzipped the mask and showed their face, you sighed at the sight of your friend.
his slim figure was emphasized by the tight material that he was wearing - it was a black rubber suit that suited him perfectly.
"omg you scared me, tate... don't do that ever again" you said while catching your breath.
"did I scare you? god, I thought you weren't afraid of anything" he said back.
"I am not. I just got worried since I couldn't find you anywhere".
"where did you think that I could have be gone? I can't get out of this house" he reminded you.
"you're right, but... what the hell are you wearing?" you said.
"just a black suit I found here. how do I look?" he turned on himself making you stare at his suit.
"good... really good..." you were lost in thought as you did really think he looked good in that suit. you could not express yourself since he was way too fine.
it was weird for you thinking that your friend tate was hot. his fluffly and messy blond hair, his reddish lips, his deep and dark eyes, his hips and his sluttly little waist freaked you out.
"what are you looking at?" he smirked noticing your inattention. you instanlty blushed thinking about him finding out about your fantasies.
"nothing" you replied.
"hmm..." he groaned and got closer to you. you didn't lift your stare as you didn't want to see him gazing at you in that way.
"nothing?" he repeated.
you finally raised your head and laid your eyes on him. your lips felt like they were pulsing in eager of kissing his.
tate gazed at yours too and he looked like he was mesmerized by them. he suddenly got closer and slowly pushed your waist against his. he kissed you. you closed your eyes and he did too. your lips were connected and your tongues were already happily dancing together.
you wrapped your arms around his neck and softly pushed his head towards you to kiss him easily.
"was this "the nothing" you were thinking about?" he slowly left your lips and looked at you seductively.
you lowered your stare and he smirked.
"kiss me again" you said.
he didn't even hesitated and immediately pressed his lips on yours again. you could feel his desire of wanting more just by touching his lips. he started to breathe heavily and his grip on your hips got stronger.
"I want you." he affirmed.
"hm?" you mumbled while kissing.
"I need you." he said and instantly grabbed your shirt and pulled it off exposing your breasts still covered by your bra.
"what are you doin-?" you tried to speak but he immediately kissed you again to keep you quiet.
then he looked at you with heart shaped eyes and pulled your jeans off too. your panties came off with your jeans.
"this tight suit is gonna be hard to take off…" he said and unzipped it. he tried to be as quickly as he could and once he took it off, you noticed that he wasn't wearing any type of underwear under that black rubber suit.
he couldn't wait any longer so he picked you up and smashed you against the first wall he saw.
"hmm" he groaned as he entered his cock into you. you jolted and automatically clinged to him.
"oh- oh my god..." you panted.
"you're so fucking tight..." he groaned and kept thrusting harder and harder.
his cock was a little bit bigger than you expected so it was hurting but it was like a satisfying pain, an excitating pain.
your walls wrapped around his erection and he sped up his thrusts.
this action made both of you gasp. his labored breath against your neck could make you cum instantly.
"fuck..." he said. his thrusts were wild and intense.
he softly kissed your neck giving you goosebumps and you just kept moaning. you were staring at the ceiling with your half open mouth and your legs shaking.
he was a total mess as well and he couldn't hold it anymore.
you digged your nails into his back giving him scratches and marks everywhere and he was actually enjoying that. this was a motivation for him to thrust faster and harsher.
"you feel so good..." he moaned.
tate was sweating and also whining a bit. he was praising you and your unique body.
his skin got hotter and he knew that he was about to cum. the sight of you crying out his name made him even hornier. he sped up his thrusts one more time he couldn't get enough of it.
he kissed your neck leaving wet kisses all down your soft skin. this filled you with stomach butterflies and had you moaning louder.
"tate- I-I'm c-cum-ming..." you whined.
"cum for me baby" he said.
you let yourself release and made tate cum instantly. he refilled your walls with his seed and orgasmed loudly.
he slowly slowed down and then he kissed your lips. you french kissed, then tate put you down and you both got dressed again.
"wait" he said as he grabbed your wrist.
"you're beautifully beautiful" he smiled and stared at your eyes.
you let out a soft laugh and kissed his cheek as you dragged him out of the basement.
reminder: requests are always open and you can request about whoever you want. currently taking requests for ahs only!
note: guess who’s back! me ;)
taglist: @demxnicprxncess @kitwalkersgfff @weirdlanafan @imdeaddearnotstupid
-> click on the ask/request bottom or just comment if you want to be added in my taglist!
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jellyluvr · 9 months
Note
if your taking requests can you please do a smut with tate basically where he's fucking us in the skull makeup????? you can make the rest however I've just never seen anyone make a fic with him and the skull makeup
Eyeliner
- tate langdon x fem!reader ⋆ ˚。⋆୨୧˚
I love this sm!! Ty for the request!!! Also this is kind of gonna be tweaked to my liking, so sorry if it doesn't fit too perfectly. (It still has skull makeup) also I think pieces of Cain posted a fic similar to this one but I promise I'm not stealing! (I'm horrible at titles pls help)
Tw: both r nervousish??, handjob?, a little bit of dick sucking, tate being a whiny BITCH!! And some p n v
S: after finishing tates makeup, you start your own but tate can't help but feel aroused by your body. After asking for help, you help him.
*♪¸¸.•*¨·:*ೄ·*♪¸¸.•*¨·:*ೄ·
Tate leaned against the bathroom wall, letting you touch up his skull makeup. You used an eyeliner since it was all you had, but it worked quite well.
He stared down at you, his hands in his pockets as he stayed quiet, allowing you to finish. Of course he didn't know if you were, but every so often you'd take the brush away and stare for a second. He thought it was cute, the way your nose scrunched up as you contemplated if it was good or not. He even smiled a bit.
His dimples showed as he gave a toothy grin, snickering at you as you watched. "What?" You said, quite offended. He just giggled more shaking his head. "It's fine.. just finish." He encouraged, his little giggles eventually fading. He returned to his neutral self, you touching up his nose as you tried to work with the outline you had done earlier.
As you worked, tate looked in the mirror, the reflection showing your ass. He loved those short.. short.. shorts. The tiny little strap on them made him go crazy.. the drawstrings tightened to fit your figure.. fuck.
You two weren't dating. More of just friends with occasional flirting, but tate had a crush on you. A huge crush. As childish as it sounded, he really did take peeks at you. Even when you changed.. but this was the first time he got a good view.
"Done! You like it?" You smiled, stepping back as he watched your ass move slightly, a tent growing in his pants. He turned to the mirror, nodding with another smile. "I love it. Thank you.." he moved in, his large hands gripping at your waist as he pulled you in for a hug.
He really only did it so he could see your ass in the mirror again, but he really focused on how your chest pressed against him. Oh how he loved you didn't wear bras.
Your tiny little shirt made him froth from mouth. It made him go feral.. it made him want to do unspeakable things to you. And as you clung to him, he made a move. His hand creeped to your ass, cupping it as your eyes opened, widening before you looked up.
You felt his hand rub against your ass cheek lightly as he looked in the mirror, watching it. He didn't seem to notice you looking up at him, so you finally said something. "Tate?" He let out a hum, his hand moving up to your waist again. "Why were you touching me there?" You felt butterflies in your stomach as you pulled from the hug a little, his hands falling from your waist.
He looked into your eyes, "Sorry.. where did I touch you?" He said, acting clueless. You raised a brow, your arms going over your chest as you laughed a little. "What? You can't make that excuse." You responded as his eyes watched your mouth move. Jesus.. even your mouth was hot. "I like when you talk like that." His eyes went back up to your eyes with a smile.
"Tate, seriously.." you rolled your eyes, and in the matter of one second tate moved in, hugging you again. "Thanks for the makeup too." He rubbed his hand over your head, slightly messing your hair up. "Yeah.. okay.." you said, pulling back before looking in the mirror, resting your body on the counter as you picked up the eyeliner you used on tate. You began to try and copy the makeup, starting on your eyes.
Tate couldn't help but look at your ass, his eyes almost turning into hearts as he stared down. "Fuck.." he cussed under his breath, one hand going to his throbbing boner as he gave it the attention it craved. He did it subtly, but enough to make him choke down a few moans. You hadn't noticed, but as you looked over you caught on to something being wrong.
Tate was being weird. Usually he'd flirt as a joke, maybe brush your cheek but he had never touched you intimately like earlier. Neither had he been bold enough to rub himself. You looked over at him, watching as he looked to you. "It looks good.. don't worry." He gave a thumbs up, his right hand remaining on his crotch. You looked down at it, then back up at his face before nodding. "Yeah, okay.." you rolled your eyes, returning back to the makeup as you laughed under your breath, his eyes traveling every curve on your body. Every detail was engraved in his head for later. For when he'd touch himself for real.
"Y/n, Where'd you get those shorts?" He asked, moving up a little as his hand abandoned his now, very disappointed cock. "Uhh.. like old navy maybe? I dunno.. I'll check later." You responded, focusing on your makeup.
Tate moved to where he was aligned with your ass his hand going to the band as he pulled it up, looking at the tag uncaring.
You immediately reacted, turning your head back as you let out a gasp, moving tates hand away. You looked up at him, standing as he smiled mischievously. "I was just checking the tag.. calm down." He responded, raising his hands up in defense. He had seen your panties.. and oh boy.. he wasn't disappointed. Neither was his dick.
You turned back to the mirror, a little annoyed at him. But, you couldn't lie.. you had quite the crush yourself. Everything he was doing was weird.. but you did like his boldness. You didn't want to admit it, but it did turn you on. How cheeky and careless he was. He was so fun to hang out with.. and he was cute. It was a win win.
Tate looked down at your ass, looking at how tight the shorts were. Damn. You really did things to him. You made him melt.. and he did just the same for you.
Both of you liked each other, a classic romance scenario. But, tate was much bolder than you. You were the opposite of him when you guys were together. Tate had his past.. his dark doings haunting him. He had never been much of a talker, but you had brought him out of his shell.
You had changed him.
"Are you copying me?" He said, dramatically scowling as you laughed a little, looking at him through the mirror. "I did yours, it's my work." You continued as tate leaned on the counter with you, trying to appreciate for who you were without checking you out.
His eyes drifted to your tits a few times, but he managed to control himself. Sadly, his boner wasn't too happy with his good behavior. And soon, as he looked at you a few times, it became painful. Very.
The restraints of his pants were killing him, and his mind was invaded with thoughts of you... him touching you and you touching him. Tate needed to think of something gross, or get off.
He chose get off.
But, the problem was how? He wanted you to help him.. and he came up with the perfect solution as you messed with the eyeliner.
"You'd do anything to like.. help me, right?" He asked out of the blue, his face slightly shaded red. You turned to him, putting down the eyeliner with worry. "Yeah, what's up?" You leaned your head on your hand, looking at him as he shuffled uncomfortably. Actually asking for it made him really nervous.
"Well," he bit down on his tongue as he looked at you, your innocence killing him. "Just.." he sighed, his hand going in his hair as he tried to compose himself. "Don't think I'm weird, okay?" He looked at you with his chocolate brown eyes, seeming to be sincere. You nodded, smiling as you did so. You loved tate. He was your best friend.. your only friend. "Of course, tate." You confirmed, waiting for his supposed confession.
"I've got a boner." He said, his eyes moving from yours as his face turned red. You stared for a moment, almost laughing before realizing he was serious. "And you want me to help you?" You said, your body beginning to heat up. "Yes.. yes.. I'm sorry.. I shouldn't have asked." He said quickly, clearly a bit scared.
This was a little shocking from how bold he had been, but I guess he was just a weird guy overall.
"I can help... yeah." You responded, standing up as you felt a kick of confidence. Tate cleared his throat, looking down at his pants as you did the same. Before he could say anything more, your hand went to the zipper of his pants, undoing it. Tate felt a little surprised, but relieved that you were forward. He smiled to himself, watching as you pulled his dick through, finally letting his hard on free.
He let out a low groan as he watched, your eyes looking down at him before you put your hand around his shaft, looking up at him. He felt his face turn red as he let you suck on his tip, your fist moving up and down along him as you did so. "Fuck.." his head shot back as you did the bare minimum. You hadn't ever done this before, but this was definitely nice to watch. Your mouth went on him deeper, causing him to tug on your hair.
He looked so much hotter in that skull makeup..
You sucked a little harder, his face looking down at yours as he shoved himself farther in your throat, thrusting at a steady pace. "Oh god.." he groaned, pulling out before pulling you up off your knees and instead pushed against the counter. Before you could even react, his hands had tugged down your slutty shorts, revealing your ridiculously small panties. He pushed those to the side, sliding into you with the help of your slick as he filled up your pussy. His grip moved to your hips, you face pushed into the counter from the pleasure and pain mix... "tate.." you moaned, biting down on your lip as he thrusted up into you, hitting your cervix. You let out a yelp, the feeling too much.
"Tate!" This time, you were much louder, and he began to move in and out, looking at you pussy as it slowly got used to his size. "Sorry.." he said quietly, still moving. Apart of him felt bad for just doing that, but you couldn't deny the wonderful feeling that filled your body. "Mm.." you mumbled, Tates thrusts going faster. "You like that?" He pushed out, going faster as each thrust filled your throbbing pussy. You nodded with desperation, your hands clawing at nothing on the counter.
"F-fuck!" You squeaked out, your eyes squeezing shut as your skin plapped with his, his thrusts becoming too much to bare. "Tate! Tate!" You said between grinding teeth, your clit aching with your orgasm approaching. Tate was close too, and with a final moan, he came, pulling out as he watched you ooze with cum. You opened your eyes, looking up at him in the mirror as his face makeup seemed much more blurry.. maybe even ruined with sweat.
"Mmgh.." Tate breathlessly moaned guiding his tip and rubbing your clit with his cock. The overstimulation made him whine some, but it was enough to make you cum. Your eyes rolled back with pleasure, your squeaks and moans growing as you finally hit your climax.
"Thank you.." you said quietly, your legs feeling much more week then usual. "Thank you too.." Tate said in a low tone, feeling as he collapsed next to you, his cock softening after the orgasm.
*♪¸¸.•*¨·:*ೄ·*♪¸¸.•*¨·:*ೄ·
Taglist: @kaismanwich @tatelangdonsgirll @daylas-life @hyperharlz @kaiju-superstar @howtobesasha @luttic @spill-the-t @ima0nahlol
Fully aware this sucks sorry. Next scenario based on this ask will be linked once it's posted. 🫠
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doll3tt33 · 11 days
Text
‘cause when you know you know ⊹ ࣪ ˖
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Summary: As you and Colin snuggled in bed, your attention was drawn to a note peeking out from his pocket. Despite his insistence that it held no significance, his anxious and secretive behavior seemed to speak louder than his words…
Tags: fluff, fem!reader, usage of Y/N (only a couple times), an anxious Colin and an overly curious reader who overthinks a loooot
Not that I think anyone’s gonna be mean, BUT PLEASE DONT BE. I HIGHKEY FEEL INSECURE ABOUT THIS 😭😭 THE PLOT FEELS RLY JUVENILE
"Nineteen... Twenty... Twenty-one! Twenty-one cute lil' freckles on your body, from head to toe," Colin declared triumphantly.
"Are you done yet, ya big doofus?" You rolled your eyes, giving Colin a playful shove. Colin, also known as the "idiot big spoon on your bed," wouldn't stop pestering you or your bare flesh.
"Uh, no? I didn't count for nothing. You know what I'm gonna do next?"
"I shudder to think! But please, do enlighten me," you replied in an airy tone, though curiosity shone through your feigned exasperation.
Seeing every subtle change in your expression was Colin's special talent, one he took pride in. As he gazed at you now, his face broke into that familiar, dorky grin you found so endearing.
His finger traced over the freckle on your shoulder. "I'm gonna kiss each of those lovely freckles on your equally lovely body... twenty-one times. Now c'mere!" he exclaimed, beckoning you closer. "Lemme shower my beautiful girl with some good ol' fashioned affection!"
Before you could protest, Colin swept you into his arms, holding you close against his warm chest. Soft giggles escaped as his lips began to tenderly graze each freckle, starting at your cheek and trailing lower. You squirmed in his grasp, half-heartedly attempting to twist away from his affectionate assault even as another peal of laughter bubbled up.
Undeterred by your token resistance, Colin continued peppering gentle kisses over your skin. His smile pressed against the mole on your neck, then lower to your shoulder and chest.
While Colin had you pinned beneath him, giggling and squirming, you spied a corner of paper protruding from his jeans pocket. Seizing the chance, you snatched it up while his hands were otherwise occupied.
"Ooooh... well well, what do we have here, detective?" you teased, waving the paper tauntingly. "Looks like I've found myself a clue! Hm... I wonder what mysteries it holds."
Colin instantly realized his blunder and made a swipe for the paper, but you held it out of reach. "Could it be a top-secret case file? Or... the numbers to your credit card? Really hope it’s the latter."
His eyes went round as saucers at the sight of the stolen paper in your grasp. In a flash, he snatched it back, hastily stuffing it deep down into his pocket.
"Nothing!- It's nothing, really," he said a little too quickly, his eyes darting about nervously. "Jus’ an old scrap from work is all, absolutely nothing to see here.”
But Colin knew you too well to be dissuaded so easily. The spark of intrigue in your gaze was fixed squarely upon the pocket concealing a supposed "old scrap." He recognized that look—once your curiosity was piqued, nothing could satisfy it but the truth.
"Nah, that definitely looks like something to me," you replied, your eyes still fixed on the hidden paper.
Colin chuckled nervously. "No. Don’t you dare start now. Just do me a favor and turn those pretty lil' eyes of yours away, 'kay?"
He even attempted to gently guide your head in the opposite direction with his hand, but your determination was unyielding. You refused to budge, still staring and now pouting. "Hey, don't push my head around! Just show me, please, Col? Pretty please?"
"Hm... pretty please, huh?" Colin pretended to ponder, stroking his chin thoughtfully. "Yeah, sorry, still no."
"Pretty please with a cherry on top?"
"No."
"With two cherries on top? Three cherries and whipped cream?"
"Y/N. No. A gazillion cherries on top won't cut it. Seriously, there's nothing on that stupid piece of paper!" Colin insisted with a chuckle, raising his hands in mock surrender.
You weren't convinced, noting the telltale signs that said otherwise - his overly casual tone, the tightness at the corners of his smile, the fidgeting fingers now plucking at a loose thread on the blanket. You could smell a load of bullshit right in this very bed. Colin had many strengths, but lying was definitely not one of them.
"Hm."
Your eyes narrowed into slits, harboring great suspicion at your nervous wreck of a boyfriend beside you. You leaned in closer, and he shrank back just as quickly, as if he were afraid you could smell the truth out of him.
"You're acting oddly suspicious," you observed. "Is it me, or do I feel like you're lying big time right now?"
Colin waved his hands as if to ward you off. "Woah woah, easy there now! I'm not lyin’. Can we just drop this now, please?" His voice pitched higher in a tell-tale sign of nerves.
You let out a whine. "But I know you're lying. Just tell me the truth already. I'm dying over here!"
"No, I won't. 'Cause like I said, I'm not lyin'!" Like he would actually tell the truth. You could practically see the sweat glistening on Colin's forehead. This man had a knack for getting incredibly anxious when faced with confrontation. Seeing him like this, a new emotion began to overshadow your initial eagerness to uncover the truth - fear. It crept up from the depths of your stomach, intensifying with each passing moment. A multitude of "what-ifs" swirled in your mind, ideas bouncing off the walls of your hyperactive brain, all trying to decipher what on earth could your boyfriend be hiding on that piece of paper.
As Colin fidgeted nervously, your mind raced through possibilities for what the paper contained. The most plausible - and worrying - scenario was another woman’s number. If that was the case, why didn’t he just come clean and tell you? He had always been open and honest with you about everything. Plus, there had never ever been a reason to doubt his unwavering loyalty... well, until now.
Lost in thought, you barely noticed Colin waving a hand in front of your face. "Earth to Y/N? You still with me?" he asked gently, peering at you with concern.
Lifting your head up to meet his worried gaze, there was a mix of confusion and disbelief evident in your eyes as you prepared to utter the words you never thought you'd say.
"That piece of paper... does it happen to have some lady's phone number written on it?"
"You can be honest, I promise I won't get mad," you assured, mentally bracing yourself to be hit with whatever response awaited.
“Huh?”
Your assumption clearly took Colin by surprise. Instead of the guilt-ridden glimmer you anticipated in his eyes, you were met with a face of sheer astonishment. Frantically shaking his head, he hurried closer to you on the bed, gently taking your hands in his.
"No nonononono- not the case at all! Not even close, I swear to God. It's just I-... um," he protested urgently, meeting your gaze with an intensity aimed at conveying his sincerity. Relief softened your smile, allowing him to continue.
"No lady gave me her phone number. All the paper has on it is... something I wrote. For you." A touch of pink rose in his cheeks as he dropped his eyes shyly. "A silly, overly sentimental thing that is, well, cheesy. And I mean really cheesy."
Your expression twisted to one tinged with guilt as you realized the weight of your relentless probing, falsely assuming Colin's disloyalty. Furrowing your brow, you directed an apologetic gaze in his direction.
"Shit, I'm sorry Col. I didn't mean to jump to conclusions like that. But honestly, you don't have to hide anything from me, no matter how silly you think it is."
"And hey, I'm a sucker for cheese!" you added playfully, giving his arm an affectionate squeeze. "So whatever sappy words you wrote, I promise not to tease - much."
You graced him with a fond smile, hoping to ease his nerves. Colin swallowed hard, visibly steeling himself before digging back up the crumpled-up paper from his pocket. His shoulders lost some of their tension as he smoothed it out, lips quirking up at his own words.
"Oh boy... you asked for it. You're gonna be on a ride to cheese-land supreme with this one."
After a brief moment of silence, he took a steady breath, breaking the stillness in the air. He sat up straight, preparing himself.
"Alright, here goes..." He cleared his throat softly before reading.
"Dear Y/N... I know I should be focused on our latest case, but try as I might, I really cannot get a certain beautiful someone out of my head," he began, lips curling up as he skimmed his words.
"So here I sit, scribbling these sappy words on this flimsy piece of paper like a schoolboy, instead of working as I should. Terrible form, I know." At his own joke within, Colin let out a quiet chuckle and glanced up to gauge your reaction. Finding only fondness and encouragement, he relaxed enough to continue baring his heart through the silly note he'd written.
"I know my work can keep me away too long, and that you feel neglected at times. But please believe that you are always in my thoughts."
He risked a playful glance your way. "Even when you always find a way to talk my ear off or sprawl out to take up the whole couch, you still are.”
He continued, his voice growing softer. "But your quirks could never outweigh all my favorite little things about you, because I love you. I truly do.
Just like how I love that your smile and dimples are the first thing I notice when you step into the room.
Or how I love that your eyes light up at the mere mention of chocolate ice cream, and you'd beg me to buy you some even when you're full.
How I love that your brows crinkle when you think too hard and too long about something.
And how I love that you're the first person I think of waking up in the morning, and the last person I think of going to sleep.
You made me realize that when you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible."
You weren't expecting that, you truly weren't. Colin's heartfelt words truly touched you. As the first happy tears slipped free, you couldn't help but embrace him tightly.
Though startled at first, he quickly melted into your arms, ever your safe harbor. His familiar, comforting touch - a hand stroking your back, lips pressing softly to your forehead - undid you completely.
"Aw shucks, don't cry on me now," he soothed gently. But you could only burrow closer, overcome by gratitude and love for this man. He understood you so perfectly, from your quirks to your heart.
"Those better be tears from happiness and not tears from how god-awful that was," Colin laughed warmly as he wiped the last of your tears.
"No, it wasn't bad at all. For real."
"For-real for-real?"
"Well, okay, it was a tiiiny bit cheesy. But from the heart, which is what matters."
"Annnd if I detected a certain scene or two borrowed from 'When Harry Met Sally', who am I to judge?" You teased.
Colin gave an exaggerated sigh. "Alright, alright, you caught me copying shamelessly." His eyes were warm as he tucked an errant lock of hair behind your ear.
"But I meant every word, cheesy or not. Now c'mere you." Pulling you close once more, he pressed a tender kiss to your lips. His words, however awfully cheesy (and a bit unoriginal) they may be, had completely warmed your heart nonetheless.
author’s note:
This feels kinda cringe, I honestly have no idea what I was doing with this tbh 😭 I’m on my period so I kinda got into the feels, then I saw that one scene from ‘When Harry met Sally’, and thought it’d be a good idea to write a fic
In all honesty, I just wanted an excuse to write about Colin, and perhaps strengthen my writing skills ((still mostly because of Colin tho
divider credit: @/vg-k
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silverzoomies · 18 days
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Summer Wind
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tate langdon x reader smut
warnings: existential crisis, death, afterlife, implied/referenced character death, murder, angst, aged-up tate langdon, fingering, fingerfucking, kissing, canon divergence
word count: 4,690
a/n: another drabble. y'know that thing people do sometimes? where they "age-up" a character, but don't really age them up? i initially wrote this in response to that. but it somehow turned into a means of venting my existential terror instead. i was gonna include more smut. but tbh i didn't feel right about it. this one's gonna stay unfinished. sorry about the abrupt ending !!
inspired by the song summer wind by frank sinatra
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You were dead for an indiscernible span of time.
You couldn't be sure how long. But you suspected a few years, at least. Through one of the top floor windows of your eternal purgatory; you watched the trees. Nature alternated between skeletal displays of branches, to vibrant arrays of color. Withered. Blooming. Withered. Blooming. Withered. Blooming again. Rinse and repeat.
Once you accepted your fate, things started clicking into place. Trapped in a vintage hotbox of murder, you put together the pieces of a long lost puzzle. And though some parts were still absent, you pushed yourself to move on. You might never figure out how you died, or who you were before. But to worry so much would be senseless at this point.
Through acceptance, you began to feel again. If only in small bursts. Abrupt, but worth cherishing.
One memory remained ever present. You had the sense you were a school guidance counselor in life. And in death, you took up the mantle again. Offering your services to the other souls lost in the house. One of the ghostly residents shared a similar occupation. Way back in his breathing years. He didn’t do it so much anymore. Instead, he spent time with his family, working towards redemption for his past actions.
You steered clear of most residents, fearful of their unpredictable episodes of bloodlust. They allowed the evil within the house to lure them further into madness. On the days they came to you for your services, you spoke to them in hopes they’d find absolution. Change in the afterlife was extremely difficult to achieve. Your 'clients' rarely ever scratched the surface of their tainted psyches. And any progress they made, they always resorted to their old habits in the end.
Only one of them ever found true change. Of course, he had to be the most wretched of them all.
You once felt sympathy for Tate, making excuses on his behalf. In the years when his heart still pumped blood through his veins; he was young. Misguided. Perhaps the pressures of his upbringing took too much of a toll on him. And in the afterlife, he suffered under the influence of the house itself. The evil buried deep within channeled through his broken soul.
But if such an evil did exist, it never took hold of you. Nor did it sink its venomous teeth into Violet, or her innocent mother, or that pure of heart baby, or even Ben Harmon himself - sinful a man as he was. They resisted, and so did you.
Tate was pure evil. Carnage incarnate. Maybe that made him susceptible to the influence of dark forces. But after talking with him for a few years, you accepted him for what he was. Foul from birth, deplorable in death. No matter how often you tried guiding him to goodness, he remained forever loathsome. The evil in him burned eternally, needing no kindling.
His own acceptance of that fact allowed him to change. In a more physical way, much like Moira. Tate embraced his fate, convinced the house was where he belonged. A punishment until the end of all things. Simultaneously, a safe haven from whatever lay in waiting after purgatory. Tate’s progress was very much real. Albeit, not the kind you aimed for.
You could see his growth in his features, rather than his morals. Sitting across from you during another weekly session, Tate fidgeted with a frayed hole in his jeans. With his blond brows creased, he stared down at the denim. As you watched him like this, you picked apart his finer details. Where his skin once beamed with the pale, ghostly image of youth; creases were now etched in. Faint, but noticeable lines curved under his eyes.
An aura of maturity emanated from him like a light much too dim. Tate carried the same mannerisms from his heyday - if one could even call it that. But he had long since graduated from his mentality of that era. Tate spoke of his past actions as if he regretted them, though you suspected he felt no real remorse. He used to cry all the time. He used to throw childish tantrums. But you couldn’t remember the last time you saw his soulless, black eyes water. Now…
He carried nothing but cold desolation. Common amongst those trapped in perpetual limbo.
“I saw her again today.” He admitted, his lidded eyes flitting up to meet yours, “She hasn’t changed any. Not like me. Not like…” Tate made a gesture at his face, his thumb grazing the angular shape of his jaw. Tiredly, he blinked, “Not like this. Fate’s a funny thing, isn’t it? I always thought we were fated to be together forever, but…”
On the sofa across from him, you kept your cheek perched in a hand. As you scribbled in your notebook, you took note of the way Tate’s features bled misery. All at the mention of her. It must have been painful for him, watching her stay the same. While he finally outgrew himself. Those changes only further separated the two of them. Obliterating any chance he had to make amends. If there ever was.
There especially wouldn’t be now. Even Tate was on the tailend of coming to terms with it.
“How’d it make you feel this time around?” You pressed in a soft tone, shifting on the couch. His dark hues zeroed in on your thighs, bare in a simple dress. The lining appeared cheap, glittering with sequins reminiscent of childhood nostalgia, “When you saw her?”
“Fuckin’...I dunno…” Tate put his face in his vascular hands, fingers curling into his hair, “She’s like a kid to me anymore. What am I supposed to think?”
“Maybe she’s content like that. In the same way you’re content the way you are now.” You shrugged, tenderly laughing, “Maybe teenage angst suits her that much.”
He shook his head, shifting from a criss cross position on the loveseat across from you. Bouncing a leg, Tate gave you a pointed look. His brows turned downward.
“We thought it fit me too, didn’t we? But look at me now."
You were. You were looking at him a lot. And he wasn't wrong. Teenage angst once paired well with Tate's immature nature. Back when he thought like a kid, and acted on impulse. These days, he'd become more lethargic. When he wasn’t consumed with blood lust. Rugged virility was his partner now. Coupled with the melancholy existentialism of a man pushing thirty.
“You wanted to move on.” You clarified, your teeth clicking the edge of a pen at your lips.
“Did I?” Tate bitterly laughed, the empty vacuums of his eyes caught your tongue in motion, “Doesn't seem like anyone else here wants to. ‘Cept Moira.”
“Well, they only think they can’t. They believe they’re tethered here, frozen in time at their moment of death. I used to think growth was impossible too. Until you…”
You took in his masculine features again. The scruff around his chin. So fair, and not too noticeable. Catching yourself in the midst of ogling him, you redirected your gaze to Tate’s eyes. Imposing. Starless. Easy to get lost in. He wasn’t ignorant to your attraction. A hint of grin pulled into his laugh lines and dimples.
“Does it scare you?” He asked, “What’s your excuse then?” Tate threw a condescending nod of his head, “If you’re so enlightened. If you know better than all of us - with your morals ‘n bullshit like that. Why haven’t you changed any since you died?"
Shrugging, you looked bashfully down at your notes.
“Why would I want to? If I can stay young for eternity. If I can keep these curves, and what’s left of my youth. What’s the point in growing older?” You admitted in truth.
“That’s a little superficial though, isn’t it?” Tate leaned back into the loveseat cushions, “Shit like that doesn’t matter here. Who are you tryna impress? And what’s anybody living gonna think? When they meet you, and find out you’re nothin’ but food for maggots now.” He teased, legs spread, one knee bouncing, “There’s gotta be another reason you haven’t moved on. You’re not like us. I dunno why you and the Harmons don’t just…y’know…go.” He trailed off, his gaze falling to his lap.
You saw his bitterness return in full force. Another miserable wave of longing washed over him. Yearning for something that didn’t exist anymore, and never would again.
“I…” You paused, doodling hasty flowers in your notebook. You avoided Tate’s eyes, “I wanna know how I died first. I wanna know who I was. Before I even consider moving on.”
Sinister acidity flashed through his vision, “Seriously? That’s what’s stopping you?” Tate huffed a harsh laugh, admitting without missing a beat, “You wanna know how you died? I’ll tell you. I stuck a knife in your back and stabbed you to death.” He confessed, monotone, “You know it too. You’ve known since we met. You’ve just been in denial this whole time.”
You sat up in an abrupt movement, scooting forward and tossing your notebook away.
“What?! What are you even talking ab-…I’ve been trying to figure this out for years, Tate! Years!” You threw out your hands, “You…you can’t be serious! Why would I be in denial about something like that??”
Tears of betrayal stung the corners of your eyes. Tate shrugged, seemingly unbothered. He crossed his arms, his eyes dark under the ridges of his brows.
“‘Cuz you feel bad for me. Or…uhm…you wanna feel bad for me.” He shrugged again, “Fuck if I know why. I’m the last guy you should have sympathy for.” Tate said, his black hues narrowing in thought.
“You didn’t…did you really stab me? Really? You’re not lying about that?” You almost shouted, clawing your fingers through your hair, “Please. Please tell me you’re lying!”
Tate appeared unfazed, ignoring you, “Do you love me or something? Is that why you’re so broken up about this?” He asked, desperate in his infinite search for validation.
“Why the fuck would you stab me?!” You shouted, full of wrathful turmoil.
You stood off the couch, surging toward him with your fists balled at your sides. Tate didn’t flinch. He pursed his lips, thoughtful again. With an insufferable aura of nonchalance, he shrugged once more.
“Wanted to.”
The blank emptiness in his expression told you everything you already knew. Tears streamed down your face, painting your cheeks and chin in damp threads.
“Where? Where did you stab me??”
Tate gestured with a nod of his head, towards the only window in the room. A summer breeze fluttered, catching the curtains in its dance. You wanted to find the radiant light of nature beautiful again. But it only served as a haunting reminder - the environment remained symbiotic with time. And you were forever left behind.
“Over there. By that window.” He said, watching you pad over to said window, the skirt of your dress fluttering.
The window. In the one room you always felt so drawn to, for reasons unknown. Now, you knew. Bracing your hands on the windowsill, you peered your head outside. Ghosting your skin, the air breathed an essence of life. Something you were no longer a part of. You used to be content with that fact. But now? Knowing your life was unfairly ripped from you, how could you ever move on? Your death wasn’t an accident. Nor had an irreversible illness seized your physical form. Just Tate.
His low voice droned from behind you and in your ear. A faint vibration followed, along with a presence at your back. You felt the soft texture of his sweater, but no body heat with it. One of his icy hands met your shoulder. He reached his other arm out. Tate pointed to a spot near the entrance gates.
“I didn’t wanna tell you. Because I didn’t wanna lose you too. But…” He paused for a beat, “It was on Halloween. Ten years or so years ago, I guess. I was gonna leave. Make my rounds. Y’know…like I used to. The house was-uh...up for grabs back then. You came up to the door. One of the kids here opened it for you. And you kinda...walked in. Tried lookin' for 'em. Wrong place, wrong time.” Tate lowered both his hands to yours, after sliding his fingers down the sides of your arms, “You were holdin’ hands with some kid the whole time. He had to be, like…seven? Eight? I don’t even remember what his costume was.” His lips curved in a grin, “But I still remember yours.”
Your fingers curled into the sill, scraping wood, indenting the paint.
Ten years.
“So, you stabbed me in front of a child?”
Another breeze blew by. The steady air picked up your dress with it, flitting delicate fabric. Glitter along the seams of it fell away, sparkling like microscopic crystallites in the wind. Tate’s long fingers drew patterns over the cold surface of your skin. Tracing infinity symbols onto your hands.
“Rapunzel.” He whispered, “That dress was kinda pretty on you. Sucks about all the blood.”
You remembered then. When death imbued you with unexpected consciousness, you wandered around the house in a blood-stained dress. And ever since, your afterlife wardrobe alternated only between dresses of similar styles. Always cheap fabrics. Decorated in craft materials. You assumed you must’ve loved playing dress up in life. The thought of perishing in a store bought Halloween costume never crossed your mind.
“Who was he?”
You sniffled, breath hitching without any need for oxygen. Tate brought a hand to your cheek, wiping away your tears. He loomed behind you. A cold-blooded apparition of your nightmares. His casual talk of violent depravity made your blood boil.
“Who, the kid?” He asked.
He lowered his hands to the sill. Looking out the window over your shoulder, Tate squinted in the sunlight.
“Yes! I don’t-” You burst into tears without warning, sobbing into your hands, “I-I don’t remember anything! Nothing! I had no idea…who was he??”
“Dunno…” he dropped his head, pressing his cheek to your hair, “I didn’t really stop to ask. He ran away. Right after I pushed you out of this window.”
“You pushed m-what?! You’re a fucking monster.” You whimpered. Wishing you could leap out and disappear with the oscillation of the wind, “You know you’re never getting out of here, don’t you? You’re never going to change, Tate. You’ll always be a monster.”
“Probably.” He droned, wrapping his arms around your middle. Pulling you closer, he added, “You’ll be stuck here too. If you don’t let go of that anger. If you let your rage consume you. All that bitterness and hatred. This house feeds off of it.” Another pause. He nuzzled the top of your head with his cheek, “Uhm…I know this won’t fix anything. But…I really am sorry I took your life from you.”
You huffed, staring teary eyed out the window. Taking in the vast, effervescent world you’d never be a part of - through the border that brought your demise.
“But I’m really stoked you’re here….’cuz it’s not as lonely with you around.” He admitted.
“I could always tell you to fuck off.” You choked, venomous in your revulsion.
“Yeah. You could. But you won’t.” He grabbed your arms with gentle hands, wheeling you around to face him. He took your tiny fingers in his palms. You refused to meet his eyes, “If you made me disappear, you wouldn’t have anybody.”
You decided to hit him where it hurt, strangling through tears, “I could always talk to Violet. She has such a good heart. Not like the rest of you. You’re all just…awful. So horrible and cruel!”
Tate clenched his jaw, dropping his forehead into yours.
“You’re right. She’s not.” He woefully mumbled, “How come I still miss her, huh? Been missin’ what we had for, like…forever. Now I’m pushin’ you away too. And you’re all I have left.”
“Maybe stop killing people, Tate?” You snuffed, tears catching your eyelashes. He wiped them away all the same, “Who knew death could be so miserable. I…I finally found out the one thing I’ve wanted to know after all these years. I thought a little closure might help me, but…” You cried, “I feel even more messed up.”
“Why? Do you love me?” He pressed with so little confidence, you felt he only said it to convince himself.
“I…” You hesitated, brows furrowed, “I cared about you. Even though you’re a lunatic. I wanted to give you a chance. But now…now I just want to shove you out this window like you did to me. I want to scream at you, Tate! I want to make you suffer! I want to-”
He shifted closer. Within this vicinity, his maturation became all the more clear. Your weeping hues glazed over the creases under his eyes. The blond bangs of his hair had thinned by a smidgen, losing its youthful shagginess. He was all fine lines and outward exhaustion. Had you met him like this in life, you’d think him a mere decade away from a mid-life crisis.
“Go ahead. If it helps. I don’t mind.” He reached down again, grabbing your hands and guiding them up to his chest, “Just let all that rage go…you can take it out on me.”
This was just another tactic of his. An attempt to appease you, in desperate hopes you’d forgive him. Still, you didn’t think twice. Whatever wrathful anguish you kept buried inside finally erupted. The soul crushing weight of loss tumbled down over you, sending you into a frenzy. You thrashed your arms, throwing your fists in shallow, but sharp strikes. Battering against Tate’s chest, you landed every blow - inspired by betrayal. He remained still, watching you with a hollow look.
Hits turned to scratches as your grief took hold of you. You clawed into Tate’s sweater, wailing, powerless to the pain of his disloyalty. Taken aback by your overwhelming emotions, you wondered how the afterlife could bring so much suffering. Tate wrapped his arms around you again, and you buried your nose in his sweater. Your sorrowful tears stained the stitching.
“I hate you. So much. So fucking much.” You whimpered.
“You said you cared about me.”
“I hate that I care about you.” You cried, sobbing into his sweater, “I-I want to hate you. I need to hate you. But you’re right. You’re fucking vile, and you’re right. If you were gone, I wouldn’t have anybody else.”
Shifting again, he tilted your head up with a cold hand under your chin. Tate stared down at you, weary with lonesome desolation. The endless monotony of purgatory brought forth nothing but turmoil. And that turmoil linked you both in all-consuming angst. When he dove in to kiss your lips, you allowed it. If only to feel something far less painful.
Tate hadn’t kissed anyone in over a decade. But he flowed naturally with you, wary of applying too much pressure. The last of your tears fell, and again, he wiped them away. Separation came slow, as he parted from your lips. He blinked, leering like he couldn’t believe you reciprocated. Another beat, and he dove in all over again.
“I’m sorry.” He whispered.
Kissing in your ghostly state felt bleak as the dull air of winter. In the throes of lonesome yearning, death nuzzled death so intimately. You opened yourself up for him, moving back until you hit the windowsill. In your negligence, you sat on it. A calm, easy breeze enveloped your back, tickling your neck. His desirous kisses swallowed you in, his hands claiming your cheeks.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” He mumbled, his words weaving through every kiss.
Fate had yet to deliver you closeness of this kind. You couldn’t fathom how intimate connectedness might work in death. As Tate’s cold lips fell to your neck, the atmosphere between the two of you shifted. Something akin to the radiance of life saturated the air. Like the summer’s glow shining from outside. A few seconds more, and coldness turned to heat. Sensual heat.
“What does it feel like?” You asked, breathless without the need for air. You tipped your head back. Tate took this as an invitation to ravish more of you, “To make love after dying?”
The glossy warmth of his tongue painted gradual lines across your neck. He caressed you with a thumb, gliding the digit over your cheek. Under the newfound heat of his palm, you felt burning intensity. No one else brought you physical touch like this. Not since a time before you perished, so long ago.
All because of him.
“Feels kinda the same?” Tate muttered in a hushed voice. Capturing your lips again, he kissed you with cautious tenderness, “It’s a lot like being alive…from what I remember. Some of us get addicted to it. Like a drug. They suffer without it. Drives ‘em crazy.”
His forehead fell to yours once more, and Tate’s eyes fluttered shut. He continued stroking your cheek, cradling your face. As if you’d disappear once he let go. You noticed the way his chest heaved. Slowly, like his lungs were still infused with the essence of life. But when he moved in for another kiss, you felt no breath on your lips.
“Does it drive you crazy?” You whispered between kisses, “Do you suffer without it?”
“Not really.” He said, dragging his thumb over your lip, “Missed this, though. I miss it all the time.”
“What? Kissing?”
Tate nodded, blond brows creasing as his smile faded. For a beat or two more, he fell silent. Staring down into your eyes with all the liveliness of a barren void. You gazed into a cave-like abyss, lost with no light to guide you. Beckoned by the promise of something unseen.
“This feels…different…with you.” He whispered.
“Different how?” You shivered as his soft touches moved elsewhere, "Are you feeling guilty? Does it hurt? I hope it fucking hurts."
Dragging the tips of his fingers up and down your arms, he drew invisible lines with his nails. So careful. Like you’d shatter if he treated you too roughly. His palms settled over your hips, and again, he kissed you. Tate just couldn’t seem to stop doing so, even as you spoke to him with poison on your tongue.
“No. It’s warmer.” He squeezed your hips a little tighter, “Why…why’s it so warm with you?”
The initial kisses between you both were so frigid and lifeless. But now, somehow, so heated and real. You locked your legs around his hips, crossing your ankles. Inviting him forward, you loomed in the sill of the window. Your body tilted. In the arms of the summer’s air, you almost fell backwards. You had every reason to believe Tate would let you plummet.
But he didn’t. Not this time.
With an arm wrapped around your waist, he kept you from slipping. Under your dress, his free hand sought the heat between your legs. His palm cradled warmth over thin cloth. Discreetly, he pressed the pads of his fingers to your sex over your panties. And the contact amplified a scorching fire within you. A vigor exceeding the bitterness of death.
You wondered if Tate had less experience than he claimed in therapy. It took him a few tries before he found your clit. His sizable fingers circled your little nub in easy motions. Drawing long, needy noises out of you. Silence lingered between you both in calm, but tense quiet. Until the rasp of his voice caught your attention.
“Do you feel this? Do you feel, like…anything?”
You whimpered in response - timid like a churchmouse - as wetness stained Tate’s fingers through fabric. Cotton once so pure and untouched became damp. He chuckled, the sinister rumble in his throat making your blood run cold. Until the warmth of desire lured you in before you could second guess yourself. Savoring the hot friction on your pussy, you allowed sin to taint your clarity.
"For you? No. Never. You're sick. You're twisted. You're-" You cut yourself off with another whimper, once Tate caressed you with more pressure.
“Oh, shit…” He hastily tugged your panties down your thighs. Cupping your bare cunt, he pressed firmly into your clit. Thick digits teased the blazing heat of your folds, “You do, don’t you?”
Tate’s fingers dipped into your slick valley, his digits predominantly larger than your own. You rolled your hips just a smidgen, careful not to lose your balance - lest you fall out the window. Again. Though, maybe a rough tumble onto the lawn would knock some sense back into your muddled head. His other arm stayed iron locked around your body, keeping you safe. He eased inside you with all the hesitance of a man out of practice.
"F-Fuck! Fuck this. Fuck you." You mumbled, hushed under airy moans.
Following the squeeze of pleasure in your core, came something you lost in the afterlife. You almost felt the pumping of your dead heart again. A ghostly sensation of life blossomed under your ribs. Warmth flowed through your veins in syrupy bliss. Cozy wind billowed from outside, tickling your skin. If you closed your eyes for long enough, basking in the ecstasy of true feeling - you might’ve believed you were somehow revived.
Flitting your lashes, your eyes gradually opened. The sunny glow of afternoon light painted Tate’s aged features, showering him in golden rays. An image far too heavenly for a cold-blooded monster birthed from sin. You looked lazily into his hues. A whirlpool of guilt intermingling with lifeless cruelty; all within his dusky eyes.
“Feels like…” He mumbled, clumsily nuzzling your clit with the pad of his thumb. Biting his lip, Tate stifled a groan. He buried his fingers to the knuckle in your cunt, “...like I can feel your blood pumping.” Adding a third digit, he stretched you open. Your walls made effortless room just for him. You whined, making him smirk, “Fuck, this is hot. You love it, huh?”
"No. No. No, I'd never! Not with you. I'm just-" You swallowed, feeling your cheeks burn, "It really does feel like-"
Post-mortem coldness became lost on you now. Left behind, alongside your broken hearted resentment. Instead, you were overcome with the lively spirit of beingness. The afterlife had been so unkind to you. For a decade now. It abandoned you to stew in the longevity of solitude. With no one but Tate to provide you true company. Bringing your hands up to his cheeks, you pulled him in for a kiss. Your fingers threaded through his blond locks. Winding your tongue sloppily with his, you whined.
"Make me cum." You asserted, your legs sealing tighter around him, "Make me cum, and I might forgive you."
A flash of vulnerable sweetness overtook Tate's face, his puppydog eyes lighting up. An almighty flood of euphoria built up to a radiant crescendo, as his digits fucked you into oblivion. You clamped around his fingers, squirming with such intensity - he almost lost his hold on you. Tranquility found you at the peak of your climax. A divine miracle. As you cried little pleas into Tate’s lips, you felt as though you grew angel’s wings. As if some ethereal being descended from the heavens themselves, stole you away, and led you to the golden gates.
As you shuddered, your paradisal tremors eventually subsided. Blissful nirvana faded, and the hollow nothingness of death’s touch came again. Outside, the world continued on in slow-moving seconds. And in the distant horizon, the sun began its steady fall into night. Tate’s nose brushed yours. Looming in so close, he withdrew his drenched digits from your pussy. Leaving even more forsaken emptiness behind.
“I could…do that kinda thing for you every day…if you wanted me to.” He whispered, peppering your forehead in kisses, “It feels really good, doesn’t it? Just…please don’t make me go away? Please…”
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spookievan · 1 year
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high school sweetheart <3
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