#tate ahs

[girldeadsworld]

Am I ovulating or is this way too real?

[devilwearsdi0r]

showing off my tate and violet hoodie >ᴗ<!!

[illumoria]

First Worship !

────────────────୨ৎ───────────────

⋆·˚ ༘ ..⋆𖥔 ݁ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖۶ৎ tate langdon x reader

content warning!!: fluff + smut | oral sex (f receiving), emotionally vulnerable intimacy, soft dom!reader/sub!tate, themes of emotional dependency and insecurity, one single use of "mommy", tate creams his boxers </3

wc: 1343

author's note: why the f is ahs not free on amazon prime anymore?

masterlist!

────────────────୨ৎ───────────────

You were barely aware of when it started—when his fingers started to trace little patterns against your arm, drawing hearts over your skin. There was something nervous in the way he touched you, like he was afraid you might vanish if he held on too tightly.

"Tate?" You whispered, your voice a little muffled beneath the sound of rain–each droplet hitting the window with a quiet thud.

"I just wanna be close to you, is that okay?" He replied, his voice unusually soft. Vulnerable.

He looked up at you through his eyebrows, brown doe eyes staring into your own like you were the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

You nodded your head slowly, both of you shifting beneath the covers until you were pressed right up against his side, cheek against his shoulder. He held you tightly, shaky fingers digging into your skin.

"Are you okay?" You murmur, only earning a sigh in response.

He doesn't reply verbally, just tilts your head up so he could see you. His eyes wandered all over your features, adam's apple bobbing when he stopped on your mouth.

You leaned in a bit closer as if giving him permission, letting him press his lips against your mouth in a gentle kiss–a silent "I love you."

Time seemed to still for a few minutes as you both tangled together, completely ignoring the outside world.

It didn't matter when you were both with each other. Nothing did.

He gently broke away from the kiss, brushing some hair from your face as he did.

He looked down at your lips, eyes trailing down your body..

His gaze went back up to your fingers when you reached out, brushing his cheek. He leaned into your touch instinctively, like he wanted to savour your hand against his skin.

He whispered your name, low and shaky as you held his cheek, his lips pressing against your palm.

"Hm?" You hummed, each slide of your fingers against his skin careful and calculated.

"Please, I want you.." he whimpered, "I just don't wanna mess up."

"You won't mess up, Tate." You whispered, letting him slide his hands over your sides, watching him play with your waistband.

He looked up at you as if asking for permission that he could go further, do what he wanted. What you both did.

You nodded, already shifting closer under the covers. He kissed you like he was trying to memorize you—slow and reverent, mouth brushing yours like a secret. His hands stayed respectful, moving gently. You could feel the way his body trembled slightly, like he didn’t believe he deserved this.

Clothes slipped away piece by piece, not thrown off in a desperate rush but eased off, every inch of skin kissed like a promise. Your bodies slot together like a puzzle, with quiet gasps and breathy moans filling the room, each noise muffled by each other’s mouths.

When you backed up against the headboard he quickly followed, sliding between your legs like it was second nature.

He pressed his lips against your inner thigh, gently kissing his way up and down–letting out a soft whimper against your skin as you buried your fingers in his hair, letting him know it was okay.

Even with your permission he still felt a bit hesitant, but when you finally spoke up? Made it known verbally with a hushed–

"Please Tate, I need you."

He couldn't deny you–or himself for any longer.

He opened up your legs a little more, his fingers gently digging into your thighs as he propped them up ever so slightly, kissing just below your belly button all the way down between your legs.

He slid his tongue over your slit, looking up at you through his lashes–eager for your response. Eager to know if he was pleasing you or not.

You bit your lower lip, shakily nodding before he was looking back down, focusing on the task at hand.

His grip was firm on your plush thighs, keeping you steady, holding you there without hurting you.

He wanted to take his time, show you how much he wanted needed you, how much he loved you–but as soon as he heard you moan, felt your nails scratch his scalp he was a goner.

He eased you into his shift in pace, letting you get used to his slow licks before he was slipping his tongue into your cunt, alternating to lick a long stripe through your folds.

You let out a low groan, eyes fluttering shut, head tilting back as he devoured you like you were his last meal.

Each flick of the wet, pink muscle was intentional, making your toes curl in a way you didn't even know was possible.

He dragged his hand to your ass, squishing the soft skin before angling you up, giving himself more access.

His nose nudged your clit with each move of his mouth, tongue slipping lower, dragging your slick from your clit all the way back down. A mess of saliva and your arousal on his lips.

"I love you.." he groaned against you, his hips involuntarily rutting into the soft mattress, eyes rolling back as more of your moans hit his ears.

"Tate–" you whined, tugging gently at his hair–the small action only seeming to turn him on more.

It was like he got off knowing that you felt good. You were his first priority. In and out of the bedroom.

His hips jolted up–small bunny humps against the bed as he slowly slid two lithe fingers inside of you.

"M-mommy–fuck." He stammered, his warm breath puffing out against your skin as he curled his fingertips just right.

Your hips arched off the bed, his tongue and fingers working in tandem, drawing you closer to that edge.

He shook his head a little, sucking and kissing your skin–near pornographic noises leaving his lips as he ate you out.

"Tate–p-plesse, 'm gonna cum–" you whimpered ,your words only spurring him on as he went back in harder–sloppier than before as he made out with your cunt.

"Oh my god–" you gasped, your head hitting the headboard as you came, waves of pleasure hitting you like a fucking brick.

He pulled away with a groan, hips twitching as he came right in his boxers, the dark wet patch on the crotch obvious even in the low light of your room.

"Did you just–"

"Mmhh..fuck.." he whimpered, his grip loosening around your thighs.

You brushed some hair from his face, looking down at him with furrowed brows.

"Are you okay, Tate..?"

"Mhmph... I just–are–are you okay?"he murmured, before slowly lowering his head, lapping up your cum like a puppy, every drop landing on his tongue.

"Yes." You moan, your head hitting the headboard with another thud.

"Yeah..I'm–I'm okay. I have you.." you whispered, combing your fingers through the blonde tresses on his head.

He finally pulled away from you with a slow lick, soothing your thighs with his hands, rubbing away the little crescent red marks he'd left with his nails.

"You'd tell me if I did something wrong, right?" He mumbled, crawling over next to you, both of you side by side beneath the sheets.

"Yeah." You whispered, looking up at him with a soft sort of expression.

"Good." He replied, hiding his face into the soft skin of your shoulder, pressing little kisses there.

"I meant it. What I said earlier. That I love you." He added, almost as if he were just now trying to sneak it back into the conversation–not wanting to draw attention to it, just wanting you to know.

"Tate."

He tilted his head up, attention fully on you, his eyes wide and slightly watery.

"I love you too."

He let out a breath of relief, immediately hugging you, bringing you in so close you couldn't breathe–

It wasn’t about lust. It was about needing to feel something real. And in those quiet moments—your legs tangled, his forehead pressed to your neck—you couldn't have asked to feel anything else. Anything that wasn't him.

line dividers: @/hyuneskkami

[viharmons]

say "i love tate langdon" and no one bats an eye, but GOD FORBID someone say they like cal gabriel or andre kriegman, suddenly people think you're sick in the head.

[vio4hs]

where’s my nirvana boyfriend

also tate looks sooo fine in this pic

[vrtualvr]

“i’m not a violent dog, i don’t know why i bite.”

[blushhbambi]

so, i read your absolute masterpiece of the fic i requested, unfortunately i'm one greedy soul and you fed me good, may i request tate x fawn!reader soft smut, especially if reader's a virgin and tate's talking them through it, i think it would be really, really sweet

i love your writing so much!

- 🏹

── ˙ ̟ ೕ !! ꣑୧ tate langdon x reader mdniᝰ.ᐟ inexperienced!reader, p in v, loss of virginity, soft sex, praise... . ༉‧₊˚. word count;⁵⁰⁰

“just take your time yeah?”

tate lays back, staring up at you carefully, his dilated pupils filled half with worry, half with awe. you sat over him tense as ever and stuffed to the brim with his pulsing cock, you shiver squeezing him with your already tight cunt. he hisses softly, “i told you angel we don't have to do this—”

“I know— I know—”, you pant out softly, whispering a little embarrassed.

“but I really want to tate— c'mon please…”

he swallows watching the nerves on your face, the slight shake in your voice, making him tighten his grip around your hips. tate can't help but give into your need as you bit your lip softly.

“m’gonna go slow ‘kay?”, his voice is low and comforting in the dim room.

you nod feeling him begin to lift you over his cock, moving you with ease watching your face scrunch up while you ride him, taking his length in long filling strokes.

“feels good?”

“uh huh— so— so good—”, you let out a breathy moan, placing your hands on his torso for balance as he kept his steady pace, letting his hips thrust up into you gently, groaning as he held himself back from fucking you harder.

“mhm— that's it— taking me so well angel…”

he kept going and going as you felt your body tingling with pleasure and that tight feeling blooming inside your stomach. suddenly the tip of his thick cock hit a spongey spot deep inside you, making you gasp out and clutch at him.

“shit— m'sorry—”

worry fills him and he expects you to cry out, to ask him to stop but instead you arch into it, moaning out softly, all breathy and pretty sitting on top of him.

“keep doing that— please—”, you whine, making him let out a breathy sigh of relief and a meek smile as he pumps you over his cock with a more steady pace.

tate loved this. watching you fall apart on top of him, crumbling so softly, so beautifully.

“so pretty like this…”

“look at you angel…”

hes muttering to himself, hypnotised by you and the sloppy connection where the base of his cock met your cunt.

when you cum it's messy and sudden, you gasp, leaning forward unto him and he's holding you tight against him, letting you shake softly into his skin while you screw your eyes tighter letting out little soft whimpers.

“that's it, just— fuck— let it happen—”

tate grunts softly, cumming deep inside you, fucking you gently through your high.

the aftermath is warm and achy. he's stroking your skin gently, the side of your face then moving his palm, rubbing comforting circles into your back.

“did so good—”, he mumbles quietly, feeling you relax on top of him mumbling something shakily while your eyes flutter shut.

tate runs his long fingers through your hair watching you lay your head over his chest, spent and tired as ever. he lets you rest.

“did so good f'me angel— so good—”, he mumbles tiredly feeling his own eyelids grow heavy.

© written by blushhbambi— do not steal or claim as ur own ᝰ.ᐟ

[nyrasbloodyclover]

the sluttiest thing a man can do is be evan peters

[temporarywelcome]

toxic till the end - Tate Langdon

Words: 2.3k

Summary: your relationship with Tate was toxic till the end (inspired by the song "toxic till the end" by Rose`

CW: toxic!tate (ofc), mental health struggle mentions, reader is burnt out trying to help him (remember ya'll, in the end, put yourself first!), threatened sewerslide, Westfield incident, reader's mom is religious but it's barely mentioned

____

Dating Tate Langdon started off simple. It started off great, actually, amazing. 

Y/N was the first to make a move. He was seated alone in the cafeteria, listening to music with his discman when she slid into the seat in front of him. 

“Tate, right?” she began casually, picking at her nails in an attempt to appear cool and nonchalant. 

He plucked out an earbud, “Huh?”

“Your name is Tate, right?” she repeated.

“Oh,” he took out the other earbud, “Yeah… I’m Tate. And you’re Y/N.”

Y/N nodded, giving him a small smile, “Yeah, I’m Y/N. You’re cute, Tate,” she was a shameless flirt, what could she say? She wanted him, and she was determined to have him. 

His cheeks flushed slightly, corners of his lips curling into a grin, “You’re pretty,”

____

It was a pretty easy start.

Two days after that, the two of them were going out on a date, and soon they were officially a couple. Not only was it an easy start, it was an amazing start. Tate was so attentive to her needs and desires, always getting her these little handmade gifts and spending as much time with her as possible. 

And that soon became a problem. 

As her phone rang, she let out a tired groan, sitting up in bed and rubbing at her burning eyes before blindly swatting at it before she was able to pull it off of the receiver, “Hello?” 

“Did I wake you up?” she recognized that voice anywhere. 

“...Yes, Tate, it’s four in the morning. Some people like to sleep,” Y/N replied. She usually wasn’t so nasty to him, but he’s been calling almost every single night at this point. She just wanted a good fucking sleep. 

He was silent for a moment, “...are you mad at me?”

“Of course I’m fucking mad, it’s four in the fucking morning. Go to sleep,” 

“But… But I need you,” that was always his line. Whenever he knew she was going to hang out with friends he didn’t like (which was all of them), suddenly he was calling her with his big ass Moterola that he desperately needed to upgrade, telling her he was depressed and anxious and needed to be with her. And every time she would fall for it, cancelling her plans and running to him, just to realize he only said that so she would go to him. 

She knew what he was doing, yet she still ran to him every time. Every. Single. Time. 

And like every single time, she sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose, “Come over. I’ll unlock my window,”

“Thank you, babe!” he hung up right away, and she placed her phone back onto the receiver with a grumble. She wasn’t going to get any sleep tonight. 

As she stood up and unlocked the window, she wondered what it was going to be this time. His mom was being an asshole again. His grades were slipping. His dark thoughts were taking over. 

Y/N cared for his mental health greatly, but sometimes it was too much for her. Sometimes she felt like his mental health struggle was negatively effecting her own. 

There was also the possibility there was nothing wrong at all and he just wanted her attention. He always wanted her attention. It was a bit suffocating at times. 

Within a few minutes, her window was opened and the shadow of Tate’s lanky form appeared before her. She didn’t bother turning on her bedside lamp, she was tired. “Hey, baby,”

“Hi, babe!” he said excitedly, immediately kicking off her shoes. 

She should be pissed off, she really should, but she found herself scooting over so he could slide into the bed next to her. He turned so his back faced her, signalling what he wanted. 

Arms circling his waist, she pulled his back to her chest, pressing a kiss to his shoulder, “So, what’s wrong?”

He hummed in response, grabbing one of her hands and interwining their fingers, “I just wanted to see you,”

“At four in the morning?” 

“Mhm,” he replied, “I missed you,”

“I see you everyday, love,” 

“And? I still missed you,” he said simply.

Y/N didn’t respond, already starting to fall back asleep. Until he tightly squeezed her hand to wake her up. “Hmmmm…?”

“Why were you talking to Todd today?”

“Huh?”

She couldn’t see, but he was pouting, “Todd. I saw you talking to him in the hallway,” 

“Oh,” she yawned, “Yeah. We were talking about a project we have coming up,”

“I don't like that you're talking to him,” he mumbled, releasing her hand so he could turn to face her, “Don't talk to him anymore,”

“Tate, babe, he was just asking some questions,”

“Sure,” he rolled his eyes, “Don't trust that fucker, he just wants to get in your pants. He's using that project as an excuse,”

“And how do you know that?” She mused, beginning to play with his hair.

“I just do. Stop talking to him,” he huffed, nuzzling into her neck, “Please?”

“Okay,” she knew an argument would come if she told him no, so she just left it at that.

She lost so many friends for him. 

Tate smiled, pressing a kiss to her skin, “Thank you, babe,” He looked down at their intertwined fingers, noticing she was still wearing some of her rings, “You slept with your rings on?”

“Mmm,” Y/N mumbled, starting to drift off again, “...was tired,”

And so he plucked the rings off of her fingers, smirking as he slid them onto his own. He always liked to borrow her stuff, she was sure he was the reason so many of her hoodies were missing. So him taking her rings didn’t bother her, despite the fact they were Tiffany rings. Expensive ones she had gotten for her birthday once. He would give them back, he always did. Eventually. 

She never got the rings back.

___

A few days passed, and within those few days, things changed drastically. 

Well, nothing really changed between them. It was how Y/N reacted to said things. 

She was already annoyed with Tate’s behavior. She hasn’t slept properly in days at this point. Whether he just wanted her attention or was genuinely struggling, she was the one who had to be there for him. 

Like right now. 

He was sobbing, curled up in her arms as they laid on her bed together once again. She felt awful for feeling this way. She felt awful for being annoyed. She hated seeing him so upset, and always tried her best to console him, always getting nowhere. It was draining. 

How much was too much? Y/N was constantly depressed because he was constantly depressed. How much more could she take? 

“Y/N…” he mumbled after a while, face still buried in her neck. 

“Yeah, baby?”

“Why won’t you comfort me anymore?” 

She paused, biting her bottom lip. She could feel his eyes on her as he tilted his head up slightly, his lip trembling and his face all red and blotchy. He was right, she had barely spoken since he had gotten there. Just rubbing his back in silence. 

When she didn’t respond, Tate sat up, “Y/N…”

“Hm?” she said dumbly.

“Y-You’re acting different,” he was starting to tear up again, “You’re acting different with me. What am I d-doing wrong?”

“Nothing, baby,” she just didn’t have it in her to defend herself. It was almost five thirty in the morning, she honestly just wanted him to fucking leave. 

His hands went to her shoulders, blunt nails digging into her skin, “What i-is it? What’s wrong with m-me? Just tell me!” 

Fuck. 

Why did she stay silent on her problems this whole time? Why didn’t she just tell him how she felt? Why put them both through this?

“I can’t do this anymore,” There. Done. She said it. 

And regretted it as soon as she saw his face completely crumble. 

“Wh-What?” Tate whispered, pulling away. His eyes looked wild, darting around the room as his chest rose and fell repeatedly. He was seconds away from hysterical. “I’m crying about my f-family problems and my depression an-and you decide you want to leave me?!” 

Well when you say it like that…

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. 

She groaned, pressing her face into her hands, “Tate-”

“-You’re not even calling me baby anymore!” he gasped. He scrambled off of the bed, looking down at her in both desperation and rage, “I didn’t do anything wrong! I thought you loved me!” 

“I do love you!” she whisper-yelled, not wanting to wake up her parents who would definitely be pissed if they found out Tate was in the room with her. “But am I not allowed to love myself too? This is stressful for me! I can’t do this anymore,” 

“Stressful for you, huh? Imagine how I feel,” he scoffed, “I’m the one going through it,” Crossing his arms over his chest, he began pacing the room, trying to hide the trembling in his hands. 

“But you always dump it on me! Don’t you ever think about how that affects me?” She could already feel another argument coming. They were arguing literally two days ago. 

“I always listen to you when you’re upset about s-something!” as he spoke, he pointed an accusing finger at her. Like she was the problem. “Why is it so hard for you to comfort me? Do you not care about me anymore?”

God she felt like crying now too. 

“I do care about you, Tate, but I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep hurting myself trying to help you,” she sighed, standing up as well. She reached out to him but he shrank away, as if she were poisonous. “I think it’s best we broke up. I’m so sorry,” she couldn’t even say an “it’s not you, it’s me,” because it entirely was because of him. 

He was hysterical now, tugging at his blonde hair in stress, “No! No, you can’t do this to me!” he shouted, definitely going to wake up the whole house at this point, “I can’t live without you!”

“Tate, please, don’t be like this-”

“No!” To her surprise, he swatted at the lamp on her nightstand, causing it to shatter, “If you leave me I’ll fucking kill myself, I swear to God. I’ll kill myself. And it’ll be all your fault!”

…what?

“You can’t be serious,” she gasped, “You’re being serious right now?! Trying to guilt-trip me into staying with you?”

“No! Fuck you!” he snapped, “I’m just telling you the truth! I’ll kill myself, you fucking bitch!” 

“What the hell is wrong with you?!” Y/N finally shouted. Tate was already marching towards the window as she yelled, finally letting out her own anger. “You’re not even fucking trying to fix anything! Fuck you!” 

There was a loud knock on her door, making her jump. Fuck. Someone was awake. She was fucked. 

“Get the fuck out,” she practically shoved him out of the window. 

“Y/N, what is going on in there?!” her mother called from the other side of the tour.

“Coming, Mom!” she called, watching as Tate climbed down the tree by her window. Once his feet touched the grass, he looked up at her, angrily giving two middle fingers. 

Things always ended like this. And they always started right back up when he knocks on her window the next day like he always fucking did, with a bouquet of flowers or vinyls of the artists she liked. 

She always took him back. 

Shit. 

___

He did not come knocking on her window.

He did not come with flowers or vinyls or chocolates or any sort of peace offerings. 

The relationship was truly over. 

She thought the first few days would be terrible. 

She thought she would spend each day sobbing in her room and forcing herself to go to school. She thought she would be in complete misery thinking about Tate and their ended relationship. 

That was far from the truth.

Even on the first day, she was like a brand new woman. 

There was no one clinging onto her the whole entire day. No one forcing her to not hang out with her own friends. And certainly no little bitch in her ear telling her to wake up in the middle of the fucking night. 

It was fucking amazing. 

And Tate was alive and well (or more, alive and pissed), still going to classes and being his brooding self. 

So she didn’t expect the news. 

Every year, she and her family would take a short road trip during the school year to her grandmother’s house for her birthday. This year was her 71st. 

Tate knew this. Perhaps he planned it all out on purpose. 

Perhaps he knew after Y/N’s grandmother blew out the candles and the happy family ate cake, Y/N would turn on the television in the living room, flicking through channels. 

And stumbling upon the news. 

Westfield Shooting - Shooter Identified!

What? She missed one fucking day of school and this happened?

“Mom! Look at this!” she exclaimed, beckoning her mother to the living room. Since she was seated next to her comatose father, she shook him awake. 

“Oh my,” her mother gasped, hand going to her mouth as she watched he incident, “Thank the Lord you weren’t there-”

Then they saw who the shooter was. 

Last year’s yearbook photo of a charming young man with curly blonde hair and cute dimples. Eyes almost black. Tate Langdon. 

Holy shit.

Yes, perhaps Tate did do this on purpose. Perhaps he did, because when Y/N returned home, she was gifted a note from Tate’s mother, Constance. It came as a shock to her, considering she and Constance didn’t get along, for the simple fact Constance and Tate did not get along. 

Yet Constance Langdon handed over a handwritten note from her son, saying it was for Y/N to read. 

And so she did. And cried.  

“Dear Y/N,

This is all your fault ♡”

____

[deadandtainted]

[girldeadsworld]

RAW NEXT QUESTION- He has absolutely no fucking right to be THIS fine

[tateelangdon]

[violetscardigan]

[viharmons]

my new tiktok with my tate funko pop LMFAO go away tate!!