#tate x reader

[evanpetersmybf]

Be mine?

Tate Langdon x female!reader

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?”

[bulletswithribbons]

Loving and fearless

TateLangdonxFem!reader // NSFW

Summary: You find out your boyfriend is a mass murderer. He's worried about what you will think of him but he never knew you weren't a good girl from the very start.

Warnings: Smut (obv), unprotected piv, sex with feelings, implied murder...

Word count: 1.7k

a/n: Ok so sorry I took really long to write a new fic I was working on a Part 2 for my Kai one but then thought of this. Had to write it down to satisfy my pookies since I didn't take so long writing it. Basically why it's short.

𝕱𝖚𝖑𝖑 𝖋𝖎𝖈 𝖚𝖓𝖉𝖊𝖗 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖈𝖚𝖙 ⋆⭒˚.⋆𝜗𝜚

“Are you scared?” He asks. He wasn’t trying to hide it, nor deny it. He just wanted you to accept it as it is. He was no saint, but so weren’t you. No sugarcoating things for this once at least.

You shook your head slowly, “no.” You said, and it wasn’t a lie. At least yet. You weren’t afraid of him, you knew him better than anyone. Or maybe that’s what you chose to believe. You didn’t want to change anything about him or live in a deluded world of your own thinking of him as someone he isn’t. As fucked-up as it sounds, you liked that psychopathic trait of his.

Tate tilts his head partly to the side, daring you to say that thing you were desperate to.

“I doubt it,” he replied, regret somehow dripping from his tone. You knew he didn’t regret shooting up his school nor all the murders he committed, rather of the way you found out. He had already apologized, what else would you need? Him to get on his knees and beg you to forgive him? He would gladly do that.

“I want you to embrace it,” you finally said, the thought lingering in your head for a while now. You just didn’t know how to express it without sounding like a weirdo. 

“Embrace it?” He repeats after you, confused, a hint of surprise in his voice.

You nod.

“You killed them. There’s nothing you can do about it anymore. You’re troubled Tate. Stop hiding that side and accept it as a part of you. You can’t run away from your past and you being trapped here actually proves my point.” Your tone was comforting, all loving. You were one of the very few –the only one– that actually cared about him in a non-twisted way. He wasn’t ready to lose that. He would never be.

“But would you accept it as a part of me? You want me to go around killing people and then come back to you so you can clean the blood of others from my own hands?” He asks, his voice quavering, a bit shaky and unclear, he was upset and you knew he's on the verge of crying.

And Bingo. There it is. Those poor souls, he doesn’t care about them, but rather what you would think. Nothing matters as long as you’re still there standing by his side. Was it unhealthy? Maybe. But for you it only made your relationship stronger.

“Isn’t that what you would like?” You ask, your hand darting to his face brushing his blonde strands of hair away from his face as you cup his cheek.

A single tear runs down his cheek as he smiles lightly. His dimples looked more adorable than ever. All he ever wanted was to be appreciated. And he is.

The sight of him taking two steps closer to you had your heart speeding up, even though he's your boyfriend you can't help but feel like a silly little girl with a silly little crush. Except it wasn't little, nor silly. His hand grips at your waist as he pulls you to him, getting rid of every inch that separates your bodies. His head tilts slightly before he attacks your face with his lips embracing yours in a hungry lustful open-mouthed kiss.

Your hands quickly find the back of his neck, pulling him even closer and deepening the kiss while his tongue pushes through and fights yours for domination.

He was completely teasing you, or maybe not, maybe he just craved you so bad. His covered erection was tempting your core, begging for release. One of his hands slides down your shirt and cups your boob, squeezing tightly. A soft moan escapes your lips and onto the kiss.

At that time, you thought maybe a somewhat evil spirit took over your boyfriend as he aggressively pinned you against the wall, too impatient to hop on the bed. But you know it was no evil spirit. There was no need to keep on finding why’s to his actions.

He yanks your shorts down to your knees then grips at your thigh lifting it up to his hip, probably to get better access. Meanwhile his other hand unzips his jeans and pulls them down along with his boxers freeing his rock hard dick. Yeah now it's confirmed that it was to gain better access. Tate always gets hard easily, that was a fact you knew. Whether it was a silly little cuddle session or you whispering the randomest topics in his ear. It didn’t bother you, you actually loved it. It enthralled you.

Your arms wrap around his neck while his breath fans against your nape. Each passing second your pussy screams for him to fuck the shit out of you even louder.

His digits found their way to your inner thigh, trailing toward your center. Once they reach your clit, his pointer finger runs up and down the thin soaked fabric of your underwear. He taps on the wet spot a few times, teasing you or maybe to later remember how desperate you were for him inside you. “This is my way of thanking you, y/n.” He whispers in your ear, your body shuddering at the sound of his voice, excitement surging through your entire temple. Every second passing by the atmosphere gets even hotter.

You nod, “mhm.”

His finger curls at the edge of your panties pulling it to the side, baring your pussy to him and the arousal glistening within.

Tate leans over you even closer, capturing your soft skin between his teeth sucking in deep; while he uses a hand to line his cock up to your dripping entrance. His tip caresses your sensitive bundle of nerves. “I’m not waiting any longer,” He mutters under his breath to your ear as he pushes himself deeper into your cunt and slams into you. 

Tate has never ever hidden the fact that he craves you desperately. You loved that he would kill for you but hated how you would too.

You let out a loud moan, if he didn’t know you any better he would’ve thought that was a scream for help. Your hand grabs a fistful of his hair. Your moan made him groan quietly. He loved the sound of you squirming beneath him, and even the sound of your voice when you talk about anything no matter what it was. He couldn’t stop himself, of course not since he couldn’t even wait to hear you screaming his name. Your legs curl around his hips as he thrusted in you deeper, moaning uncontrollably as he feels your tight warm wet walls wrapped around his thick length. “My cock.. Is pure love..” He breathes out. Your eyes hardly widen, Tate isn’t used to dirty talking. Not at all. If anything he was actually nice and making sure you’re ok nearly between every two thrusts. Unless he was jealous or upset with you. But mostly that’s it. Your eyes barely stay wide for 2 seconds before they roll to the back of your head once his tip hit a spot in you that made your moans louder than they already were. “Oh fuck, Tate!” You scream, He slides out slightly then back in forcefully. He didn’t recognize mercy, and your pussy wasn’t getting any of that. His cock pounding into you merciless, unsympathetically, inhumanly. All of the above. Abusing that same specific spot of yours. 

His intense tightening in his chest made him hungry for air as he breathed heavily, humping you remorselessly. Your pussy swallowing every inch of him and lubricating like crazy, your own arousal leaking down your pussy and out to your thighs. Such a slut you are for him. Problem is you were shameless about it.

Your grip on his hair tightens, holding on as hard as you can but making sure not to hurt him. You would never. Soft moans are whispered in your ear as he presses his mouth a little harsher against your skin, his fingers tightening on your thighs. His lips trailing kisses up and down your neck, leaving small bites here and there as he slowly makes his way up to your jaw. His hands slide up your thighs and stop at your clit, rubbing it as if his life depends on it, all the while his hips are pounding into you as fast as they can. You arch your back involuntarily immediately once you feel the contact. He groans softly as he feels your arch into his touch, his fingers going inhumanly faster than before. 

Seeing how it is, it wouldn't be long for you until you came.

Shockwaves of pure pleasure began to ripple throughout your body. Legs trembling and eyes rolling back. Your face was bright red and a wheezing sound came out of your mouth with every inhale. The perfect combination of his fingers stroking your clit and the fast paced abuse on your cunt was enough to make you see stars. He was chasing his own release and you were begging for yours. You knew you were close.. Real close.. “Tate.. Please.. I’m so fucking close..” You whimper, not knowing what exactly you were begging him for. Tate knows your body well enough to know you were close, he speeds up. Judging by his breathing, you can tell he was getting tired. You let out your moans freely as you feel your orgasm crashing down. A complete mess leaking down your thighs. You can’t hold your back arch anymore but it didn't matter, waves of ecstasy and euphoria taking over your body. Tate wasn't done yet, and although your lips were already burning up, you didn't protest. “Hmph..I love you,” He moaned in between thrusts as they were getting erratic, feeling you cum around his cock was enough for him. But that didn’t stop him from abusing your swollen red cunt until he was fully finished. Tate thrusts into you for a moment longer before you feel his ejaculate drowning your pussy breathing heavily, his release splaying across your walls in ropes. Tears had stained your cheeks.

Tate had you still pinned against the wall, with your legs wrapped around his hips and his hands grabbing your thighs. His now softened dick still in your abused pussy. Why isn’t he pulling out yet? This is the first time he lasted this long. Usually he doesn’t stay so long.

His head was resting on your shoulder, nose burried into your neck. His breathing slowed down steadily and went back to normal.

It felt weirdly comforting.. Him being so close, you didn’t even want him to pull out. Your legs still crossed behind your boyfriend’s back.

“You want me to pull out?” He whispers to you lovingly as he brushes a strand of hair away from your face and tugs it behind your ear.

“No, let’s stay this way for a while..” Your arms wrap around his neck, hugging him close. You can feel him nodding.

[nolovelingers]

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?

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

[with-every-piece-of-me]

Sweetheart; Tate Langdon x Fem!Reader

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

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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)

[americanwh0rerstory]

hi!! I hope u r doing well💗

Could u maybe write a Tate smut with virgin!reader?

Love your work.

Just a lil’ bit [tate langdon]

Tate x virgin!reader

SUMMARY: reader loses her virginity to tate, the ghost who’s been ‘stalking’ her ever since she moved in

CONTENT WARNING: stalking (sorta), tate watching reader without her knowledge, masturbation mentioned, unprotected p in v, fingering, slow sex.

A/N: thx for the request, i hope you enjoy it! pt 2 of drunk!peter is also being made, anyone waiting for that it will be here soon

NSFW BELOW. CONSUMPTION IS DONE AT OWN FAULT

ever since you moved into the murder house, you had been feeling like you’re being watched. it was a strange feeling, one you couldn’t shake off no matter how many curtains you closed, doors you shut, and no matter how much you curled under the blanket.

eventually you met tate, the sweetest boy you had ever known. you didn’t know he had been watching you, you didn’t know how he’d palm himself through his jeans whilst watching you shower, you didn’t know how he’d jack off watching you sleep, you didn’t know he was dead.

he was your first for a lot of things: first boyfriend, first kiss, first hug, first… well that was about it. that’s all you had done.

he lay beside you in bed, rolled onto his side so he could look at you. he idly traced circles on the exposed skin of your hip whilst he softly spoke to you.

“y’know, it must be hard watching all those romance movies you like” he murmurs into your ear, his warm breath ticking your skin. “seeing those couples getting it on yet you’ve never gotten it on” tate continues, looking at you through his lashes.

he gave you enough time to respond but when you didn’t, he decided to press his lips against yours. his tongue dominated your own in a passionate kiss, causing you to let out an involuntary moan in response. he took that as a sign to keep going, that you were enjoying it.

with blind expertise, he pulled your trousers down and began rubbing small but fast circles over your clit through your panties; the foreign sensation causing you to mewl softly.

“you like that?” he mumbled into your ear, the pressure increasing.. “so so wet. that all for me?” his voice sent shivers down your spine, heading straight to your pulsating clit.

the new and strange feelings flooded your senses with pleasure, so much so that you was already drunk from the euphoria and you hadn’t even came yet

“might hurt a little, you can take it right? good girl” tate said in his usual hushed tone before sliding two fingers into your wetness and making scissor motions to loosen you up slightly.

his fingertips rubbed against your g-spot, eliciting sweet and guttural moans from within you; those noises brought a smirk to tate’s face and urged him to continue

your cunt clenched around his fingers, oozing your wetness all over him which only prompted him to pull out and lick his fingers clean

“ain’t done yet” he states in between licks. his words brought an air of dominance to him which only made your pussy weep even more. but before you could protest to the how empty feeling, he began to slowly push his cock into you inch by inch.

he was girthy and around 6.5 inches, a size you thought would’ve been impossible to take, but he made it happen. using your wetness and his precum as lube, he pushed in until he was balls deep and then paused to give you a moment to adjust

“this good?” he asks, adjusting you so your legs were on his shoulders “gonna start moving now, but just tell me if it’s too much”

he laced his fingers with your own before beginning to make slow but deep thrusts, his hips making the most subtle movements to get you used to the feeling.

it felt like a perfect blend of pain and pleasure tearing you apart and splitting you inside out. but the way every stroke hit that internal sweet spot numbed the pain and turned it into sinful bliss

his thrusts continued and slowly got faster the more you got used to the feel of sex, slowly getting faster and slightly sloppy with how he was teetering on the edge. he held back as long as he could, but ultimately spilled and released steaming ropes of cum into your cunt, pornographicly moaning your name at a shamelessly loud volume.

“fuck, you did so good f’ me” he pants breathlessly, pulling out she carefully scooping you up into his arms. “c’mon, i’ll run you a bath”

[slut4celebs]

Shut Up and Drive

Tate McRae x Reader

Word Count: 1,012

Trigger Warnings: bad formula one driver writing bc i have never watched it before lol, fluff to rot your brain, suggestive comments

Request / Synopsis: "Tate X F1 driver 👀👀" In which Tate McRae and her girlfriend get caught kissing and their relationship gets outed by the media.

If you're looking to make your own request, please request: here.

There was space behind the track that was always secluded. Sounds were drowned out by the whirring of drills and other noises that were typical in an auto shop. A few other drivers would pass by, but no one messed with each other. It was a private space for everyone. Which is why (Y/n) was currently pressed against the wall, Tate leaning against her with a wide grin overtaking her face. The two hadn't outed themselves yet, not ready to face the entirety of two different fanbases ganging up on them. For now it was their private relationship without cameras flashing around them. It was just Tate and her girlfriend, (Y/n), the spectacular F1 driver.

It was nice, having private moment like these. Of course, the two girls gave off best friends rather than girlfriends, so they never had to particularly hide. However, they couldn't do what they were doing now as Tate raised (Y/n) visor playfully. "God, you look so fucking hot in your uniform," Tate stated as she let her hazel eyes search her girlfriend's eyes. (Y/n) seemed to catch the hint as she pulled off her helmet, tucking it under her arm as her hands cupped Tate's cheeks. They hadn't expected to be caught lip locking in their private area. An area that had provided a shield for them to flirt and be themselves many times before. They just hadn't noticed a lone member of the paparazzi having made it into the F1 driver's private area.

(Y/n) pulled away, a broad grin on her lips. "I have to head out," she said, unable to stop herself from immediately kissing the pout on Tate's lip before asking for another. "One more kiss for good luck?" She asked softly, receiving more than 'one more kiss.' The two gave each other time to pull away before (Y/n) winked, blew a kiss, and headed over to where her pit crew were located for test laps. She didn't make it far before hearing a 'Be careful' and an 'I love you,' to which she responded with two thumbs up and an 'I love you, too.'

"Welcome Formula 1 fans! Tonight is going to be a great night as we witness great drivers race in our annual Monaco Grand Prix! We have racers like Charles Leclerc, (Y/n) (L/n), and Lando Norris, just to name a few. This race will be like any other we've seem before. For one, this is the best lineup of drivers in history! For two, this annual race is known to be the biggest and cause the most pressure." The announcer called as (Y/n) shook out her nerves. Tate was in the stands, giving (Y/n) a thumbs up before turning it into a finger gun. Under the visor, (Y/n) smiled as Tate fake shot and her hand landed over her heart. That was their thing before every race. "The drivers are getting ready and into their vehicles, heading to the lineup."

(Y/n) took her cue, noticing Tate nod encouragingly before her best friends, Olivia Rodrigo and Iris Apatow, began chanting (Y/n)'s name. (Y/n) had to admit that Tate had the best friends. Whenever (Y/n) raced, Tate took them along, and they became her small fandom, though that has now grown immensely. Still, their voices were the only ones that (Y/n) heard before she got into her car and prepared to race. She moved to her spot in the lineup, closing her eyes for a moment as she listened to her pit crew's encouraging words. Taking in a breathe, she opened them again. The count down has now started… Three… Two… One… GO! GO! GO!

(Y/n) weaved her way through the other drivers, claiming her spot in first place. After what felt like endless, stress filled laps, (Y/n) drove head to head with Charles Leclerc. However, in one final drift, she made her way through the finish line. Once in the safety zone, she got out, hugging her pit crew before her arms wrapped around Olivia, Iris, and, lastly, Tate, who got a longer hug than the two. It took everything in her not to kiss Tate whose smile was so bright, she felt her heart squeeze. Tate's smile was better than winning any Grand Prix.

Before (Y/n) could say anything to Tate, a fan interrupted them. She was about thirteen, adorned braces and a baseball cap with (Y/n)'s sponsor on it. "So, you two are dating!" She stated excitedly. (Y/n)'s brows furrowed as she turned to Tate, who looked just as confused. The young fan then showed them the post from one of the cheap celebrity news sites where they typically post fake news. With that said, it was hard to deny that they were together from the picture of them kissing underneath 'TATE MCRAE GIVING F1 DRIVER, (Y/N) (L/N), A GOOD LUCK KISS BEFORE THE RACE.' "You two are literally my celebrity idols, and this only adds to it." The teen then proceeded to ask for a picture, to which they accepted.

"I guess the cats out of the bag," Tate said, slowly slipping her hand into (Y/n)'s, who gave it a tight squeeze. "That means I can give you more than a congratulatory hug." In one swift motion, (Y/n) was pulled into a kiss by Tate, to which she immediately reciprocated. Her heart was thudding in her chest as she realized that not only had she won the Monaco Grand Prix, but she had Tate by her side. As much as keeping their privacy was nice, this next step only further solidified their relationship, causing (Y/n) to feel a strange sense of stableness in the whole ordeal. She knew that there were pictures being taken, but she didn't care at that moment. She only cared about one thing in that moment. That Tate McRae was in her arms. Tate far outweighed any trophy or Grand Prix that (Y/n) could ever even imagine winning.

[belphegorsheart]

HIS TYPE • multifandom headcanons

characters. tate langdon, anakin skywalker, tom riddle, billy loomis.

cw. violence, death, murder, toxic relationships, slutshaming, toxic masculinity etc cause they are all evil people. some nsfw discussion.

TATE LANGDON

tate is a person who feels like an outsider, someone who is repulsed by normal people. they scare him, and he does not understand them. he can only really be attracted to someone who isn’t “conventional” or “ordinary”.

and while it may appear to be the most important thing to him, secretly, there is something that holds even more weight than that for tate. and that’s bravery.

most people are afraid of tate, for good reason. he shot up his school and he has hurt and killed even more. he’s a ghost, and even outside his violent tendencies he is simply a cruel person. he’s enough to scare most people, and tate is used to people running away when they really know all facets of him.

one of his worst fears is being abandoned, rejected. so if you were truly brave, truly fearless— enough to not run away when you become familiar and close with him, even the worst things he does, even the horrors he faces on the daily in that house, that would make him love you.

a “more cowardly” person wouldn’t be able to love him completely, in his eyes. they’d turn tail and run the second things become frightening or difficult. so he wants someone who he knows can stand up for themselves and has a bit of edge to them, even though he likes protecting them. he likes testing that bravery and seeing if you truly won’t be frightened away by him.

looks don’t matter that much to him. and he wouldn’t judge you based on your appearance, it’s your character and personality that genuinely matters to him. though he does appreciate ‘pretty’ faces, like anyone, but only if they have genuine intellect or worth.

tate also enjoys the company of someone with similar interests to him, unconventional music and style. he’s not interested in vanity or anything he considered shallow and stupid. he’d like someone who is real and genuine, who isn’t trying to conform or please anyone.

he doesn’t like popular people. no one dumb or ditzy, he’d never touch a bimbo with a ten foot pole. he doesn’t want someone who is “slutty” to him either, or coarse or vulgar, like hayden for instance. it’s not that he desires for the person he’s with to be innocent at all, but he doesn’t like the kind of person who just “throws themselves around”. he most prefers virgins.

ANAKIN SKYWALKER

the first thing that catches his attention is appearance. it’s not that he’s shallow or anything, it’s just that it’s the first thing he notices. someone who appears unusually beautiful will immediately draw him in.

but it’s more than that. it’s an energy. someone who exudes warmth, life, who looks angelic even. then, of course, he cares about intellect.

anakin wants an equal, someone who can keep up with him during discourse, regardless of if they agree with him or not. he likes kind people, gracious, charitable, respectful.

but what matters to him most of all? his favorite quality in a person? when someone has passion, fire in them. even if it is usually well tempered… he loves when it all bursts out, even if it manifests through anger. those may even be some of his favorite moments. he likes to bring strong emotions out of people.

someone who is moved by the struggles of others, who has genuine emotion and care for the welfare of those around them. who stands and fights for justice, whether that be diplomatically or through “aggressive negotiations”.

he’s a “forever” person, once he loves someone he loves them for the rest of his life and simply never stops. he never loves anyone else afterward.

he does secretly like someone he can rescue. even if they can stand up for themselves, he still likes being there to catch the damsel in distress. he enjoys being in the role of the jedi knight in shining armor.

he also likes someone tolerant enough to put up with his impulsivity. someone who can be empathetic and compassionate toward him no matter what, who accepts him through everything he does and is.

anakin couldn’t be attracted to a deranged or unhinged person. or someone who couldn’t see the good in him. he wants to believe in the good in himself, and he desires a partner who will validate that feeling.

he falls in love very immediately as well, anakin forms his impression on someone in the first few moments of meeting them. even if he has only met you once, he will love that person for the rest of his life no matter how little time he has with them.

TOM RIDDLE

he doesn’t really have a “type” by any normal standard. he never experienced romantic attraction before. he has disdain for everyone around him, and they are only valuable to him as means to an end, or pawns in a larger game.

he has no love or care for anyone, that is his condition due to the nature of his conception and his upbringing in the orphanage. but if he were to take someone on, in a “romantic” sense, even though he doesn’t feel love, he does have ideal characteristics in mind if he were to have a “significant other”.

for one, they’d have to be a pureblood. they’d have to be a slytherin. and they would have to have genuine talent in the wizarding world, talent that can be weaponized by him.

he must be assured that you are fully committed and loyal to him and only him. he isn’t “possessive” per se, because he doesn’t truly care about you enough to genuinely want your affections. his reason for wanting you to be loyal to him and only him is rooted in logic; if you are committed to him, he will be able to consistently rely on you to do his bidding.

they should share his values of pureblood supremacy and all his morals. they should obey all his orders immediately without question and have no issue serving him. in fact, if he were “with” someone, he would see them more as a servant. he would not respect you as an equal or partner, though he may butter you up and give you false praise, enough for you to do as he desires, he will take away his affection as soon as he feels you’ve done something deserving of punishment.

he doesn’t want someone daft at his side, but not intelligent enough to see through him completely or know better. he doesn’t respect anyone enough to engage in discourse because he believes he is the only person who truly understands the world. he does not want someone who would challenge him or try to speak on his level, but rather, someone who can be quiet, and agree with him at all times.

tom hates the kind of person who could embarrass him or make him look bad. someone impulsive or rash would anger him greatly. he would like someone who heels at his command, who only breathes once he has permitted it.

he would want someone whose identity he can easily mold and shape, who exists only for him and his desires. though he experiences no real attraction or emotion for you at all, he would acknowledge that you are of service to him. however, if he found that someone else could serve him better, he would quickly replace you with them, regardless of all the loyalty you have given him.

they would also be someone that makes him appear more respectable as well, who props him up and enhances his presence and standing in the wizarding world.

his most ideal person sees him as a superior and acknowledges him as the only person worth anything. if you even think of comparing yourself to him as an equal, he wouldn’t let you anywhere near him.

BILLY LOOMIS

if billy were asked about his type, he’d absolutely immediately talk about physical appearance first. body type and face. he’s a psychopath, sure, and he has no sense of morality, but he still enjoys sex. he is a teenage boy, after all. he wants to be with someone physically attractive.

billy is very popular in school. he’s a quarterback/jock type, and he is fawned over by lots of girls. in the bathroom, they even talk about his “bubble butt”. he enjoys attention and he would like being fawned over, though it may make him respect a girl less.

he doesn’t give a shit about sidney. he cheats on her, we see him flirt in the video store with other girls and was fucking a girl on the side which resulted in samantha carpenter. since he doesn’t really respect anybody, if he were seeing someone, it would be a physical release. sidney doesn’t put out for him. so he may seek someone on the side to fulfill him.

he doesn’t really respect women. despite disliking promiscuous or “slutty” women, he will take no issue in going after someone who is “easy” simply for the sake of his own entertainment, or to satisfy him.

he’d love someone who also enjoys horror movies in the same way that he does, who is genuinely knowledgeable about horror movies, and people who are even aware of the production process. he likes explaining it to people, so someone who will listen intently to him while he talks about films will also get his attention.

if you understand all his horror movie references, and are witty enough to fire one back? heart eyes on his part.

while he will happily go to a ditzy girl for physical pleasure, he wouldn’t respect her at all. he might even kill a ‘bimbo’ like that once he’s done with her. he likes the final girl archetype, so to speak. he doesn’t respect women who give it up easily, he sees them as stupid bimbos that deserve to be chopped up, like maureen for instance, but he considers women who don’t do anything to be prudes like sidney. either way he couldn’t be completely satisfied with you… if you were a woman.

considering his relation to stu, and all the hints in the films after as well, he may actually be more interested in a man than a woman, though he will not allow himself to explore this completely, there may be more real emotions toward men for him than with women. he’s very repressed and probably has a lot of internalized homophobia.

if you were a man that was “his type”, he may feel some modicum of attraction toward you (as much as billy is capable of genuinely feeling, at least), but never properly admit it.

he would enjoy someone who would go along with his behavior, he might be most interested in someone who would allow him to harm them, or who knew about what he did and was still attracted to him.

he would most likely be with someone who is popular as well, or at least who isn’t disliked or unpopular. he doesn’t hang out in circles of “losers”, and would likely never even notice someone who isn’t on his level.

since he has no trouble seducing people, he might actually enjoy someone who plays “hard to get”. he loves the feeling of chasing someone, hunting them down. he likes feeling like he’s won someone.

billy likes having an accomplice. although he might use you to pin everything on later, he’ll enjoy you before he does. billy is a very good liar, and he may make false promises about how “you two will survive” and how “you’re his partner”, but in reality, he isn’t capable of care when it comes to you. he has no real loyalties and he doesn’t care. but he gets off on the idea of having someone who will help him on his murder sprees.

nothing will please him though. and, ironically, he will respect you even less for knowing about his true nature and liking him, even though it secretly pleases him. “you’re so pathetic and desperate that you’d end up in love with a psychopath”.

[irl-w0lverine]

.ೃ࿐rubber can be used for alot more.ೃ࿐

pairing : Tate Langdon x reader

Warnings : SMUT!!!, the rubber suit, poor writing, smut with no plot basically, probably out of character

A/n : im so sorry for pushing this fic off until now i genuinely keep falling asleep and got ill with a cold + food poisoning 😭🙏

This is for the anon that requested it <3

IF YOUR UNDER 18 ITS YOUR FAULT FOR READING BEYOND THIS POINT

"Oh shit tate! Fucking slow down!" you yelp, the sound of the black, glossy rubber suit he's wearing drowning out your pleas.

Tates hips move at a fast rhythm, pounding into your tight hole. Your hands grip the arm of the couch, your nails creating scrapes on the blood red velvet. Why didnt tate just fuck you on the couch instead of bending you over it? That question may never be answered.

"Holy shit! Fuck!" is all tate can huff out, a mix of 'good girl' and other praises mixed in under his breath. "keep that pretty little ass up like that. Your doing so well" his hands kneading each of your cheeks like bread dough.

His lips leave a trail of peppered kisses down your shoulder and spine, kissing all the way back up to the nape of you neck when he physically cant get any lower.

"Tate please! Im so fuckin' close!" you squeal as he hits the plushy spot inside of you, your walls throbbing around him.

"Go on. I wanna see it dripping all over my cock." his face burried in your hair, his nails leaving crecent like marks dug into your hips.

With one more thrust, your seeing white. Your vision going blury as you squeeze your eyes (and thighs) shut, a loud whimper escaping your slightly parted lips as your walls tighen around him, making his movents stiff and shaky before shooting thick ropes of him cum into you, painting your insides white.

"ill clean this up" he says quietly, plopping you down onto the couch and pressing a gentle kiss into your forehead

He comes back a few minutes later with a towel and some water, snuggling up besides you on the couch as you wrap and arm around his shoulder.

"i wasnt too rough.. Right?"

A/n : sorry for poor writing, i know this fic will flop anyways but its best to post it and hope for the best!

Thank you for reading! <3

[haytan]

eyes on you

tate mcrae x fem!reader

۶ৎ content: based on this ask, you get hurt before a show, nothing serious but enough to worry tate

۶ৎ warnings: fluff

۶ৎ word count: 1455

“i’m so excited,” tate says, smiling as she walks down the stairs beside you. “but in a good way, you know? i can’t wait to perform the new choreography.”

you smile, her excitement infectious. “the one you’ve been rehearsing for weeks and didn’t even let me see a tiny bit?”

she chuckles. “that’s the one. and trust me,” she steps in front of you, walking backward with that mischievous grin of hers, “it’ll be worth the wait.”

you laugh softly, but before you can respond, your foot slips awkwardly on the last step. the twist is subtle, but enough to make a small gasp escape your lips as your weight shifts the wrong way.

tate stops instantly, grabbing your arm firmly. “hey, are you okay?”

your ankle throbs for a second, but you shake your head. “yeah, just twisted it a little.”

her eyes narrow, unconvinced. “can you put weight on it?”

you test it, feeling the dull ache, but nothing too unbearable. tate, however, is already holding onto your waist, ready to stop you from taking another step.

“it’s just a little scare, baby. nothing major. come on, you have a performance to do.”

just as tate opens her mouth to protest, someone from backstage calls for her attention, telling all the dancers to head to the back of the stage. she rolls her eyes, clearly frustrated. the last thing she wants is to leave you alone right now.

and, of course, you notice. “tate, baby, i’m fine.”

she pouts, still looking at you with caution. “okay, okay. but if you need anything, just call me, and i’ll carry you straight to bed.”

you raise an eyebrow, feeling a bit better. “to bed?”

“hm, i—” she giggle awkwardly. “i meant, to rest.”

you chuckle “i know what you meant.”

she gives you a playful smile, still holding your waist. “i’m just saying, if you need anything, i’m here.”

tate looks at you for a moment, her gaze lingering as if she’s still trying to gauge whether you’re truly okay. then, with a reluctant sigh, she lets go of your waist.

“tate! we need you here!” a voice calls from backstage.

she sighs again, clearly reluctant, and glances at you one last time, as if to give you one final warning. “i really have to go…”

you smile softly, trying to reassure her. “go crush it, baby.”

her eyes scan your face one more time, as if she needs to be sure you’re really okay. then, without another word, tate gently cups your face in her hands, her thumbs brushing against your skin.

“call me if you need anything,” she whispers.

and without any further warning, she leans in and presses her lips to yours in a soft, quick kiss. when she pulls away, there’s a playful gleam in her eyes, but also a lingering trace of concern.

“are you gonna be okay?” she asks.

you’re still processing the kiss, but you manage a smile. “yeah, i’ll be fine.”

she bites her lip, as if she wants to say more, but the voice calling for her once again makes her turn. she gives you a final glance and rushes backstage.

you release a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding and lean against the railing, testing your ankle once more. it still aches a bit, but nothing that would stop you from showing up to your girlfriend’s performance.

…

the crowd is electric, voices blending into a wave of cheers and excitement as the stage lights flash in rhythmic patterns. the bass vibrates through the floor, and for a moment, you almost forget about the dull ache in your ankle.

then, tate steps onto the stage.

even with the other dancers around her, she commands attention effortlessly. the first beats of the song hit, and she moves with precision and confidence, every step reflecting the weeks of rehearsals she refused to let you see. and now, watching her, you understand why—she wanted this moment to be perfect.

your lips curl into a proud smile as she flows through the routine, each movement sharp yet fluid. the audience sings along, their voices echoing through the venue, but your focus stays on her.

and then, just when you think you’ve seen it all, tate locks eyes with you.

it’s subtle at first, just a flicker of recognition, but then—oh.

that smile. that shift in her energy. her movements take on a new, deliberate edge, her body rolling with the beat in a way that feels… intentional.

your breath catches as she executes a particularly suggestive move, one you’re almost certain wasn’t in the original choreography. the way she smirks afterward confirms your suspicion.

she’s teasing you.

your face heats up, and you shake your head with a soft laugh, but you can’t look away. she’s breathtaking—strong, graceful, completely in her element. and she knows exactly what she’s doing to you.

as the final notes hit, tate lands her last pose, chest rising and falling with the exertion of the performance. the crowd erupts into applause, but even in the chaos, her gaze finds yours once more.

and this time, her expression says it all:

told you it’d be worth the wait.

...

after the show, excitement still lingers in the air. from inside the dressing room, you can still hear the muffled cheers of the crowd, the hurried footsteps of stagehands, and the laughter of dancers celebrating a performance well done.

tate appears a moment later, breathless, her skin glistening with sweat, chest rising and falling as she tries to steady her breathing. her hair is slightly damp, strands sticking to her forehead, and her lips are parted as she takes in gulps of air.

the moment her eyes land on you, the post-performance rush fades into the background.

“how’s your ankle?” she asks immediately, stepping closer, still catching her breath.

you smile, amused. “i’m fine.”

she doesn’t buy it. “let me see.”

before you can protest, her arm is already around your waist, guiding you toward a nearby bench. you sit down, and tate, not satisfied, lowers herself to her knees in front of you, her hands hovering near your foot as she inspects your ankle with the kind of gentle focus that melts any remaining tension in the air.

“baby,” you sigh, biting back a smile, “i can stand, i swear.”

she narrows her eyes, unconvinced, but lets out a dramatic sigh before finally giving in. “fine. but if you so much as wince, i’m carrying you out of here.”

you laugh softly as she flops down beside you with a groan. she pulls off her dance shoes, tossing them to the side and stretching out her legs with a sigh.

“god, my feet are killing me,” she mutters, letting her head fall back against the wall.

you smirk. “that’s what you get for showing off.”

she lifts her head, brows furrowing in mock offense. “excuse me?”

“oh, don’t play innocent,” you nudge her knee with yours. “that little move in the middle of the routine? the very suggestive one?”

tate tilts her head, feigning confusion. “i have no idea what you’re talking about.”

you scoff. “right. and i imagined the way you looked straight at me when you did it?”

her lips twitch into a slow, knowing smirk. “huh. must’ve been a coincidence.”

you shake your head, laughing. “you’re ridiculous.”

tate hums in agreement, watching you for a moment before her expression softens. her hand finds yours, fingers tracing absent patterns on your palm. “seriously, though. you sure you’re okay, baby?”

the concern in her voice tugs at something warm in your chest. you squeeze her hand lightly. “yeah. i’m okay.”

her shoulders relax just a little, as if she finally believes you. and then, without the nervousness of earlier, she leans in, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to your lips. there’s no rush, no hesitation—just warmth, exhaustion, and the quiet thrill of being close.

when she pulls away, her forehead rests lightly against yours. “i meant what i said earlier, you know.”

you blink, still a little dazed. “hmm?”

she grins, pulling back just enough to meet your eyes. “about carrying you to bed.”

you groan, laughing. “tate—”

“too late, i offered. no take-backs.”

and before you can protest, she’s already shifting, arms looping around you like she’s actually considering it.

you yelp, squirming away with a laugh. “okay, okay! i take it back! my ankle hurts, but not that much.”

she chuckles, finally relenting. “fine. but i’m still keeping an eye on you.”

you shake your head, but the truth is—you don’t really mind.

not one bit.

i love that whenever i write something for tate it's always really quick, it just comes naturally to mind

thanks for reading <3

back to nav

[dont-look-behind]

dating headcanons | tate langdon (sfw/nsfw)

• leaves notes and doodles on the chalkboard for you

• makes you a mixtape with songs that remind him of you

• absolutely loves when you play with his hair

• follows you everywhere, privacy just doesn't exist anymore

• hums you your favorite songs when you can't sleep

• notices every single detail about you, from the way you act when you're sad to the way you like to have your coffee

• takes you out on dates every halloween

• lets you paint his nails but it has to be black polish

• he's a disaster in the kitchen, so he'd ask Moira to bake you cookies and chocolate cake when you're sad or on your period

• if he was alive he'd definitely be the type to threaten to kill himself if you leave him

• praise him "a good boy" and kiss his neck, he'll go crazy

• whimpers so much during sex that you have to kiss him to shut him or cover his mouth

[evanpetersmybf]

All he asked for was you

Tate Langdon x female!reader

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

Genre: ANGST!! and some smut

Word count: 5,104

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

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

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

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ཐི ♡ ཋྀ

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

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

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

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

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

Nevertheless, he couldn’t stay like this.

He had to do something real fast.

Today, 18:40

You were supposed to arrive at 19:00.

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

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

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

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

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

He loved you.

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

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

19:00

A knock on the door.

You arrived.

“DAMN IT!” 

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

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

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

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

Another knock.

19:07

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

You got the best of him. 

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

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

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

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

He was way too sweet.

Only if you knew.

Four weeks before today…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Who. Is. He.

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

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

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

Tate was insecure 24/7.

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

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

Three weeks before today…

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

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

“Tate!”

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

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

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

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

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

Two weeks before today.

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

Probably a big mistake.

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

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

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

One week before today…

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

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

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

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

Today, 16:00

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

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

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

18:00

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Dude, calm down!

“NO! I fucking won’t!”

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

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

“Y/N. Y/N doesn’t deserve you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

18:30

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

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

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

Tate didn’t have any mercy.

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

18:38

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

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

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

19:10

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Tate, ‘m gonna cum! I-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You froze. Maybe it was red paint? 

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

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

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

“What’s what?”

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

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

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

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

“CALM DOWN, PLEASE!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Bullshit!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He couldn’t breathe. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Monday morning, 11:05

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

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

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

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

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

08:00

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

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

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

10:40

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

11:15

You went downstairs to find your family apparently mourning you.

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

Eventually, they explained to you what happened.

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

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

No, it couldn’t be possible. 

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

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

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

11:25

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

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

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

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

He became your biggest regret.

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

[livingdreams97]

Tate McRae -- "Great Coincidence"

Tate McRae x Male reader/oc

Summary: Two people from two different worlds, one from the world of sports and the other from the world of entertainment. Two people who meet by fate and realize they have something in common.

Words: 3.264

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Masterlist

POV You

Being part of the team that won the Stanley Cup this year has been my biggest dream. Ever since I can remember, my biggest dream was to be a professional hockey player and win the Stanley Cup at least once.

What I didn't expect was for that dream to come true in my first season in the NHL, much less right after graduating from college.

But all I can think about as my team raises the big cup in the air, as confetti falls onto the court and the fans celebrate at the top of their lungs , is that I have achieved my dream.

I barely had time to take off my helmet and mouth guard before they put a champions cap with the team logo on my head and the celebration began.

From the moment Aleksander the captain, or Sasha as he is called in the team, raises the cup and the celebration begins until I am at home everything is a blur.

I guess it's because of the excitement and adrenaline of winning. What I do remember is the interviews and shows that came after winning.

With the win and the interviews, my followers on social media increased exponentially in just one day. This overwhelmed me a lot, as I didn't expect so many people to start following me on social media.

But that wasn't the most surprising thing.

The most surprising thing has been the calls my representative has been making me for the last two months, telling me about all the clothing and product brands that want to work with me.

But the best thing of all, without a doubt, is that I have been able to celebrate and share this important moment in my life with my family. Above all with my niece Lucy, who has not wanted to take off her team jersey since I won and every person she meets on the street tells her that her uncle has won the cup.

Which is incredibly sweet to me , but very annoying to my older sister who is the one who has to figure out how to take off her sweater to wash it and the one who tries to shut her up when they are out and about.

Speaking of my sister, I'm on a call with her and from the voice she's using, I know she wants to ask me something.

--Call Emma--

- What can I say, you are her favorite uncle and she idolizes you sooo much. - she exaggerates with an overly sweet voice.

- I'm her only uncle.- I remind her with obviousness. - Your husband is an only child and you have me and Mia. So I'm the only uncle Lucy has.- I laugh amused.

- And what does that have to do with you being her only uncle, with you being her favorite and the one she idolizes the most? - she asks me with a certain angry tone of voice.

- Nothing, I was just pointing it out.- I answer with disinterest.

- Back to the main topic.- she says in a more cheerful voice. -When are you coming to see your niece? She adores you and misses you terribly, because she hasn't seen you since we went to see the cup final in June.- she asks curiously.

- I'm not sure, I'm kind of busy right now with interviews and sponsorships.- I answer, letting out a tired sigh.

- I don't think that going away for a weekend will do anything to you. - she comments with disinterest.

- Emma, what do you want? - I ask directly, knowing my sister very well and knowing that she wants something from me.

- Why do I have to want something to talk to my little brother ? - she asks offended.

- Because we know each other and I know when you want to ask me something and when you don't.- I answer her sincerely. - I'm not that innocent 7-year-old boy anymore that you used as your servant when you were 16.- I remind her with some annoyance.

- Don't exaggerate either, you were not my servant and you are very bad at playing the victim.- she defends herself immediately.

- I remember all the times you asked me to bring you something from the kitchen to your room, or from your room to wherever you were at home. Or when I would carry your backpack to your room when you got home? - I ask her, remembering some of the things she made me do.

- Okay, okay, maybe I took advantage of you a little when you were little.- she admits with a sigh. - But that has nothing to do with the situation now.- she assures me calmly.

- So you're not going to ask me for anything ? - I asked her ironically.

-No.- she answers immediately. -Well yes, but it's not for me.- she retracts immediately causing me to laugh.

- What do you need from me? - I asked with a smile at my older sister's attitude.

- I need you to come to Chicago this weekend.- she asks me and I open my eyes in surprise, thinking that the favor would be to send Lucy a new sweater or something like that.

- I can't do that on such short notice.- I immediately tell my sister.

- I know it's very sudden, but believe me, if you weren't my only option I wouldn't be asking you.- she assures me with some stress in her voice.

- But why do you need me to go to Chicago this weekend? - I asked her, confused by the request.

- Because they told me today that my shift at the Hospital has changed.- she begins to tell me. -But I already had plans for this Saturday afternoon with Lucy and Mia to go to a concert, but with my new shift I can't take them.- she sighs with some guilt.

- Wait a minute, is Mia in Chicago? - I ask confuse, since two days ago I was at my parents house and my little sister was there.

- No, Mia is coming on Friday and is returning to Florida on Sunday, since she was only coming to see the concert with us. - she explains to me and even though she can't see me, she sits down.

- And you want me to take the two of them to the concert? - I assure her, knowing where this is going.

- Yes.- she answers simply. -You would save my life, honestly, and then I wouldn't have to tell Lucy, who has been excited about the concert for months, that we can't go and that she won't be able to go to her first concert.- she explains with some sadness and guilt in her voice.

- You do realize that Lucy is only 7 years old and that she probably forgets that she didn't go to the concert, right? - I ask my sister.

- Have you forgotten when dad took you to see your first hockey game? - she asks me sarcastically.

- No.- I growl in response, knowing that she is right and that game was the one that made me want to be a professional hockey player.

- So you'll come and take them to the concert? - she asks me hopefully.

- Yes, I'll talk to Mia to find out what plane she's going on and I'll try to get a ticket at the same time so we can go together. - I agree, knowing that she's right and that if I can prevent my niece from being sad, I'll do what I can.

- Thank you, thank you, thank you. You saved my life. - she thanks me very happily. - You'll see how happy Lucy will be that you're going with her to the concert. - she assure me energetically.

- Well now when I talk to Mia and buy the plane ticket I'll send you a message with the details.- I told her getting up from the couch and walking to my room.

-Perfect, if you have anything just write to me.- she says and we say goodbye.

-- End Call--

Once in my room, I text my little sister and ask her what time her flight to Chicago is.

While I wait for her response, I sit at the desk in front of my bedroom window and turn on my laptop.

My little sister's response didn't take long to arrive and she not only told me the time, but also sent me a screenshot of her tickets.

Thanks to the screenshot, I can see the plane number and the airline she will be traveling with. So with all the information I have, I go to the airline's website and start looking for the flight Mia will be on.

I do a little celebratory dance when I see that there are only 2 seats left on the outbound flight and 12 seats on the return flight. Which means I won't have to catch a plane at a different time.

I quickly buy the tickets and send them to my cell phone. Once the tickets are purchased, I start packing my suitcase for the three days and two nights I will be in Chicago, taking into account the weather in that city.

Once I have everything ready, all I have to do is pack the last things I need on the last day and get on the plane.

Tate POV

After finishing the European part of the tour, it was time for the United States part and it was being exhausting.

I wrote and hearing thousands of fans singing them at the top of their lungs next to me is indescribable. But that doesn't mean it's not completely exhausting and I fall asleep every night as soon as my head hits the pillow.

Today was Minneapolis' turn, where the energy of the crowd was incredible and I left without a shred of energy.

Maycee: I can't move an inch.- complains one of my two amazing dancers lying on the couch in the locker room.

Amari: Are you telling me or are you telling me? - another of the dancers asks sarcastically while lying on the floor.

Stevie: I feel sticky.- complains my other dancer drinking water.

Tate: And then what about me? - I ask them amused, trying to catch my breath. - I'm the only one who sings and dances at the same time, and you're the ones complaining. - I comment, seeing how everyone looks at me badly.

Findlay: That's because you're an amazing artist and we're just mere humans.- she replies with an innocent smile.

Alex: Besides the fact that you are you and the others are not.- he laughs sitting on the floor next to Amari.

Matt: Guys, shower and get comfortable, the bus leaves for Chicago in 40 minutes.- the tour manager tells us.

We all nodded and parted ways to shower and change into comfortable clothes for the night on the US tour bus.

Because unlike the tour in Europe, where we traveled by plane and bus because the distances between places were longer. So travelling by bus alone to get from one place to another in one or two days was impossible.

But on the US leg of the tour, the distances are shorter and we may only travel by bus. Which means movie nights and karaoke until we realize it's too late.

But I think I'll just go straight to bed and rest today. Because tomorrow we'll have all day to explore Chicago while they finish setting up the stage and getting everything ready.

So the next day we will only have to do a soundcheck in the morning and give the concert in the afternoon. Plus, a whole day in Chicago where we've already looked for plans and things to see takes energy.

So as soon as we get on the bus, I go straight to my bunk and as soon as I lay my head on the pillow I fall asleep.

But just before I fall asleep, I feel my stomach churning with nerves, just like it does right before I go on stage. It's like my body is anxiously awaiting something I'm not yet aware of.

POV Your

I roll my eyes at my sister's insistence and her repetitive speech about what I should or shouldn't do in any case. The reason is that she is making up impossible or 1 in a million situations.

Emma: So what do you do if a stranger asks you about your blood type? - she asks me again for the second time.

Y/n: You do realize we're just going to a concert, right? - I ask, tired of her questions. -We're not going to a black market for organs.- I assure her, throwing my head back on the couch and closing my eyes.

Emma: I'm sorry for worrying about the safety of my daughter and siblings. - she defends herself with a certain amount of sarcasm.

Y/n: It's one thing to worry, but you're been obsessive.- I say, relaxing completely against the couch.

Emma: Whatever you say, but make sure Lucy wears her watch at all times and doesn't take it off or lose it at any time.- she points her finger at me seriously.

Y/n: Don't tell me it's one of those watches with GPS.- I look at my sister amused.

Emma: Of course it is.- she answers me with obviousness. -It makes me feel safe if she is wearing it and even more so in situations like a concert, where there are thousands of people.- she explains doing something with her phone. -I just sent you the application and the username with the password.- she alerts me when I feel my phone vibrate in my pocket.

Y/n: If that makes you feel safer, I'll do it right now.- I assure her, taking my phone out of my pocket and entering our chat.

I start downloading the watch app on my phone when my little sister and niece walk into the room.

Mia: Are we leaving or what? - she asks excitedly, practically jumping in place.

Y/n: Yes, please.- I ask, quickly getting up from the sofa and approaching the girls.

Emma: Wait until I give you the tickets, you idiot.- she says, passing behind me and slapping me on the back of the neck.

Y/n: Ouch.- I complain rubbing the back of my neck and watching my sister and niece laugh. -And what are you laughing at? - I ask them approaching them raising an eyebrow.

Lucy: We are not laughing, uncle.- She shakes her head vigorously, holding back her laughter.

I quickly approach her and pick her up, tickling her. My niece squirms in my arms, trying to escape the tickling and get back to the ground.

Emma: Here are the VIP passes for the meet and greet and the concert.- says my sister returning to the room.

Mia: Give me, give me, give me.- she asks, running towards our sister and stretching out her hands to receive the pass.

Emma: If you lose it, you'll be left without a concert and without anything. - she reminds her, giving her the pass.

Mia: Not even my worst dreams I'm going to lose this wonder. - she says, taking the pass in her hands and giving it a kiss before hanging it around her neck.

I shake my head, amused by my little sister's attitude, as I approach the eldest of the three and receive the other two tickets from her.

With the tickets hanging around my neck, we walk to the apartment door and Mia is already walking out.

Emma: Remember everything I've told you and be very careful with Lucy, she's been a bit of an escape artist lately. - she reminds me, holding the door when we're already outside.

Y/n: Don't worry, go to work calmly and trust your brother.- I tell her with a smile.

Emma: That makes me worry more.- she assures me, looking at me badly.

Y/n: That's your problem now.- I shrug my shoulders. -Lucy, tell mommy goodbye.- I say to the little girl I still have in my arms.

Lucy: Bye Mommy! - she exclaims excitedly with a big smile.

Emma: Bye honey.- she says goodbye leaving a kiss on her cheek. -And behave well with Uncle Y/n.- she asks her daughter who immediately nods energetically. -Have a good time! - she exclaims as we begin to walk away down the hallway.

Mia: I will if we manage to get there on time.- she answers with a certain attitude.

I just shake my head in amusement at my little sister's teenage attitude. Once in the elevator to the garage, I notice my sister who can't stop looking at herself in the mirror on the wall and adjusting her clothes.

It is at this point that I notice she is wearing a black hockey jersey with grey and white details , with a T8 on the front and a MCRAE 20 on the back. I look over at my niece and see that she is wearing the same jersey.

Y/n: And those jerseys? - I ask, confused by the clothes.

Mia: It's the Tate concert merch.- she answers taking a photo in the mirror.

Y/n: From whoms merch? - I ask confused, exiting the elevator when the doors opened and receiving another blow to the back of the neck, but this time from my little sister.

Mia: Whose is it? - she asks me offended, walking beside me. -How dare you not know who Tate McRae is.- she accuses me, looking at me badly.

Y/n: Do you know who Wayne Gretzky is? - I ask with a raised eyebrow.

Mia: No.- she answers with obviousness. -But now we are talking about the incredible Tate McRae, who is a singer and an incredible dancer.- she assures me, climbing into the passenger seat when we reach the car I have rented.

Y/n: I'm glad you admire someone, but that doesn't mean I and the rest of the world have to too.- I assure her amused, tying my niece in her high chair and making sure she's secure.

Mia: Anyway, who doesn't know the name of the artist at the concert they're going to? - she asks me as I sit in the driver's seat.

Y/n: Considering that I found out about the concert just a few days ago, I think it's understandable.- I answer while driving towards the stadium where the concert will be. - Besides the fact that I'm only here to accompany you girls, the ones who are going to enjoy and have a good time with an artist that you like.- I remind her with a smile.

Mia: I assure you that you will also enjoy it, Tate is an incredible artist and her actions are very catchy.- my sister assures me while touching the car screen. -And so that you don't go without knowing a single song, for the next 20 minutes you will listen to her most listened to songs and thus you will be able to know some songs.- she says and immediately some upbeat music starts playing. -Because you are not going to embarrass me for not knowing a single song.- she assures me and starts singing when the artist does too.

I just laugh in amusement at my sister and her incredible eloquence. Although I have to admit that I have not stopped bobbing my head to the rhythm of each song and I agree with my sister that the songs are catchy.

But that's something I'm not going to admit to my sister and agree with her that the songs are catchy, because all she needs is to be more conceited at 16 years old.

I just hope that both my sister and my niece enjoy this concert and that they have a good memory of today. Because for me, the happiness of my family is the most important thing in my life.

I want to know what is your guys favorite Tate McRae song?

[likablenightmare]

Making him submit

part 1 //Tate x Fem Reader

Summary: sucking his pretty cock turns you on making you need him. Usually you submit to him but this time it’s different..

Warnings: 18+ only, nsfw, smut, oral sex, sex in general… come on it’s Tate Langdon, duhhh.

————————————————————————-

You hated sucking dick and you were never really good at it but with him it was different..with Tate you needed his pretty cock to be in your mouth. As you start to softly lick all around his cock he starts to let out little moans and it turns you on so much you start to suck on it while twirling your soft little tongue all round.. he grasps onto the sheets squeezing them hard, you’re so turned on by his excitement that your throat opens up and sundenly his whole cock is down your throat.. you’re deep throating him.

You have never been so turned on by giving head before but now you’re dripping wet… you want to keep hearing his moans and whimpers. “Mmm.. ahh. Your soft mouth w..with those pretty eyes staring at me..I’m going to cuuum.” You start to feel his cock twitching in your mouth and you’re desperate for his yummy cum. “Ahh, mmm.. I’m cumming!” He yelled as you feel his warm yummy treat fill your mouth. You are so turned on you swallow his cum and let out a little moan… you’re soaking wet.

You want more… you look at him and give him a sexy sweet smile. You wrap your lips back around his beautiful cock, he starts twitching because it’s sensitive from just orgasming. His eyes widen and he grabs onto the sheets again.. sweating with intense pleasure, he is breathing so heavy and making the cutest groans you have ever heard. “Ahh, yea. This feels way too good!” He says. Your tongue swirling and swirling as your sucking him and your pussy is throbbing for him.

Finally you get up and take off your panties and get into doggy position. He quickly rushes to fill you with his cock. As he desperately puts it in, you both let out a lil moan. He grabs onto your waste and is thrusting in and out of you like a maniac… so fast and hard that you can’t help but scream with pleasure.

As he pounds you, the sounds of him hitting against your ass made it that much hotter. “I love hearing myself clap against your perfect ass,” he said. Lucky for you, you already made him cum so he will last long while he fucks you.

You’re starting to shake because feeling him in you makes you weak with pleasure. You turn your head looking behind you to see his face and watch him pump in and out of you… his eyes are glossy as if he is about to cry from how good it feels, his cheeks are turning pink, and there is sweat dripping from his forehead. He bites his bottom lip to hold in a moan as you look into his pretty brown eyes. He flips you onto your back and gets on top of you while making intense eye contact.

Tate leans his head down to yours and starts making out with you as you moan into each others mouths. You both twirl your tongues together and it feels like absolute heaven… he spits into your mouth and licks your tongue so you can both share his spit. As you start to cum, your pussy is throbbing on his cock. He whispers into your ear, “yesss, cum for me.”

You reward him for making you cum by telling him he is a good boy. You get on top of him and ride his cock..hard. As your riding him like he is your bitch, using all your strength and weight, you can feel it allll the way inside of you. Usually you completely submit to him but this time its different.

You put your hands around his neck choking him making him whimper like a submissive dog.. he is completely surrendered to you. He can’t stop moaning as you start to nibble and suck on his neck. He whines “,Uuugh , yess… mmm don’t stop.” Of course you weren’t going to stop. It felt too good seeing him be surrendered to you.

You tell him to sit up and he does exactly what you ask. Instantly, sitting up with those submissive eyes. You’re on top of him, hugging your arms around him, you start to give him scratches all over his sexy back. You’re nibbling on his neck softly and then you start sucking his neck hard as you are bouncing on top of him, leaving hickeys all over his neck.

He won’t try to hide the hickeys you give him later on because he is so proud to be yours. Something about him sitting up while you are sitting on top of him facing each other with your arms wrapped around each other is so incredibly intimate..

[v1ctor1asecretangel]

One Way or Another

pre death!tate langdon x reader

song i recommend listening to/based on: one way or another by blondie

warnings: stalking, obsession

word count: 673

notes: enjoy this drabble guys! i was listening to my blondie vinyl and immediately wrote this🙏

The final bell rings, echoing down the hallway like a calling card just for Tate. He slinks out of his last class, letting the bustling crowd swallow him up, using it as his cover. Everyone’s moving, laughing, jostling for the best spots on their bus rides home. No one sees him. No one ever does. Except maybe you.

You used to, at least.

It feels like years since your eyes last met his that once looked at him like he was more than just another lost kid at Westfield High. You were his other half, his better half. But now, you’re untouchable, one of the popular kids, adored, almost worshiped. And he… he’s left in the shadows, cast aside like a broken toy.

One way or another, he thinks, pushing through the swarm of bodies. He’s going to find you. You can’t stay hidden from him, not forever.

Tate steps outside, onto the cracked pavement of the school parking lot. His eyes dart around until they land on you, standing with a group of friends, laughing. That laugh—the one that once belonged to him, that’s now thrown freely at everyone but him.

There’s something unsettlingly perfect about you today. Maybe it’s the way the late afternoon sun hits your hair, giving it that halo effect, or the light wind tugging at your jacket, making you look like a vision from some golden dream. He can feel his chest tighten, his fingers twitch. You’re so close, but you’re untouchable. He doesn’t want to just look at you. He wants more. He wants everything.

When you finally get onto the bus, his heart quickens. He slips back into the crowd, just far enough behind to stay invisible but close enough to catch every turn of your head, every flicker of movement. He can’t sit still; his fingers clench and unclench. The desire to reach out, to grab you by the arm, tell you everything that’s twisting inside him, is almost overwhelming. But no, he needs to be patient. You'll come to him.

The bus pulls away, and he’s quick to his bike. Trailing it from a distance as it winds through the city, watching it move block by block. He knows the route by heart, knows where it’ll stop, where it’ll speed up. When you finally get off, you don’t even glance back. But Tate’s there, slipping through the streets, hiding in shadows.

You head into a convenience store, chatting with friends as you browse through rows of magazines and candy. Tate leans against a wall outside, waiting, listening to the buzz of a flickering neon light above him, the hum of his own thoughts mixing in with the static.

He watches as you and your friends move toward the bus stop again, laughing at some joke he’ll never know. The laughter twists something inside him. You used to laugh with him like that, let him in on your world. You were his girl, his muse. But now, it’s like he’s a stranger to you. And yet, he’s closer to you than anyone else. He knows every inch of this city, every shortcut, every street you walk down. He’s memorized your patterns, your quirks. He’s in your shadow, in the air you breathe.

When you get home, he watches from across the street, from under the shadow of a tree. The light in your bedroom flickers on, and he imagines you pulling off your coat, tossing it onto that same chair you always throw it on. He’s seen it through the window enough times to know.

Inside, you’re probably brushing your hair, maybe glancing out the window every now and then. Sometimes, he swears you look right at him. He feels that flicker of hope, the thrill that you might know he’s there, that you might want him to be.

The house goes dark. Tate feels his heart slow, his gaze lingering on your window. One day, you’ll see him again. One way or another, he’ll make sure of it. You’re his, and no one else’s.

[americanwh0rerstory]

KINKTOBER DAY ONE

gun play - tate langdon

tate langdon x f!reader

WARNING: gun play, degradation, m!masturbation, spit kink, slight dacryphillia

BACKGROUND INFO: the guns i would like you to picture is an m16 rifle and a pistol. if you don’t know what that looks like/gun anatomy here you go

NSFW BELOW THE CUT. CONSUME AT OWN FAULT

the cool steel of the rifle was nuzzled between your folds, the muzzle nudged your clit every time you rocked back and forth against the barrel eliciting soft whines from you all the while you looked up at tate through half-lidded eyes of lust.

he looked down at you with an equally lustful look, stroking his shaft in time with your movements against his gun. he rolled his thumb over his slit and worked his bead of precum into him as lube, his eyes trained on your every movement with a cold but lustful stare

“fuckin’ slut. speed up, i know you like it fast” he instructs in a tone as equally cold as his expression, but that facade faltered when you did speed up; a small tremor could be heard in his tone as he stroked himself faster whilst holding back his own moans

he grabbed a small handcanon from his desk with his free hand, pointing it at your tits before moving it to your head “i’d threaten to shoot you but you’d get off on it wouldn’t ya? dirty bitch, you’d like it if i shoved my gun down your throat, threaten to shoot you”

you rutted against the gun faster, his words only turning you on and making you leak over his gun even more. soft whines and ragged breathes escaped from between your slightly parted lips. you looked up at tate, moaning his name whenever the muzzle hit your clit at the perfect angle to make you see stars. throwing your head back in euphoria, you ground against the gun like it was your last day on earth.

he did exactly what he said he would do and put the handcanon in your mouth, making you suck it off as if it were his cock. the front sight nudged against the roof of your mouth with every pump tate made of it sliding between your lips. drool leaked out from the corners of your mouth from being forced to keep you lips so wide open to accommodate his gun, but you didn’t care. hell, tate seemed to be loving the way you drooled all over his gun.

a familiar knot began to build in your stomach, you bit down on the gun instinctively whilst letting out muffled whines of pleasure. your orgasm shook through your whole body, making your eyes flutter back into your skull and your entire body arch from how good this feeling was. your cunt clenched around nothing, wishing it was tate inside of you. his gun was drenched in your juices, dripping off of the barrel and puddling beneath the gun.

the sight of your own orgasm caused tate to finish too, his own release spurting out in hot ropes which splattered onto your body. this continued for a second or two before it slowly came to a stop. he let out a guttural moan, a low moan of your name spilling from his lips.

he carefully pulled the gun out from under you and gave the barrel a quick lick to taste the sweet release that came out of you. he flipped the gun so the heel was pointing towards you, flashing a cocky but teasing smirk before grinding it against your swollen clit. this elicited another loud moan from you, tears of pleasurable overstimulation threatened to spill from your glassy eyes; this didn’t stop tate at all

“youre pretty when you cry” he murmurs “with pleasure, i mean” he added as he ground the heel into you. “think i’m gonna stop cause you came once? course not. we’ve got all night”

[violet-harmon2011]