#ahs tate

a tate langdon x fem!reader fic

— ౨ৎ masterlist

✮⋆˙. content warnings: cheating (not with tate 😮‍💨) ꩜ exhibitionism ꩜ sub!tate ꩜ kinky AF ꩜ oral f!receiving ꩜ riding ꩜ whimpering ꩜ cuckolding ꩜ unprotected p in v ꩜ creampie? ꩜ mentions of killing ꩜ no use of y/n

lav speaks… OH MY GOD I REWATCHED MURDER HOUSE AND TATE IS SOOO FINEEEE. i obviously needed to make this my dirtiest story i’ve probably ever wrote sooo enjoy! ps.. pls leave tate requests i am motivated 😇

living in the murder house was bound to have some problems, but you didn’t expect tate to be one of them.

yes, he was clingy, and yes, he was overprotective but he had to understand that you had a boyfriend so boundaries were to be set.

bringing over your boyfriend was also a hassle, he didn’t know about the spirits living there. anytime he had came over, tate was quick to knock things over and spook him a bit.

there was no privacy in that house.

kissing your boyfriend led to tate showing up behind him, only for your eyes to see.

and sex was the worst of all, you didn’t want tate to see you bare-ass naked! each time you made sure to have the covers over you while doing the deed.

tate was not going to get a free show.

you had to admit, he was very attractive. but — you had a boyfriend and loyalty is the key quality for every relationship.

-

you brought him over one night, nothing special, just a movie marathon and some popcorn to come along.

the movie choice, the shining. of course you chose it, your boyfriend was a little bit of a scaredy cat and you had to protect him.

boring.. tate was never scared of anything, he would do anything to protect you and you knew it.

stop thinking about it.

your mind was filled with these repulsive thoughts about him, thoughts of him cheating and fucking some other girl.

your intuition was almost never wrong, but why was it acting up now of all times?

“baby, can you go grab the popcorn?”

act normal. just brush off these thoughts.

“mhm — i’ll be right back,” your boyfriend sat up off the couch and headed towards the kitchen.

the lights began to flicker, then quickly shut off leaving you in the pitch black dark. hearing a scream from the kitchen, you grabbed your phone and turned on the flashlight.

“babe.. is everything okay?” a thump emerged from the stairwell, it sounded like someone was dragging something heavy. the sound continued until a door was opened.

you shone your flashlight towards the open door, it was the basement stairwell.

thumping echoed from the stairs, someone was going down it but you couldn’t tell who.

“what the fuck,” you mumbled to yourself, quickly following the stairs down till you were faced with a figure.. or figures in the dark.

finding the light-switch, you quickly turned back on the lights only to be faced with your boyfriend tied to a chair and tate directly behind him.

“tate! what the fuck are you doing with him?

tate smirked quickly at the sound of your boyfriend grunting — and groaning while trying to get himself untied.

“well.. let’s see. your boyfriend here has something to tell you.”

this is not gonna end well

your intuition rose causing a pit to form in your stomach. “maybe you should take the tape off his mouth so he could actually tell me, dumbass,” you snarked at him.

“fiesty aren’t we?” tate chuckled to himself before ripping the duct tape off the boys lips.

“speak,” tate demanded, it seemed to be that tate knew something you didn’t quite know.

“first of all — who the fuck is this? why is he in your house, and why do you seem so calm about it,” your boyfriend was angry to say the least.. jealous much?

you were silent, it was too hard to explain everything about the house and you were sure it would scare him away without his understanding.

“i said tell her, did you not hear me the first time,” tate grabbed your boyfriends chin to make him look directly at you.. but he still avoided eye contact.

“can you guys just tell me what’s going on?” this was getting old, the secrets were obviously there but he wasn’t speaking.

“fine, i guess i’ll have to tell you,” tate spoke up, side eyeing your boyfriend and slowly looking back towards you.

“he’s been cheating on you.. pretty much the whole time you guys have been dating. all the times you went to use the bathroom, or left him alone, he was quick to text or call his other girl.”

woah — no hesitation or nothing, just airing your boyfriends dirty secrets.

yeah.. he was silent and looking at the floor, it had to be true by his demeanor.

“now would you like me to kill him? away from here obviously.. or we can get some revenge.”

it’s okay.. it’s okay just breathe. your mind went blank, what does tate mean by ‘get revenge’?

ohhh.. that type of revenge

“tate, you’re just trying to get into my pants.”

by this time your boyfriend was heavily confused, and not really getting the hint. tate quickly put the tape back on his mouth before he was going to reply.

another string of muffled groans and screams came from your boyfriend, but it was hard to care knowing he had his head in some other girls pussy the whole time you’ve been dating him.

“you know you want to, and i know you’ve fantasized about it before. not keeping your diary locked was a bad choice..”

jackpot! he knew about your little desires of exhibitionism. well.. they’re not very little. it was your main turn on — but of course your boyfriend didn’t know.. it wasn’t easy to share that you liked being watched while getting fucked.

“how did you- why have you- i just don’t-” tates lips slammed into yours before you had a chance to gather your racing thoughts.

they were soft, tasted like cherries, and it actually wasn’t as disgusting as you thought to be kissing a dead guy.

tate definitely knew how to use his mouth, maybe in more ways than one.

his hand caressed your back, pulling you closer despite your boyfriends muffled pleas in the background.

when you thought it couldn’t get any better, tate pulled away and went to go grab another chair from the corner of the room.

you might be thinking, what is that for? oh — you’ll know soon enough.

he scraped the metal legs across the floor, causing an echo of high-pitched whining to elude from it.

“sit,” god you were a slut because right then and there, you sat down as quick as you possibly could, almost slipping in the motion.

“needy.. aren’t you?”, he walked over slowly. you hadn’t noticed before but he had took his shirt off, leaving him in only his pants.

nodding quickly, you motioned for him to come closer.. just so you can feel his touch once again.

god — those lips were indescribable.

“not so fast, take off your clothes please,” such a good boy tate, demanding but also polite.

practically jumping off the chair, you discarded your skirt, and shirt and threw them next to your boyfriend.. who by the way was still tied up and yelling for help.

“ignore him tate, the screams make me even more excited.”

“yeah, i knew you were my type of girl”, tate laughed before kneeling on the cold ground, leveling with your thighs.

“mmm’ so perfect,” he said with such admiration making you physically feel your pussy get wetter.

tates hands caressed your thighs, from the top, to the bottom. opening them was the first step. next, he was gonna eatttt.

placing delicate kisses on the inside of your thighs had you squirming, hands in tates hair.

a moan came from your lips as tate pulled your panties to the side, admiring your pretty folds and the wetness glimmering from the harsh lighting.

“so so pretty, i mean nothing could compare,” he was making you even more needy by playing with the hems of your lace underwear.

“tateee,” you groaned, impatient and waiting for him to do something.. anything.

in a quick second, tates fingers found his way to your aching area, gently rubbing and feeling the wetness of your folds.

it’s almost as though it was only you two in the room, your boyfriend being irrelevant to the situation.

but — it definitely was hotter adding another body to the mix, and a jealous one at that.

tates fingers slid from between, and soon one of them made their way inside you. pumping slow but deep, tates eyes were burned onto your expression, watching every inch of your face and listening to the labored breathing coming from your lips.

“so fucking wet, i swear to god it’s like the atlantic ocean but warmer.”

his finger began to go deeper, adding another to the mix as well. now having two fingers inside you, something seemed to be missing.

you needed pressure on your clit, desperately. “tate — mmm, can you please just..” he knew what you meant, so in an instant he took his other hand to move your panties to the side. in a fast manner, he hovered his face above your clit.

it was pretty mean for him to tease you like that.. but waiting 2 years for the love of your life to finally reciprocate was a bigger longing compared to his teasing.

hot breath fanned your pussy, you felt his tongue finally hit your clit and it was pure bliss.

tate began to pace his fingers faster all while practically making out with your cunt.

“mmm- tate.. you feel so good on me,” yeah you forgot your boyfriend.. well probably ex by now, was directly across the room watching every perverted act.

this only fueled tates’ eagerness to please you, to make you feel good. his fingers went as deep as they could, all while he was palming himself through his jeans, and tongue licking stripes up and down on your heat.

“i’m gonna-” the pit in your stomach was now filled with pleasure and an ache for release.

tate released his mouth from your clit, “please baby, please just cum for me.”

the ache released as you came undone, legs shaking, and pussy leaking. he didn’t stop there, he continued to let you ride out your high until he let go from your aching cunt.

“good shit i tell ya’ i mean your pussy tastes delicious,” such a sweet guy always praising you and making you feel good.

that’s what tate was, a pleaser and a damn good one at that.

and then you stood up, panties soaked from your excess orgasm. you motioned for tate to remove his pants, all while your boyfriends screams got louder.

“does he ever shut up?”

“never,” you giggled pulling tate into a kiss. pushing him away, you waited for him to remove his boxers.

tate pulled them down, his cock sprung up quickly and his tip was red and leaking with pre-cum.

you didn’t like most cocks — his definitely was an exception. perfectly hung and cleanly shaven. even dead people still have good hygiene.. surprising!

grabbing the hem, you quickly pulled down your wet panties and undid your bra. it wasn’t awkward undressing in front of tate, lord knows how many times you did even worse without knowing he was watching.

tate sat on the chair, and motioned for you to sit on him. you wrapped your legs on either side of his thighs, and slowly sunk down — your cunt was lubricant enough to take most of him.

“fuckkk,” he hissed, you adjusted yourself to put your legs on the edges of the chair.

he was big, about 7-8 inches and thick. no doubt about it, he filled you to the brim. his hips accidentally jerked up, causing you to almost see stars. “tate- oh my god this feels so good.. i mean you feel so good.”

your eyes connected with tates as he slid deeper inside you, your lips almost magnetic and attracting to eachother. his finally hit yours as a steady pace was present of him thrusting into you.

he was a whimperer (very loud) especially into your mouth. your fingers interlocked with those gorgeous blonde curls, so soft, so pullable.

he was constantly hitting your g-spot. his lips left yours and made their way to the side of your neck, kissing and biting in a harsh way.

“i love fucking you in front of him, look at him writher while seeing his girlfriend get fucked.” tate was good at dirty talk, and he seemed to be enjoying it too. his eyes rolled back as you clenched around him at the base.

he was close, you could tell just by the way his hands grabbed at every inch of your skin — and the way his words came out in groans and whimpers.

“tate, let’s make this even more fun.” he looked confused at what you meant but nodded in agreement anyway.

“cum inside me,” and that was enough to make him finish right then and there. his cock twitched and spurts of cum filled you up. hands grasping at your ass as you continued to ride him, tate whined and cried for you to stop.

“nuh-uh, let me finish again. make it worth my while,” you moaned out as you continued to bounce up and down on him. his right hand groped your tit, as his other went down to your throbbing clit.

“baby — yes please just use me.”

“i’m gonna- please i’m gonna finish,” you whimpered as his hand continued to move against you and you were definitely feeling him deep.

your ache was soon fulfilled once again, leaking juices down his shaft all while he was still deep inside you.

practically cockwarming — tate and you had forgotten about the extra guest in the room.

“oh shit — well what are we gonna do with him,” tate whined still balls deep inside you. you gasped as tates mouth latched onto your nipple.

“let’s just.. uh.. maybe..” you thought hard for an idea. “he can watch for one more round i’m sure..” tate spoke after detaching from your nipple, and using his fingers to roll the bud in between them.

“what position would we even do?”

tate spoke before helping you up, and laying on the floor — practically waiting for you to come back on.

warnings — porn w/o plot, voyerusim, pillow-humping, masturbation

THE FOGGED GLASS OF YOUR BEDROOM WINDOW—the same bedroom that once belonged to him—obstructed Tate’s view of you, the thundering wind and downpour of the late hour shining through.

He reached the sleeve of his green and black striped sweater up to the glass, wiping away at a condensed spot to look through.

Then, he spotted you. You were threading your fingers through your hair as you adjusted the costume you wore—oblivious to the watchful boy outside. Your costume consisted of a matching black corset and skirt. When did Halloween costumes become so.. ordinary? Tate thought with slight disapproval, a frown on his face.

That was until you began to pull the hem of your black skirt to the floor, stepping out of the pool of fabric that landed around your feet. You stepped out of the Converse you wore, leaving them next to the discarded skirt.

18+ ; mdni tate langdon x f!reader ⁞⁞ religious imagery, oral sex

tate langdon thinks about god a lot. 

religion was constant in his family home before he died; both in the literal way, and in the abstract. his mother had been god, in a way. tate, her lucifer. her light-bringer, her fabled, perfect son. and her fallen fucking angel. 

but in the house, there is no heaven nor hell, and nowhere to be cast away from. one can’t be the king of purgatory. all that exists are the hallways. the attic. the huge, unused rooms and the stained glass that puddles multicolored sunlight on the hardwood floor in the mornings. 

and then—you. a flash of revolutionary difference amidst the sameness. you fit no role here, your presence spilling over the confines of archetype, unnameably free. to come and go, to age, to love him. 

when you fuck, head thrown back in pleasure, sweat sheening on your skin, the convergence of your bodies reminiscent of eclipse, he feels closer to god than he ever really has. deliberate, hedonistic disobedience of whatever his mother preached gets him high. 

and when you whisper to him, body bare, heart thumping against your paper ribs, your thighs clenched around his head, fingers twisted in his shattered halo of curls, he feels more like a disciple than a seraphim. salvation. 

“tate.”

he lets a whine pass his lips, rolling his hips into the mattress, pressing his face closer, working to coax more of that sound from your body. 

“fuck, tate, oh my god…so good, so perfect…”

that feels more like gospel than anything. he can imagine staying here, between your legs, where he’s good and warm and useful, where his worship matters, for the rest of the forever he’ll spend in this house. he’d be seraph for anything that thanked him. 

his dick fills out and he rubs against the bedspread, seeking friction, physical stimulation to match the intensity of what’s happening in his mind. his tongue works faster, lapping up whatever you’re willing to give him. 

your fingers trace on the nape of his neck and you shift your hips. “so perfect,” you repeat. he can’t see your face but he can guess the kind of twisted up pleasure-pain painting your expression. 

and it hits him, then, that nothing feels better than the holy light of your love. your praise. 

he freezes, forehead pressed against you, eyelashes damp. when the tears come, he resumes moving, fingers clenching in the soft flesh of your ass, letting them drop onto your sex, devotion mixed with your natural wetness. he stops chasing his own crescendo, focused entirely on you, on the only provable deity.