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a-little-reckless-and-restless · 15 days ago

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❝ 𝑫𝒊𝒅 𝑰𝒕 𝑯𝒖𝒓𝒕 .ᐣ ❞

── tate langdon x virgin!fem! reader

TAGS: sexual content, mdni・virgin!fem!reader・loss of virginity・ unprotected sex・ vāginal fingering・ english is not my first language・not proofread ・2.2k words

note: this is highly requested so here goes… please excuse the poor writing, thank you.

“No need to be so nervous, I’ll take care of you. Promise.” Tate gave you that cocky, boyish smirk before nuzzling his nose against yours. He was kissing you again before you could think of a sassy comeback, rolling you to lay on your back. You succumbed to the warm, throbbing sensation in your lower gut that had ignited the second his hands tugged at the hem of your skirt. Long, agile fingers traced the planes of your abdomen and delicate hipbones as you were exposed, the garment discarded to the floor. You tilted your head back against the pillow when he moved his attention to your collarbone, a soft gasp escaping your lips as he started kissing and sucking at your pulse point.

His palm was warm when it made contact with the underside of your breast, gently squeezing. You jumped a little at the sudden contact and Tate withdrew his hand as if he was scalded, eyes darting up to look at your face.

“…You okay?”

You nodded, biting down on your lower lip, feeling your face heat up. Your chest felt tight, excitement and nervousness swirling together.

“Yeah, ‘m okay,”

“You sure?”

His gaze softened as he reached up to gently press his thumb against your lip, pulling it free from your teeth.

“Don’t do that,” he murmured, his voice low but gentle, his eyes never leaving yours.

“You’re gonna hurt yourself.”

You swallowed hard, your nerves still bubbling up, but there was something about the way he was looking at you—like he wasn’t in any rush, like he wanted to make sure you were comfortable before anything else.

“I just wasn’t expecting it,” you admitted, fingers fidgeting slightly in your lap.

He gave you a soft, understanding nod, his thumb still lightly brushing your bottom lip.

“Alright, tell me if I do something that… doesn’t feel right, m’kay? We don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for.”

The sincerity in his voice made your heart swell. It wasn’t that you didn’t want this—you did. But the nervous energy still buzzed beneath your skin, and he was perceptive enough to notice it without you having to say anything. His hand found yours, lacing your fingers together.

“Okay.”

Your eyelids fluttered closed as Tate’s lips returned to the hollow of your clavicle, his breath warm and soft against your skin. You could feel his soft blonde curls brushing against your cheek, the sensation comforting and electric at the same time. Each tentative kiss he placed there sent a ripple of desire through your loins like molten honey, the nerves from before slowly melting into something warmer, softer.

His hand returned to cup your breast, but this time the touch was lighter, his fingers barely ghosting over your skin as if silently asking for permission. You swallowed as Tate gently rolled your stiff nipples between his thumb and forefinger, giving enough stimulation without hurting you. Pleasant warmth tingled down your spine, and a soft sigh escaped you.

This felt nice.

Tate pulled back just enough to look at you, his lips curving into a soft smile when he saw that you were more at ease.

“Does it feel good?” he murmured earnestly, the words barely filling the space between you. You nodded, cheeks still flushed but for a different reason now. There was no denying it now, your panties were embarrassingly damp.

“Good,”

His lips pressed against the underside of your jaw, when his tongue traced a slow, deliberate path along your jugular, your pulse fluttered wildly beneath his touch. Tate carried on with his administrations for a while, massaging your breast with his palm and occasionally running his thumb across your nipple. The sensations that he evoked was almost overwhelming, and without thinking, your hand reached out, grabbing a fistful of the bedsheets to steady yourself. Warm breath ghosting over the skin of your other breast, he moved closer to his destination, leaving goosebumps and hickeys in their wake.

You gasped when his lips brushed against your nipple, hot tongue circling the areola and causing your abdominal muscles to tighten. Warmth spread through your body like a wildfire, and you found yourself arching your back and grinding against his palm for more friction. His hand slid down to curl around your waist, gently tugging at the waistband of your panties. You lifted your hips slightly, allowing him to remove the last article of clothing.

With a shuddering intake of breath, you fought the urge to cover up your body. This isn’t just anyone. This was Tate, and he loved you as much as you loved him. You trusted him, and he had promised to take good care of you.

You raised a hand to the nape of his neck, fingers threading through his soft, golden curls as his chin rested on your shoulder. You could feel the steady rise and fall of his chest against yours, grounding you in the moment.

“Can I– can I touch you?”

Tate pulled back slightly, just enough for his eyes to meet yours, those dark brown eyes shining with earnest concern. Brows furrowed as he searched your face, trying to read you.

“Yes,”

A soft whimper escaped your lips, your fingers tightening in his hair as he traced his fingers along the inside of your thigh before tugging at your knees, having you plant the bottom of your feet on the mattress, on either side of his hips. By the time his fingertips explored the junction of your thighs, liquid desire was dripping down from the centre of your chest, pooling in your abdomen and spreading down to your loins.

“Fuck… you’re so wet,”

He muttered lowly when he spread open your folds with your fingers. Instinctively, you clenched your thighs around his waist as he gathered your slickness, circling around your aching core before slowly pushing a finger into you. A strangled gasp escaped you when he curled his finger, the sensitive bundle of nerves set alight by his touch. Panting and whimpering, you clawed at his shoulder when you felt Tate insert another finger, the pad of his thumb stroking you in a soothing rhythm as he steadily pumped his fingers in and out of you.

It wasn’t long before you felt your entire body tense up, the pressure he had been coaxing from you having finally reached its crest. The tight coil in your lower belly snapped — segueing into white hot bursts of pleasure that was blinding in its own intensity. Walls still fluttering around his fingers, you trembled with the force of your orgasm, a kittenish mewl bubbling deep from your throat.

And suddenly Tate was gone. Your eyes snapped open blearily to protest, but the whimper died down when you saw your boyfriend hunched over in concentration, fingers working frantically; the noticeable bulge of his arousal straining through the denim as he yanked down his jeans and boxers, his erection springing free and touching his belly. He grasped his cock in his hand, giving it a few harsh pumps. The entire time his gaze was locked on you, revelling in the way you stared at him. You have never seen a real penis before.

He returned to his position onto the mattress and between your legs. Upon feeling his hardness pressing against your hip, your body tensed in anticipation and your breathing quickened almost instantly as Tate guided his cock towards your entrance.

How was that even supposed to fit?

“Are you ready? I mean it’s okay if–”

His gaze flickered down to your warm, weeping hole, waiting and ready just for him. He groaned, pressing his forehead against yours and closing his eyes, trying to stop himself from shoving himself inside you right then and there.

“Y-yess. Oh please, yes.”

Smiling at your eager answer, he shifted a bit, angling himself as he pushed the tip into you, and you winced at the sudden intrusion. There was no excruciating pain like you’d imagined — just a burning sensation from stretching unconditioned muscles. Sensing your reaction, Tate paused, breathing heavily.

“You okay?”

“I’m fine.”

Taking a deep breath, you wrapped your legs around his waist and relaxed your muscles, allowing your body to sink back onto the sheets. Tate resumed his movements, carefully sliding deeper inside you. Each delicious, agonising inch stretched you in a way that could only be described as glorious, you could feel every ridge and vein that mapped the surface of his length rub against your walls. Taking your fingers through his hair, you felt him shudder, his cock throbbing and hardening inside you which caused the embers of warmth in your gut to reignite.

“Oh my… mghm please, T-Tate..”

You whimpered into his ear, who prompted a low moan from him. An arm wrapped securely around your waist as his hips withdrew before pressing back inside; you spread your legs wider for him and he groaned. The pace he’d established was slow, but steady. Heat washed over you in waves every time he moved, trailing hot kisses along your neck. Every slow pass of his tongue against your skin made your chest tighten with a mixture of nerves and excitement — he moved with a perfect balance of sweetness and intent, never too much, but just enough to leave you breathless and aching for more.

You mewled softly as his hips jerked a bit harder, the movement sending a ripple of sensation through your body. Tate leaned down, capturing your lips in his. His hand cradled your jaw, thumb brushing gently along your cheek as he guided you into the kiss. The other hand found yours, fingers lacing together in a firm but gentle hold, anchoring you. Arching your back, you tilted your hips to meet his thrusts and was immediately rewarded when he brushed against a specific spot inside you that made you cry into his mouth. Tearing away, you panted out his name, your sweaty foreheads pressed against each other.

“P-please,” you begged, the ability to string together a coherent sentence lost.

“…Please Tate,”

“Yeah?” He nuzzled the tip of his nose against yours. “What do you need baby?”

“Need you to… to…”

He withdrew the arm that was holding your waist and shifted his weight on his elbows before sliding the hand between you, pressing the pad of his thumb gently against your clit.

“Like this?”

A stretched whine escaped from your lips into the space between you, and you dug the heels of your feet into his backside, anchoring him to bury himself deeper into you, helping him breach that magical spot once more. Fingernails scrabbling frantically across his shoulders, down to his chest.

Tate grunted, face scrunching up in pleasure and restraint. His hips stuttered, his thrusts growing increasingly sloppier but the rhythm of his thumb remained steadfast — you felt him twitch within the confines of your plushy walls, and with a muffled whimper against your shoulder, he spilled into you, warmth spreading through your womb like a wildfire. Your thighs quivered and your eyes screwed shut, fingers digging crescent indents into his skin as white-hot pleasure consumed over you once again, your cunt convulsing around him.

After you’ve came down from your high, which was a sticky, sweaty but satisfying mess, you untangled your legs from his waist to rest on the mattress, fingers tangling into his hair. Tate raised his head to press a kiss to your forehead.

“You alright?”

Basking in the afterglow of your orgasm, you simply hummed in affirmation, nosing at his cheek with a tired smile. He pulled out carefully before collapsing beside to, reaching over to lazily tug you into his arms. You snuggled against his chest, the sore ache between your legs only registering when you moved.

Tate’s breath was warm against your shoulder as he nuzzled into the crook of your neck, his voice a soft murmur, laced with concern.

“Did it hurt?” his tone hesitant, almost fragile. “I’ve heard that the first time usually does.”

You could feel his heartbeat, fast and anxious, the tenderness in his voice making your own chest tighten. His fingers brushed softly along your arm, as though he was trying to soothe you without knowing whether you needed it. You gently exhaled, your hand still resting at the nape of his neck, fingers playing with the curls that had fallen there.

“No,” you whispered, your voice steady but soft. “It didn’t hurt. It was just… intense, but not in a bad way. Not the hurting kind.”

Tate lifted his head, brown eyes meeting yours, relief visibly softening the furrow of his brow. He searched your face, still wanting to make sure, still holding onto a hint of concern. His thumb grazed your cheek, and his gaze softened even more, his lips parting slightly as he seemed to drink in your every word.

“You sure? I didn’t want to—”

You shook your head gently, cutting him off with a reassuring smile.

“I’m sure, Tate. It was perfect… you were perfect.”

He exhaled deeply, as if he’d been holding his breath, and his whole body seemed to relax. He pressed his forehead to yours, his fingers lacing with yours once again, holding on as if to remind you that he was still there, still gentle, still yours.

“Okay,” he whispered, the word barely more than a breath. His thumb caressed your cheek once more before his lips found yours again, softer this time.

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