saw you asking about tate and 1st; yes and second, my reuqest: a long time ago me and my ex gf had a weekend escapade and we dared each other for a sex marathon to see who had the highest libido, she was really into scissoring so we did that until we pretty much passed out on top of each other, we came so much before going to sleep that when we woke up our vjs were pretty much glued and we went to town again. it was the hottest thing Ive ever done and i get chills just remembering how our clitorise were pretty much gorilla glued. i would like you to create something like this with tate so i dont have to think of my ex when i think of that night. (english is not my first language so sorry if i sounded weird lol) xoxo from santiago chile
+18 MDNI
word count: 1.1k
warning: the reader has she/her pronouns and has a vagina, the rest is pretty self explanatory i fear… not proofread!
The hotel room smelled like sweat and spilled vodka, the kind of sticky-sweet chaos that only happens when two people stop giving a fuck halfway through Friday night. Your thighs were slick, your breath ragged against Tate’s collarbone as she rocked against you, your bodies a mess of tangled limbs and bitten-off moans. "Fuck, you’re so wet already," Tate hissed, arching her hips up to grind harder, the heat between you two almost unbearable.
It started as a dare, because of course it did, a stupid, drunken bet scribbled on a napkin between shots: Who can come the most before sunrise? Tate, ever the competitive shit, had smirked and dragged you to the nearest bed, her hazel eyes dark with hunger.
But now? Now her fingers were knuckle-deep inside you, her mouth latched onto your throat like she wanted to bruise the proof of her victory into your skin. You arched into her touch, gasping as her thumb circled your clit with ruthless precision. “T-Tate—” you choked out, but she just laughed, low and filthy, her breath hot against your ear. “Uh-uh, baby. You don’t get to tap out yet,” she murmured, twisting her fingers just so, and suddenly you were coming again, your thighs clamping around her wrist as pleasure ripped through you in waves. Tate didn’t stop, she never stopped, just leaned down to lick a stripe up your collarbone, her free hand squeezing your ass hard enough to leave marks. “Still think you can win?” she teased, her voice thick with triumph.
You whimpered, your body still trembling, but you weren’t done either. With a shaky breath, you shoved her onto her back, straddling her shoulders before she could react. Tate’s grin faltered for half a second— just long enough for you to sink down onto her face, her startled moan vibrating against you. “Fucking cheater,” she gasped, but her hands were already gripping your thighs, pulling you closer as her tongue dove in deep.
Outside, the city pulsed with neon and noise, but in that room, there was only the slick, obscene sound of Tate’s mouth on you, the creak of the bedframe, and the ragged chorus of your moans. The night was young, and neither of you planned on losing.
You rocked against Tate’s face, your thighs trembling as her tongue worked you open, relentless and messy. But then suddenly, she grabbed your hips and flipped you both sideways, your legs tangling, her thigh slotting between yours with a wet, delicious pressure. “Fuck me like you mean it,” Tate growled, her hazel eyes glinting with challenge. You didn’t hesitate. You ground down hard, your clit dragging against her slick skin, the friction so intense it bordered on pain. Tate’s breath hitched, her fingers digging into your ass as she matched your rhythm, her own hips bucking up to meet you.
The bed became a battlefield; sheets twisted, pillows thrown to the floor, as you rolled again, Tate’s back hitting the mattress with a thud. You straddled her thigh, your wetness smearing across her skin, while she hooked a leg over your waist, pressing her heel into your spine to drag you closer. Your bodies locked together in a slippery, desperate grind, Tate’s moans mingling with yours as the heat built and built, unbearable and perfect.
Neither of you lasted long. Tate came first, her back arching off the bed, her curses dissolving into a choked scream as her fingers clawed at your hips. You followed seconds later, your vision whiting out as pleasure tore through you, your body collapsing against hers in a sweaty, shuddering heap. Tate’s laugh was breathless, her chest rising and falling rapidly beneath you. “Still counting?” she slurred, her voice wrecked. You mumbled something incoherent into her collarbone, too fucked-out to form words. The last thing you registered was Tate’s fingers lazily tracing circles on your ass before darkness swallowed you both.
Morning light slithered through the blinds, but neither of you cared. Not when Tate’s thigh was wedged between your legs again, not when your clit throbbed against hers, still oversensitive from last night’s marathon. You hissed when she shifted, the sticky pull of dried come tugging at your skin, but Tate just smirked and ground down harder. "Tap out?" she taunted, her hazel eyes glinting. You bared your teeth and bucked up, catching her off guard—she yelped, then laughed, breathless, as you rolled her onto her back. "Fuck no," you growled. "We’re not done."
But then you shifted.
Your thighs were fused together, sticky-damp with dried come, Tate’s pussy glued snug against yours in a way that sent a fresh pulse of heat straight to your core. Tate groaned, her hips rolling instinctively, only to hitch when she realised she couldn’t move.
“What the—?” Her voice was rough with sleep, her brow furrowing as she glanced down between you.
You bit your lip, stifling a laugh. “We might’ve… overdone it.”
Tate’s grin was slow, wicked. “Or underdone it.” She rocked against you experimentally, the friction sparking a sharp gasp from both of you as your clits brushed through the mess. “Fuck. Feels like we melted together.”
You arched into her, your breath already ragged. “Guess we’re finishing this.”
Tate’s laugh was dark, her hands gripping your ass as she rolled you both sideways hard. The angle was awkward, deliciously filthy, your bodies straining against the dried slick binding you. But Tate didn’t care. She never fucking cared.
Her teeth sank into your shoulder as she ground up against you, her hips moving in short, desperate jerks. “Fuck me properly this time,” she growled, and you obeyed, your legs tangling tighter, your pussies pressing flush together.
first anon ask! i’m so proud of myself for writing this under an hour (even tho the ask has been sitting in my inbox for a while… strong start btw) i’m a bit rusted since it’s been so long since i lat wrote something but hopefully you guys can’t tell :D
Whenever there's a snowstorm, the underlords cuddle together in a bunch of blankets and pillows to stay warm (cue lou, milton, rhonda, etc getting cute aggression due to it)
MOST DEFINITELY AND SO AM I JUST LOOK AT THEM RHDHSHATATSHDHDH
