The First Time || Dante Sparda ||
A/n: Part two of Dante fingering the reader but now you two fuck!
Warnings: p in v , virginity loss , cream pie
Dante carried you to the bedroom like you weighed nothing, arms strong and steady. The adrenaline of earlier had faded, leaving behind a pulsing, aching desire that settled deep in your belly. Your thighs still trembled from your climax, and yet you clung to him, craving more.
You could practically feel your heart pounding rapidly in your chest. Nibbling your bottom lip, you clung to the man looking up at him as he laid you down on the bed—his bed—soft sheets brushing your skin as he hovered over you, eyes scanning every inch of your face.
“You alright, sweetheart?” he murmured, fingers brushing your cheek.
You nodded. Nervous, breathless, but aching to be touched again.
He kissed you slowly—deep, but unhurried. No rush now. Just the two of you in the quiet dark, the world outside silenced for once.
But when his hands slipped down to your waist, fingers hooking into your panties, you froze.
He noticed it instantly. That tiny flinch. The small intact of your breath.
“Hey,” he whispered against your lips. “Talk to me.”
You hesitated, then barely breathed the words, “I’ve… never done this before.” The words slipped out and suddenly you regretted it because why would he ever want a virgin?
His body stilled above you. His expression didn’t shift—no mockery, no surprise. Just something deeper in his eyes. Gentler. Protective.
You nodded quickly. “Y-Yeah. I’m a virgin.”
There was a long pause. His thumb gently stroked your hip, grounding you.
“You should’ve told me,” he said softly, voice low and sincere.
“I didn’t want you to stop...I just…” Your voice trailing off for a moment.
That made him smile. Slow. Dangerous. But full of something almost sweet.
“Oh, baby,” he whispered, leaning down to press a kiss to your throat, “I’m not stopping. But I am going to take my damn time with you.”
You whimpered as he kissed lower, lips tracing a path between your breasts, down your stomach, slow enough to make your skin burn.
“No rushing,” he murmured, settling between your thighs, his breath hot against your inner thigh. “No pain. No fear. Just you, melting for me.”
He removed your panties with reverence, like they were delicate silk. Then he just looked at you, lips parted, gaze dark and awed.
“You’re beautiful, you know that?” he said, dragging a knuckle slowly down your slit, making you arch into his touch.
“Shhh.” His fingers were back—one at first, rubbing slow circles over your clit. Then slipping down to tease your entrance. He didn’t even try to push inside yet—just circled, coaxed, explored. “I’m gonna stretch you nice and slow, baby. Gotta make sure you’re ready to take all of me.”
You moaned, legs falling open further for him. Your body finally relaxing as you bucked your hips against his fingers.
His finger dipped in—just the tip. Then back out. Then a little deeper. Patient. Gentle. Torturous.
“You’re so tight,” he groaned. “So warm. Your body’s gonna drive me fucking insane.”
You whimpered, hips lifting to chase his finger.
“I want you,” you breathed.
He looked up, eyes heavy-lidded and intense. “You have me. But I’m not just gonna fuck you, sweetheart.”
He crawled back up, kissing your neck, your jaw, brushing his cock—hard and hot—against your thigh.
“I’m going to make love to you. Slow. Deep. Until you forget you were ever untouched.”
And with one hand laced through yours and the other guiding himself to your entrance, he watched you carefully.
“You ready, sweetheart?” he murmured, lips brushing yours.
Your legs were already wrapped around his waist, his tip nudging against your entrance, teasing. Every nerve in your body was lit up like fire under his touch.
“Yes,” you whispered. “I want you.”
“Then you’ve got me,” he said, voice low and rough. “All of me.”
He pushed in slow—so slow you could feel every inch of him, stretching you open with a delicious ache. Your breath caught, your fingers clutching at his shoulders as he eased deeper. He paused halfway in, his forehead resting against yours.
“You okay?” he asked, voice strained.
You nodded, already trembling around him. “It just… it’s a lot.”
He chuckled softly. “Yeah, baby. I’m not small.”
You laughed breathlessly through the sting. He kissed you, a deep kiss to swallow the small gasp and then moved he again—sliding deeper, inch by inch, until his hips met yours. You gasped, full to the brim, the stretch sharp but slowly melting into pressure, pleasure, him.
“That’s it,” he groaned. “Taking me so damn good.”
He didn’t move yet. Just stayed there, buried inside you, his hand brushing your cheek, his lips kissing the corner of your mouth. Letting your body adjust. Letting you feel him.
Then he pulled back, just slightly, and thrust in again—slow, smooth, grinding against your walls.
Your moan was soft, involuntary. Your thighs squeezed around his waist.
“That feel good, baby?” he whispered.
You nodded, gasping. “Y-Yeah. So full…”
He kissed you again, deeper this time. His thrusts stayed slow, measured, like he had all the time in the world. He hit spots you didn’t even know existed, and every time he rolled his hips just right, your body shivered under him.
“You’re doing so good for me,” he praised, voice all gravel and heat. “So tight, so wet. Like your body was made for mine.”
Your nails dragged down his back, and he groaned—like he loved the way you clung to him, overwhelmed.
“Dante, I—I think I’m close,” you gasped, the heat inside you coiling fast.
“Let go for me,” he murmured, rocking into you. “Come while I’m deep inside you, baby. I want to feel it.”
His thumb brushed your clit at the same time, and your body shattered—back arching, mouth falling open as your orgasm rushed through you like a wave. You clenched around him, and he swore, hips faltering.
“Fuck, that’s it—god, you feel so fucking good—”
He thrust deeper, faster now, chasing his own high. Still controlled. Still gentle. But with that primal edge.
“I’m gonna fill you up,” he growled. “Gonna claim this sweet little pussy.”
You moaned helplessly, still riding the aftershocks, and with one final thrust, he buried himself to the hilt and came with a low, broken groan—his warmth spilling into you, his body collapsing against yours.
For a long time, neither of you moved. You just lay there, wrapped around him, completely full and completely his.
When he finally lifted his head, his eyes were soft. Tender.
“You okay, baby?” he whispered, brushing hair from your face.
You smiled, dazed, and nodded. “More than okay.”
He kissed your forehead. “Next time,” he said, smirking again, “you’re riding me.”
