Roughly Fingering🔞

One hand stayed on your thigh—thumb tracing lazy circles, inching upward bit by bit.

The other slid up your back—fingers splaying between your shoulder blades, pressing you closer until your chests were flush.

You rocked against him instinctively—small, needy movement.

He groaned into your mouth.

The sound vibrated through you.

His hand on your thigh finally slipped beneath the dress—palm flat against your skin, sliding up until his fingertips brushed the edge of your underwear.

He paused.

Pulled back from the kiss just enough to look at you.

Eyes searching. Asking.

You nodded—breathless.

His fingers traced the lace edge—light, teasing.

Then slipped beneath.

You gasped.

He froze.

“Too much?”

“No,” you breathed. “Don’t stop.”

Relief and heat flashed in his eyes.

He moved again—slowly.

Fingertips gliding over sensitive skin, exploring, learning.

When he found the spot that made your hips jerk, he lingered—circling gently, watching your face the entire time.

Your head fell back.

A soft whimper escaped.

He kissed your throat—open-mouthed, warm.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” he murmured against your skin. “Letting me touch you. Trusting me.”

His fingers pressed a little firmer—sliding lower, teasing at your entrance.

You clutched his shoulders.

“Taehyung…”

“Tell me if it’s too much,” he repeated—voice strained with restraint.

“It’s perfect.”

He pushed one finger inside—slow, careful.

You moaned—quiet, broken.

He added a second after a moment—curling gently, stroking that spot inside that made stars burst behind your eyes.

Your hips rocked—chasing the rhythm he set.

His thumb found your clit—rubbing slow, firm circles.

Pleasure coiled tight and fast.

You buried your face in his neck—panting against his skin.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered. “Let go whenever you’re ready.”

His free hand cradled the back of your head—holding you close while his fingers worked you higher.

The tension snapped suddenly—white-hot, overwhelming.

You cried out—muffled against his throat—body shaking as waves crashed through you.

He didn’t stop right away—kept the movements soft, guiding you through every aftershock until you were limp against him.

Only then did he ease his fingers out—carefully, reverently.

He kissed your temple. Your cheek. The corner of your mouth.

2 part - Wedding Night 🔞

Your hands shook as you reached for his shirt—unbuttoning it slowly, pushing it off his shoulders.

Scars—old and new—marked his skin.

You traced them with gentle fingers.

Then with your lips.

He shuddered.

“Touch me,” you whispered. “Like before. But more.”

His eyes darkened with hunger—and love.

He lifted you—laid you back on the bed.

Kissed down your body—neck, collarbone, breasts—taking his time, tasting, teasing until you were arching, gasping his name.

When he reached your thighs, he paused—looked up.

“Tell me what you want, baby.”

“Everything.”

He smiled—wicked, tender.

Then he gave it.

Lips and tongue between your thighs—slow circles, gentle suction, fingers joining to stroke inside you until you were trembling, clutching the sheets, crying out as pleasure crashed over you in waves.

He didn’t stop until you were boneless—panting, glowing.

Then he crawled back up—kissed you so you tasted yourself on his tongue.

You reached between you—palmed him through his pants.

He groaned—head dropping to your shoulder.

“Need you,” you whispered.

He shed the rest of his clothes—quick, urgent now.

Then he settled over you—skin to skin, heat to heat.

He paused at your entrance—eyes locked on yours.

“I love you,” he said again—like a vow renewed.

“I love you.”

He pushed in slowly—inch by inch—watching your face for any sign of discomfort.

There was none.

Only fullness. Connection. Home.

When he was fully inside, he stilled—forehead against yours—breathing hard.

“You feel…” He swallowed. “Perfect.”

You wrapped your legs around him—pulling him deeper.

He moved then—slow rolls at first, building rhythm.

Every thrust deliberate—hitting that spot that made stars burst behind your eyes.

Your nails dug into his back.

His hand slipped between you—thumb circling your clit in time with his hips.

Pleasure coiled tight again—higher, hotter.

“Come with me,” he rasped.

You did—shattering around him, crying his name.

He followed seconds later—burying deep, groaning low and broken against your neck as he spilled inside you.

He didn’t pull out right away.

Just held you—still joined, hearts hammering together.

After long minutes, he eased out—careful—then gathered you against his chest.