DIMPLE
⊹₊ ⋆ You and Jungwon can’t stand each other, but you’re stuck in the same friend group. After a tense hangout, everyone else leaves and the two of you are alone. It starts off as an argument but quickly turns physical fast... years of tension, mean teasing, and your secret kink for his dimples explode into something rough.
𝙚𝙣𝙚𝙢𝙮! 𝙟𝙪𝙣𝙜𝙬𝙤𝙣 𝙭 𝙛𝙚𝙢! 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧 WARNINGS: Explicit sexual content, rough sex, rough handling, mean dirty talk, verbal teasing, light degradation, spanking, finger fucking, multiple orgasms, forced orgasm, overstimulation, marking, biting, bruising, wall sex, couch sex, unprotected sex, creampie, mild blood (lip bite), dimple kink, strong language wc: 5,236 🎧: dimple - bts
You never asked for this.
The group chat had been blowing up all afternoon. Jay insisting on “one last hang before the dorms get too chaotic.” Sunghoon already claiming the biggest couch in the photos he sent. Heeseung promising snacks he would definitely forget. Your own friends piled on just as hard. Maya texted an endless stream of pleading emojis that somehow managed to look judgmental. Sana sent a voice note that was mostly laughing and the words “if you don’t come I’m dragging you by the ankle.” Even Hana, usually the quiet one, dropped a simple "be there or we’re starting without you" that felt more like a threat than an invitation.
You stared at your phone for a long time. The other option was sitting alone in your empty apartment while everyone else laughed without you. That felt worse. So you went.
The other option being Yang Jungwon.
He was already there when you arrived, spread out in the corner of the living room like he owned the place, one long leg draped over the arm of the chair. Black hoodie, messy hair falling into his eyes, that permanent half smirk that made your blood pressure spike on sight. The second your eyes met across the room, the temperature dropped ten degrees.
“Look who finally decided to show up,” he said, voice light, almost bored. “Traffic that bad, or did you just need extra time to practice your resting bitch face?”
Maya, already resting on the arm of the couch with an open bag of chips, snorted into her drink. “Be nice, Jungwon. She actually showed up this time.”
You dropped your bag with more force than necessary. “Some of us have actual lives outside of looking pretty for the camera. Shocking concept, I know.”
Sana grinned from the kitchen doorway, two drinks in hand. “And she’s already arguing. This is going to be a long night.”
Jay groaned from behind her. “Can we not start already? It’s been five minutes.”
“We’re not starting anything,” you and Jungwon said at the exact same time, then glared at each other for the synchronization like it personally offended both of you.
Hana, quiet as ever, just raised one eyebrow and claimed the far end of the couch, clearly settling in for the show with the uncomplaining patience of someone who had seen this too many times before.
The rest of the evening was a fucking masterclass in passive aggression dressed up as a normal group hangout. Every time someone suggested a game, Jungwon somehow ended up on your team. Every time you reached for a drink, he was there first, taking the last can of the exact flavor he knew you liked and cracking it open with a little toast in your direction. When the conversation turned to weekend plans, he casually mentioned the cafe you both secretly loved and then claimed he’d “already gone with someone else,” watching the way your jaw tightened with open, lazy amusement.
Maya leaned over at one point and muttered under her breath, “You two are exhausting,” while Sana openly took side bets with Jake on who would snap first. Hana just kept sipping her drink and looking between the two of you like she was watching a slow motion car crash she had already predicted.
You tried to focus on your friends. You really did. Maya’s stories about her disastrous group project. Sana’s dramatic retelling of a date that ended with her climbing out a bathroom window. Hana’s quiet little comments that always landed harder than anyone expected. But Jungwon was always there. In your peripheral vision. In every conversation. Smiling that easy smile at everyone else while saving the sharp edges for you.
And those dimples.
Every time he laughed at something Jake said, they appeared… deep, perfect little dents in his cheeks that made him look softer than he had any right to be. You hated how your eyes kept finding them. Hated the low, unwanted twist in your stomach every single time. It wasn’t just noticing them. It was worse than that. It was a full body reaction. The second those dimples showed, something hot and stupid and shameful pulsed between your legs. You had spent months trying to ignore it, trying to tell yourself it was just a random physical feature and not something that made you wet. But it was. It was a fucking kink, and you hated yourself for it almost as much as you hated him.
You caught yourself staring again when he smiled at something Sana said. The dimples dug in deep, soft and boyish and completely unfair, and your thighs pressed together under the table before you could stop them. Jungwon’s eyes flicked to yours for half a second. The corner of his mouth twitched like he knew exactly what you were looking at.
By the time people started to trickle off, the apartment had already thinned out. Jake with an early schedule. Sunoo claiming he was “emotionally exhausted.” Ni-ki dragged out by Jay with a half hearted wave. Then Maya stood, stretching her arms over her head.
“I’ve got a morning class. Sana, you coming?”
Sana glanced between you and Jungwon, clearly reluctant to leave the tension behind, but finally sighed. “Yeah. Hana?”
Hana rose more slowly, giving you a long look that said "text me if he starts something and I’ll come back with a baseball bat." “Don’t kill each other. Or do. Just clean up after.”
And just like that, the door clicked shut behind the last of them. The muted variety show on the TV kept playing to an empty room. Empty snack bags littered the coffee table. It was just the two of you left in the sudden quiet.
You stood, gathering your things with deliberate calm. “I’m leaving.”
Jungwon didn’t move from the couch. “Door’s that way. Try not to slam it like last time. The neighbors complain.”
You turned on him fully. “What is your problem with me?”
He finally looked up, eyes sharp under the messy fall of his hair. “My problem? You’re the one who walks around like the world owes you something. Acting all soft with your little girl squad and then turning into a walking attitude the second I open my mouth.”
“Because every time you open your mouth it’s to be an asshole.”
“And every time you open yours it’s to act like you’re better than the rest of us.” He stood then, slow, deliberate. He was taller than you remembered when he wasn’t lounging. The black hoodie hung loose on his frame, but there was nothing soft about the way he moved. “You think I don’t notice? The way you roll your eyes whenever I talk. The way you freeze me out in group chats. The way you look at me like I’m something you stepped in. You don’t even try to hide it.”
“Maybe because you make it impossible.” Your voice was rising, heat climbing up your neck. “You poke and you tease and you act like everything’s a joke until someone actually gets tired of it. Then you act surprised when they push back.”
“Oh, so now I’m the problem?” He stepped closer. The coffee table was the only thing left between you. “You started this. First time we met you looked at me like I was something you scraped off your shoe.”
“Because you were already talking shit about people behind their backs five minutes after meeting them.”
“And you were already judging everyone from your little arrogant self, like your opinion was the only one that mattered.”
You were toe to toe now. Close enough to see the faint flush high on his cheeks, the way his jaw flexed when he was pissed. Close enough to smell the faint scent of his cologne mixed with something warmer underneath… skin and heat and the ghost of whatever he’d been drinking. Close enough that when he spoke, you could feel the words against your own mouth.
“I don’t like you,” you said, quiet and vicious.
“Feeling’s mutual.” His voice dropped into something lower, rougher. “So why the fuck do you keep looking at my mouth?”
The question landed like a slap. You hadn’t realized you were doing it. But his lips were parted slightly, and when he spoke the dimples appeared again… those deep, unfair dimples that made him look softer than he was, that made something low and shameful twist hard between your legs. Your stomach flipped. Your cunt throbbed. It was automatic. It was humiliating.
“I’m not—”
“You are.” He leaned in, breath warm against your cheek, voice almost gentle in its cruelty. “You always do. Every time I smile at someone else you look like you want to either kiss me or kill me. Haven’t figured out which yet. Your friends notice too, you know. Maya keeps giving me these looks like she’s trying to decide if she should warn you or me.”
“Shut up.”
“Make me.”
You shoved him.
It wasn’t hard. Just enough to make him take a step back, eyes flashing with something that wasn’t quite anger. Then he was on you… hand fisting in the front of your shirt, spinning you, walking you backward until your spine hit the wall hard enough to knock the air from your lungs. His other hand braced beside your head, caging you in. The impact sent a jolt straight down your spine.
“You like pushing,” he murmured, almost conversational, like he was commenting on the weather. “Let’s see how much.”
You shoved at his chest again. He didn’t move an inch. Instead he caught both your wrists in one hand and pinned them above your head with easy, casual strength that made your pulse stutter hard against your throat. His free hand slid down, fingers spreading over the side of your neck just enough to feel the frantic beat there. Not choking. Just holding. Claiming.
“Still hate me?” he asked, thumb brushing the edge of your jaw in a mockery of gentleness.
“Yes.”
“Good.”
He kissed you like he was trying to win an argument.
It was all teeth and heat, no softness, no careful exploration. You bit his lower lip hard enough to make him hiss into your mouth, and he fought back by grinding his thigh between your legs, pinning you harder against the wall. The sound that escaped you was humiliating… high and needy. Jungwon smiled against your mouth, and you felt those dimples press against your cheek. Deep. Soft. Completely at odds with the way he was currently trying to devour you.
The second you felt them, your whole body reacted. Heat flooded between your legs so fast it made you dizzy. Your hips jerked against his thigh without permission. A broken little sound slipped out of you, and Jungwon felt it. Of course he felt it.
He pulled back just enough to look at you, still smiling, dimples carved deep into his cheeks on purpose now. “There it is,” he whispered, lips brushing yours with every word. “That little noise. And that look. You really can’t help it, can you?”
There was a flicker of something softer under the teasing… almost fond… before the mean edge returned.
“Fuck you.”
“Planning on it.” He smiled wider, deliberately, watching the way your eyes dropped straight to the dimples and your thighs pressed together. “Oh my god. You’re actually getting wet from this. From my dimples. While I’m pinning you to the wall and you’re still trying to pretend you hate me.”
“I’m not—”
“You are.” His voice dropped into something darker, almost delighted, but the next words came out quieter, almost sweet. “It’s kind of cute, actually. The way you try so hard to look away and fail every single time.” Then the mean smile returned. “It’s a fucking kink, isn’t it? You get off on them. Every time I smile at someone else you sit there with your legs crossed, pretending you’re not throbbing. How long have you been like this? Months? Since the first time we met?”
You turned your face away, heat flooding your cheeks. He caught your jaw and forced you to look at him again, then smiled… slow, mean, and deep enough that the dimples looked almost obscene.
“Yeah,” he murmured. “That’s what I thought.”
His hand left your throat and shoved under your shirt without practice, palm hot against the bare skin of your stomach, then higher, rough over the thin fabric of your bra. He didn’t bother with gentleness. He squeezed, pinched, rolled a nipple between two fingers until your back arched off the wall and a broken sound tore out of you. When you tried to twist away he simply pressed closer, mouth finding the sensitive spot under your ear and sucking hard enough to leave a mark. Between rough bites he pressed a softer kiss to the same spot, almost apologetic, before biting again.
“You’re already soaked, aren’t you?” His voice was low, almost mocking, breath hot against the damp skin he’d just bitten. “Arguing with me gets you this worked up? Sitting across from me all night with that attitude while your friends watched, legs crossed so tight, staring at my fucking dimples like you wanted to sit on my face. Pathetic.”
Then, softer, right against your ear: “Pretty, though. The way you get all flustered.”
“You’re the one with a hard dick digging into my hip.”
“And I’m going to use it.” He released your wrists only long enough to yank your shirt over your head and toss it somewhere behind him. The bra followed a second later, straps yanked down your arms with impatient force. Cool air hit your skin for half a breath before his mouth did… hot, open, teeth scraping over the upper curve of your breast. He sucked a dark mark onto the soft flesh while his fingers worked the button of your jeans open with one handed efficiency. Between the rough sucks he pressed a few slower, sweeter kisses along the same path, like he couldn’t decide which version of himself he wanted to be.
You should have stopped him. You should have shoved him away and walked out and never looked back.
Instead you fisted your hands in the front of his hoodie and dragged him back up for another bruising kiss. He let you, only to bite down on your lip the moment you got too bold, hard enough that the taste of copper spread between you. Jungwon licked it away like it was nothing, then kissed the same spot softer, almost gentle, before diving back in.
Your jeans and underwear were shoved down your thighs in one impatient motion, fabric scraping over sensitive skin. The second the cool air hit your cunt he groaned, low and filthy, the sound vibrating against your collarbone.
“Fuck. Look at that.” Two fingers slid through your folds without warning, gathering the slick that had already soaked through. “Dripping. For me. While you still have that look on your face like you want to slap me. All because I smiled at you.”
“I do.”
“Then do it.”
You did. Open palm across his cheek, sharp and sudden. Not hard enough to really hurt, but the sound cracked through the quiet apartment like a gunshot. Jungwon’s head turned with the force of it, then slowly, deliberately, came back to face you. His eyes were dark, pupils blown wide. One of those dimples flickered as he smiled… mean, delighted, almost fond.
“Again.”
You hit him a second time. He caught your wrist on the third attempt and pinned it back to the wall above your head, then shoved two fingers into you in one smooth, ruthless thrust that stole the air from your lungs.
The stretch burned. You cried out, hips jerking against the sudden intrusion. He didn’t give you a second to adjust… just curled those fingers and started fucking them into you hard and fast, the wet sound of it obscene in the silence of the empty apartment. His thumb found your clit immediately and pressed down, rubbing tight, relentless circles while he watched your face like he was memorizing every flinch, every broken sound, every desperate little twitch of your hips.
“That’s it. Take it.” His voice was rough now, lower than you’d ever heard it. “You wanted this the whole time, didn’t you? Sitting across from me all night with that attitude, legs crossed so tight while your friends pretended not to notice. Bet you were thinking about my hands. Bet you were wet before I even touched you. Bet those dimples were the first thing that got you going.”
Between the mean words he leaned in and pressed a surprisingly soft kiss to the corner of your mouth, quick and almost sweet, before pulling back to watch your reaction.
“Shut… ah… shut up—”
“Make me.” He added a third finger without warning, the stretch punching a broken, high sound out of you that made his eyes flash with satisfaction. “You’re so fucking tight. Going to feel even better around my cock. Going to take me so deep you’ll still feel it tomorrow.”
He worked you open with deliberate cruelty, scissoring his fingers inside you, pressing against that spot that made your knees threaten to give out. Every time you got close… every time your thighs started to shake and your breath started to hitch… he slowed down, pulled almost all the way out, then slammed back in hard enough to make you cry out. Mean teasing. Exactly what you’d asked for without ever saying the words out loud. And yet between the rough thrusts he kept pressing soft little kisses to your jaw, your cheek, the corner of your mouth, like he couldn’t fully commit to being only mean.
“Look at me,” he ordered when your head fell back against the wall. “I want to see those eyes when you come on my fingers. Don’t you dare hide from me.”
You forced your gaze back to his. His dimples were deep now, cheeks flushed dark, hair falling into his eyes. The sight of them… those soft, boyish dimples on a face that was currently ruining you with three fingers and a mean smile… sent another gush of wetness down his hand. He felt it. Of course he felt it. His smile turned sharper, almost vicious with delight.
“Oh, you really can’t hide it.” He leaned in, almost nose to nose, and smiled wider on purpose just to watch your reaction. The dimples dug in deep. Your cunt clenched hard around his fingers. “These? You get this wet just looking at my dimples while I’m knuckle deep in your cunt? It’s a real kink, isn’t it? You get off on how soft they look while I’m being mean to you. Fucking pervert. Your friends would lose their minds if they knew their sweet little Y/N gets soaked over Jungwon’s dimples.”
Then, quieter, almost sweet against your lips, “It’s okay. I like it too.”
“Jungwon—”
“Say it.” His fingers curled hard inside you, pressing against that spot until your vision went white at the edges. “Tell me you like them. Tell me it’s a kink. Say it or I stop right now and leave you like this.”
You shook your head, pride still clawing at the last scraps of dignity. He slowed his fingers deliberately, almost pulling out completely, and the broken sound of protest that left your throat was humiliating.
“Say it.”
“I… fuck… I like them,” you gasped, the words torn out of you. “I like your stupid dimples, okay? It’s… god… it’s a fucking kink. I get wet every time I see them. Now don’t you dare stop—”
He didn’t.
He slammed his fingers deeper, faster, the heel of his palm grinding against your clit with every thrust. The wet, filthy sound of it filled the room. Your orgasm hit like a freight train… sudden, violent, thighs shaking hard around his wrist as you came with a broken cry that echoed off the walls. You clenched around his fingers so tightly he hissed through his teeth, but he didn’t stop. He worked you through it with ruthless precision until you were twitching and oversensitive and trying to twist away from the intensity. Through it he kept pressing soft kisses to your temple, your cheek, the corner of your mouth, a strange contrast to the way his fingers refused to stop.
Only then did he pull his fingers free. They glistened in the low light. He shoved them into your mouth without warning.
“Clean them.”
You did. Tasted yourself on his skin, while he watched, eyes heavy lidded and dark with something that looked a lot like hunger. When he was satisfied he yanked his own hoodie and shirt off in one motion, revealing the lean muscle of his chest and stomach, then shoved his pants down just far enough to free his cock. Thick, hard, already leaking at the tip. He stroked himself once, twice, smearing the slick from his fingers over the head until it glistened.
“Turn around.”
You didn’t move fast enough. He spun you with firm hands, pressed your chest flat to the wall, and kicked your feet further apart with one foot. The head of his cock dragged through your folds, teasing, collecting more wetness. You tried to push back onto him, desperate for more, but he held your hips still with bruising fingers.
“Ask nicely.”
“Fuck you.”
He slapped your ass hard enough to sting, the sharp crack of it loud in the quiet. The heat bloomed across your skin immediately. “Try again.”
Then, softer, right against the back of your neck: “Come on. You can do it.”
“Please,” you gritted out, forehead pressed to the cool wall. “Just… put it in.”
“Put what in where?” His voice was pure mockery, soft and cruel against the back of your neck. “Use your words, Y/N. You’ve been so good at running that mouth all night. Don’t get shy now.”
“Your cock,” you forced out, voice shaking. “In my cunt. Now. Please.”
He slammed in to the hilt in one brutal thrust.
The stretch was overwhelming… thick and sudden and so deep it punched the air from your lungs in a broken cry. Jungwon didn’t give you a second to breathe or adjust. He set a punishing pace immediately, hips snapping forward so hard the sound of skin on skin filled the room in a filthy rhythm. Every thrust punched another sound out of you. His hands gripped your waist hard enough to leave bruises in the shape of his fingers, yanking you back to meet every slam like he wanted to bury himself deeper than physics allowed.
“Fuck, you’re tight,” he growled against the back of your neck, voice rough and strained. “Taking me so well for someone who claims to hate me. Look at you. Arching back for more like you’ve been starving for it.”
Between the rough words he pressed open mouthed kisses to the back of your neck, some biting, some surprisingly gentle.
You could only moan in response, fingers scrabbling against the wall for any kind of purchase. He reached around without slowing, found your swollen clit, and rubbed in rough, tight circles timed perfectly with his thrusts. The double stimulation was almost too much. Your second orgasm built fast and mean, coiling tight and low in your belly until you were shaking with the effort of holding it back.
“Don’t come yet,” he ordered, breath hot against your ear. “Not until I say. You come when I let you.”
“I can’t—”
“You will.” He slowed deliberately, grinding deep instead of thrusting, keeping you right on the edge with the thick drag of his cock and the relentless pressure of his fingers. The denial made you want to scream. Then he did the meanest (and somehow sweetest) thing yet… he turned his head just enough that you could see his profile, and smiled.
The dimples appeared. Deep. Soft. Perfect.
Your cunt clenched so hard around him that he groaned.
“Oh, you fucking liked that,” he panted, still smiling on purpose, still grinding deep. “You just gushed around my cock because I showed you my dimples. While I’m balls deep in you. While you’re still trying to pretend this isn’t exactly what you wanted.” His voice softened for a second. “You’re so cute when you get like this.” Then the mean edge returned. “Say it again. Tell me how much you love them while I’m fucking you.”
“Jungwon… please—”
“Say it.”
“I love them,” you choked out, shame and pleasure tangled so tightly you couldn’t tell them apart. “I love your dimples. They make me so wet… fuck… please let me come—”
“Good girl.”
He picked up the pace again, brutal and deep and relentless, fingers working your clit without a single ounce of mercy. You came hard, walls fluttering and clenching around him, a broken sob torn from your throat as the pleasure crashed through you in waves. Jungwon fucked you through it without slowing, chasing his own release with short, sharp thrusts that kept the overstimulation going until you were shaking and oversensitive and half sobbing against the wall. Through it he kept pressing soft kisses to your shoulder and the side of your neck, a strange, sweet contrast to the way he refused to stop moving.
He pulled out suddenly. The emptiness made you whimper. Then he spun you back around, lifted you easily with his hands under your thighs, and carried you the few steps to the couch like you weighed nothing. He dropped you onto your back, shoved your legs open wide, and slammed back into you before you could catch your breath.
This angle was worse. Deeper. He braced one hand beside your head, the other gripping your thigh hard enough to bruise, and drove into you like he was trying to leave a permanent imprint of himself inside you. His face was above yours now… flushed dark, mouth open, those dimples flashing every time he gritted his teeth or smirked down at the wrecked expression on your face.
Every time they appeared, your body reacted. Another pulse of heat. Another helpless clench around his cock. He noticed. Of course he noticed.
“Still hate me?” he panted, voice rough, smiling on purpose just to watch you fall apart.
“Yes… fuck… yes—”
“Liar.” He leaned down and bit the side of your neck, hard enough to make you cry out, then licked over the mark and pressed a softer kiss there, almost gentle. “You love this. Love taking my cock after talking all that shit all night. Love my dimples even more. Look at you. Completely ruined over them.” His voice dropped into something quieter. “Pretty like this. All mine right now.”
You clawed at his back, nails digging into the muscle hard enough to leave red lines. He hissed and fucked you harder for it, the couch creaking under the force of his thrusts. Somewhere in the haze of pleasure and overstimulation you realized you were saying his name over and over… half curse, half prayer, completely broken.
He reached between your bodies again, fingers finding your swollen, oversensitive clit with unerring accuracy. “One more. Come on my cock one more time and I’ll fill you up. Give me one more. And look at me while you do it. Look at my dimples while you come.”
He smiled deliberately, deep and mean and perfect, and the combination of that visual with the relentless drag of his cock and the rough circles of his fingers shattered you. Your third orgasm tore through you longer and deeper than the others, leaving you limp and trembling and gasping for air that wouldn’t come. Jungwon followed a few thrusts later, burying himself to the hilt and coming with a low, broken groan against your throat. You felt the hot pulse of him inside you, the way he kept rocking through it in shallow little thrusts like he couldn’t stand to stop.
For a long moment the only sound in the apartment was your shared, ragged breathing.
He didn’t pull out right away. Just stayed there, forehead pressed to your shoulder, body heavy and warm over yours. When he finally lifted his head, those dimples were gone. His expression was unreadable… still sharp around the edges, but quieter. Softer in a way that made something dangerous flutter in your chest.
“We should clean up,” he said eventually, voice rough and low.
You stared at the ceiling, still trying to remember how to breathe properly. “Yeah.”
Neither of you moved.
His hand found yours on the couch cushion, fingers brushing once before he laced them together carefully. It was the softest thing he’d done all night. You didn’t pull away.
“Still hate me?” he asked again, quieter this time. Almost careful.
You turned your head and met his eyes. The dimples flickered when he almost… almost…smiled for real, small and private and nothing like the mean ones he’d worn while he ruined you. Your stomach still flipped at the sight. Even now. Even after everything.
“Ask me again tomorrow,” you said.
Jungwon huffed a quiet laugh that sounded almost like relief. Then he leaned down and kissed you properly… slow, soft, and sweet. No teeth. No fighting. Just warm lips moving gently against yours, lingering like he didn’t want to pull away. One hand came up to cup your cheek, thumb brushing lightly under your eye. When he finally drew back, his forehead rested against yours for a second longer than necessary.
“Okay,” he murmured. “Tomorrow.”
He pressed one more soft kiss to the corner of your mouth before finally pulling out. The emptiness made you wince. He stood, still half dressed, and offered a hand to help you up without a single sarcastic comment.
You took it.
The apartment was still quiet. The muted TV still flickered in the background. Outside, the city kept moving like nothing important had happened at all.
But something had.
Your phone buzzed on the table a few minutes later while you were still trying to find your shirt. A message from Maya, "you two kill each other yet or do I need to come back with the baseball bat?"
You stared at the screen for a long second, then locked it without answering.
Jungwon glanced over from where he was pulling his hoodie back on, hair even messier than before. “Your friends checking in?”
“Something like that.”
He didn’t push. Just handed you your shirt when he found it, fingers lingering a second longer than necessary against yours. Then, almost as an afterthought, he smiled… small, private, and deep enough that the dimples showed one last time.
Your body still reacted.
He saw it. And this time, the smile he gave you was quieter. Almost soft. He leaned in and stole one more gentle kiss, brief and sweet, before stepping back.
Tomorrow, maybe, you’d figure out what the hell this was.
Tonight, the hatred still tasted like the best thing you’d ever had. And the bruises spreading on your hips and the ache between your legs… and the way his dimples still made you weak, and the memory of that last soft kiss… felt like a promise neither of you was ready to name.
THE END
I've been busy, sorry for that guys. I still wanted to post something so here is something small! I have so many long fics in my drafts, so look out for that! I'll be out for the next week, so definitely when I come back!
wonluvzu taglist ;)
@royallycraftyimp @iiunique @nishimoona @yfyftd @iriskisser @aeinthe-void @jazz7gnab @en-muse @yangw0ni3 @lovingsublimecrusade @hommyy-tommy @zqxej @mailovesreading @letrasalvientoblog @heelvcr
