Big scary dangerous yandere who can never keep his darling fully captive because she always sweet talks him into uplifting her restrictions that let's her escape and he always falls for it because he's just a big scary dangerous lover boy.
Summary: You walked in on them beating their meat.
Tags: Fluff, Childhood Friends, Suggestive
a/n: it won by a landslide TT_TT hehe it's a little rushed since it was originally a drabble i wrote! but i tweaked it a little! sorry it took so long than i promised @owenight i fell asleep and there was no electricity when i woke up lololol
You’d known Wooin for as long as you could remember.
Back when your parents’ drivers idled in matching black sedans outside your overpriced kindergarten, through the stiff, rule-choked years of elementary school where everything was neat, polished, and suffocating.
Even when he started acting out in middle school—becoming the kind of trouble other parents whispered about—you’d never really drifted.
Now, with all that prim upbringing long behind him, you still found yourself in his apartment more often than you should. You liked to call it a habit. Truth was, it was just… Wooin.
Which is how you ended up in his hallway, frowning at the unnatural quiet. No background music, no clatter from the kitchen, no trash talk through his headset.
Just… stillness.
“Wooin?” you called, stepping over the inevitable pile of sneakers dumped by the door.
You slid your bag onto the counter like you always did, still listening for any sign of life. Nothing.
The deeper you walked in, the more it felt like stepping into a snapshot mid-chaos—hoodie slung over the couch, shirt abandoned by the coffee table. You bent to grab it, smoothing it on instinct before folding it over your arm.
And that was when you noticed the faint glow coming from his bedroom—door slightly ajar from where you can see it down the hall.
You just rolled your eyes with a soft sigh.
Didn’t think much of it because Wooin was careless with privacy in his own home like that—you’d walked in on him gaming, sleeping, or just lying around more times than you could count. So this time wouldn't be any different.
Or so you thought.
But when you pushed it open, your breath hitched. Freezing up as the nagging you were about to unleash got stuck in your throat.
Eyes on him.
There he was, sprawled in his chair. Head tipped back just enough to bare the line of his throat, one hand wrapped tight around his cock, the other braced on his thigh. Headphones hung half-off one ear, lips parted, eyes heavy-lidded and locked on his monitor—where the porn blared, loud and wet.
Your brain stuttered, froze. The scolding you’d been ready to unleash got lodged somewhere in your throat. You didn’t even breathe for a second, heat shooting up your neck before your mind could catch up with what your eyes were seeing.
“W–Wooin—?” It tumbled out of you small and shaky, a warning, a question, a plea to erase the last three seconds.
His head snapped toward you instantly.
The look on his face—half startle, half oh-shit—was almost enough to make you back away. His eyes wide, hissing under his breath, and for the tiniest fraction of a second, he looked like he was going to scramble, cover himself, slam the door in your face.
But then his gaze locked on yours—and he didn’t look away.
Something about it—your wide eyes, your stunned expression, the way your mouth had fallen open—seemed to snap whatever restraint he had left.
His breathing hitched hard, his shoulders tightened, and his jaw flexed like he was biting down on something obscene. His hips gave one slow, shuddering jerk, and his head fell back again with a low, choked curse.
You saw it—saw him—spill over his fist, thick and messy, his chest rising and falling sharply as the obscene sound of it filled the quiet between you.
Your face flamed, your stomach flipping so violently you thought you might be sick. You turned halfway, hand flying up like it could block out the image searing itself into your head.
“Oh my god—!” you squeaked, your voice climbing high, breathless and panicked. Your knees felt weak, like just standing here was wrong.
You heard him inhale sharply, exhale slowly, before the room dipped into a silence so heavy it made your pulse pound louder.
Then—of course—it was him who broke it.
“…Fuck—fuck I really came.” His voice was rough, still riding the edge of what just happened.
“Have you ever heard of knocking?!” he groaned.
Your head whipped toward him, eyes wide, scandal coloring every inch of your face. “I didn’t think you’d be—doing that!”
He glanced down at the mess coating his hand, then back at you, smirking like a criminal caught red-handed. “What’d you think I do in here, princess? Knit sweaters?”
“You’re disgusting!”
“Yeah?” His smirk spread slowly and cocky. “Your face says otherwise—you’re blushing like you just saw your first dick.”
“I’m not—!” Your voice cracked and betrayed you instantly, and the grin that pulled across his face made you want to throw something at him.
You spun toward the hallway. “I’m leaving!”
The scrape of his chair made your pulse spike, bare footsteps padded after you.
“Oh no, you don’t get to just walk away after that,” he drawled, close enough now that his breath ghosted your ear.
You squeaked, stumbling forward. “Wooin—!”
“Relax,” he said, voice dropping to something that was both teasing and absolutely a problem. “Since you interrupted… maybe you should help clean up.”
Your head whipped toward him. “WHA–Stop! If you touch me with that I SWEAR—!”
“Oh?” His grin sharpened. “Little mess too much for you, princess?”
“That’s not a little—!”
He laughed so hard he bent slightly, still standing way too close, his boxers riding low enough to be a crime. “God, you’re fucking cute when you’re scandalized.”
You bolted, shoving past him, nearly tripping over your own feet as you beelined for the door.
“Next time,” he called after you, tone sing-song and wicked, “I won’t waste a drop!”
You grabbed the first thing your hand touched on his counter—a pen, maybe, or a screwdriver—and chucked it at him without turning around.
“You’re such a jerk!”
It clattered harmlessly against the floor, his laugh chasing you all the way down the hall. You didn’t look back, but you didn’t need to—you could hear the smirk in every single step until the elevator doors closed.
Hyuk's a psycho.
You’d known that for a while now—and hell if you cared. Because truthfully? He’s just a dumbass with an unhealthy passion for cycling, which sometimes feels like the most dangerous combination this earth could cough up.
It wasn’t unusual for you to swing by his place unannounced every few days, just to make sure he hadn’t landed himself in jail yet or finally kidnapped some poor stranger because he decided they “looked fast enough to race.” The odds weren’t exactly in your favor.
“Ugh—how many times have I told him to stop leaving his stupid keys under the doormat?” you muttered, fishing them out and letting yourself in.
The quiet hit you immediately—not the peaceful, cozy kind, but the weird, empty stillness that always clung to his apartment. Not surprising, considering Hyuk was basically a cryptid; if he wasn’t doing his part-time job or loitering around the crew for underground races, he was dead to the world in bed.
“Hyuk!” you called, dumping both the keys and your phone on his coffee table with a clatter. “I told you to stop leaving your keys under the mat! Your dumbass is gonna get robbed one of these days!”
Silence.
Not even a grunt from his bedroom.
You rolled your eyes, already shoving your hoodie halfway off as you made your way down the hall, ready to tear into him about his complete lack of self-preservation. Kicking his door open, you had that very specific frown on—equal parts annoyed friend and overworked babysitter—
Only to completely blank when it actually swung open.
Because—there he is.
By the bed.
Earphones in. Phone in one hand.
Cock in the other.
For a second, your brain didn’t quite register the scene. The hum of moanings from his earbuds was faint, his head tipped back against the wall, the lazy motion of his wrist so unbothered you almost wanted to punch him for it.
And then his eyes flicked open, slow, like you’d just interrupted the most casual Tuesday activity of his life.
“...You gonna stand there gawking, or close the damn door?”
You finally snapped back to life—cheeks heating so fast you almost felt dizzy, which you immediately masked behind your sharpest frown.
“It’s eleven. In the morning. WHAT THE fuck are you doing?!” you hissed, eyes darting away from his still-angry dick like it might burn holes into your corneas.
Hyuk groaned—not the embarrassed kind, not even the caught-red-handed kind. No, it was that lazy, put-out noise he makes when something interrupts his nap.
“What, I can’t get horny in the mornings now?” he muttered flatly, shoving himself back into his boxers with all the care of someone tying garbage bags.
He sat up, rubbing the back of his neck like you were the problem here.
“I literally come here to make sure you haven’t committed a felony yet and THIS is how you greet me?!” you snapped, pacing at the foot of his bed like a scandalized babysitter. “Do you know how traumatized—how mentally scarred—how tainted my innocent soul is now?!”
He just blinked at you, clearly not sharing your sense of urgency over your corrupted purity.
“I wasn’t even done,” he grumbled under his breath, standing with a stretch like you’d interrupted him mid-TV show.
“Don’t you say that like I’m supposed to feel bad for walking in on—”
“—You literally barged into my house,” he cut in.
You threw your arms up. “I knocked! Your dumbass left your keys under the mat again! Of course I’m gonna check on you! What if you were dead?!”
Instead of replying, Hyuk reached out and—without breaking his flat, bored expression—gave you a single, almost brotherly pat on the shoulder.
“There, there,” he said, voice utterly devoid of sympathy. “You’ll be fine.”
It was only when both your eyes drifted—at the same time—to the exact hand resting on your shoulder that the air between you froze.
You stared at him. He stared back.
“…You didn’t,” you breathed in horror.
His mouth twitched, just barely, like he was considering lying but decided it wasn’t worth the energy.
“Welp,” he said simply, retracting his hand. “My bad.”
You screamed—
Lunging for him before you could think better of it. Your arm hooked around his neck in a messy headlock, dragging him down to your level while he laughed under his breath, the sound annoyingly amused.
“Apologize!” you demanded, tightening your grip.
“That’s not how apologies work,” he said, voice slightly muffled but still aggravatingly steady.
Then, because he’s Hyuk and his brain is wired for chaos, he tilted his head enough to murmur, low and deliberate, “Y’know… if you wanted to choke me, you could’ve just asked.”
You froze for half a second—long enough for him to smirk—before tightening your hold to the point he actually coughed.
“Not that kind of choke!” you barked.
“Sure,” he rasped, still somehow sounding like he was enjoying this.
By the time you let go, you were out of breath from yelling, he was out of breath from being an ass laughing, and the smug look on his face made you want to put him right back in that headlock again.
It wasn’t anything special, really.
It was just something you do sometimes—when your mother ends up making too many side dishes, or when she wants you to go share some of the fresh lettuce from your grandmother’s over to some of your close neighbours.
And Hajun’s family just happened to be one of them—close enough that you’ve practically grown up together, playing in the same streets and occasionally having dinner over at theirs, or vice-versa. Especially now that he’s in a little tight spot these days, having to take care of his two younger brothers when their parents dipped out.
Their house wasn’t that far, just a house away from yours—and not very secure either, considering they barely close the gate—but it’s not like that matters, considering Hajun’s known for being…protective, and very much capable of defending their home.
So you barged in, a basket full of freshly washed radish in arms, ducking slightly as you stepped through their gate—calling out intrusion and immediately noticing the quiet. His brothers should be out, in their own schools, but Hajun should be home around this time.
“Yo?” you called, standing dumbly in their living room. “Hajun? My mom wants to give some radish, come get it.”
But you were met with nothing—no answer, no rustling, no footsteps that could be his. So you walked further, walking straight to the kitchen to place it by the table and glancing around—the place is clean and neat, there’s a covered dish by the stove. He should be home.
And your conclusion was proven to be true when you heard a deep grunt from one of the bedrooms right by the corner—the one closest to the living room, the room you knew Hajun took over recently.
And maybe that should’ve been the sign for you to walk away, to leave, to get the fuck out—but no, you didn’t.
Instead, you walked up to the bedroom door, face still the same carefree one you had when you broke inside their house for some radish delivery—hand turning the knob with casualness you’ve grown for them throughout the years.
And the door opened in a careful push, along with your head as you poked inside.
“Hey—you okay in there?”
And God.
God, you should’ve walked away.
Because there he was—sitting on the edge of his bed, one hand gripping his phone, earphones dangling around his neck… and his other hand wrapped around himself. Moving. Slow, then fast, then slow again. Brows furrowed, lips parted, chest tight with every breath, and from the faint tinny moans coming from his phone—you didn’t need a degree to know what you’d just walked into.
The world went silent.
You froze. He froze.
The only thing moving was the ceiling fan.
Then the porn cut off with a sharp tap of his thumb, and Hajun moved—snapping forward to cover himself, his ears going bright red.
“What the hell are you doing here?!” he barked, voice breaking halfway between anger and panic.
“…My bad,” you said faintly, closing the door like you’d just stepped into the wrong changing room at the mall.
You barely made it three steps before you heard him scrambling—pants yanked up, shirt pulled over his head, stomping after you.
“W-wait—hold on!”
“AAAAAAAAAAAH!” you screamed, whipping around so fast you almost gave yourself whiplash. “HAJUN! YOU—YOU PERVERT!”
He stopped dead when you dropped like a sack of potatoes onto your knees in the entryway, clutching your head like you’d just seen a murder scene.
“Oh my god—oh my god—” Your voice cracked, your breath coming in shallow bursts. “My eyes—Hajun—I’m tainted forever—I saw your—” Your voice broke entirely, devolving into pathetic hiccups.
“Oh for—” He crouched in front of you, trying to pull your hands away from your face. “It’s not that serious.”
“NOT THAT SERIOUS?!” you wailed, the sound bouncing off the walls. “I watched Doraemon with you! I made you soup when you were sick! I—I saw your baby pictures! And now—now—” Your voice went high and trembling. “Now I’ve seen your thing—”
“That’s what you’re freaking out about?” He sighed, rubbing his face like he was already exhausted. “You act like it’s a cursed object or something—”
“DON’T TOUCH ME!” you shrieked when his hand landed on your shoulder.
He blinked. “…Why—”
“THAT’S THE SAME HAND!” you accused, pointing at it like it was a loaded weapon. “THE SAME ONE! I’M GONNA PASS OUT—”
“Don’t be ridiculous—”
But you were already swaying forward, face pale, breath shallow like your body decided the only logical escape was unconsciousness.
“Hey—hey, don’t you dare faint in my house,” Hajun said quickly, catching you by the elbows before you could topple sideways.
You groaned, weak and dramatic. “I’m gonna need therapy.”
“You need to chill,” he muttered, but his grip stayed steady. “Seriously, you’re acting like I held a gun to your head—”
“WORSE,” you gasped. “You held—that—”
His mouth twitched, like he was seconds away from laughing. “You’re unbelievable.”
“I’m pure!” you sobbed.
“You’re delusional,” he corrected, but softer this time, setting you back upright.
And that was when his hand brushed yours again.
The same hand.
You froze. He froze.
Your eyes dropped to it like it was some cursed relic, then slowly climbed back up to meet his.
“…Don’t,” you warned, your voice barely more than a whisper.
“I’m not dirty—” he started, almost defensive.
“SHUT UP!” you exploded, jabbing a finger at him like a priest about to perform an exorcism. “YOU WERE BEATING YOUR JUNK LITERALLY TWO MINUTES AGO!”
The sheer conviction in your voice must’ve carried, because you immediately keeled over onto his floor in dramatic despair, clutching your head like you’d just survived a war crime.
He just stood there, staring down at you, your accusation clearly lodging itself somewhere deep in his brain. His jaw worked once. Twice. And then—
“…Was my dick that ugly?” he asked in quiet defeat, the words falling like a confession at a funeral.
You wailed even louder, curling in on yourself, because—God help you—it wasn’t ugly. It was so stupidly pretty you’d rather stab your own eyes out than admit it out loud.
Vinny’s a jerk.
But he’s a jerk you care about—so even if you know he’s just going to insult your cooking (with that unimpressed, deadpan delivery of his) before inhaling every last bite like a starving animal, you still find yourself showing up at his place with whatever questionable culinary creation you whipped up after spending way too long scrolling through random recipes online.
And it’s not like he actually told you to stop.
Okay—technically, he did. Affectionately. With a light bonk to your head and a muttered, “Quit wasting ingredients on me, idiot.” But that’s basically Vinny-speak for “I’ll keep eating it, thanks.” The man is allergic to gratitude, so you’ve learned to translate.
Which is why you’re here now, skipping your way down the familiar cracked sidewalk to his place with a pot of pasta balanced carefully in both hands. The pot’s still warm through your fingers, steam puffing up to fog your glasses for half a second as you hum some nonsense tune under your breath. You nudge his squeaky gate open with your knee, a small grin tugging at your mouth like you do own the place.
You glance toward the front of the yard, eyes catching on the lone bike leaning against the wall. No cluster of extra tires, no mismatched helmets—none of the other hummingbird crew’s rides. Good. His friends must be out, leaving Vinny to either nap, sulk, or channel his inner assholesery in peace before work.
The air smells faintly of oil and detergent, that mix of clean clothes and bike grease that’s so him. The living room light’s on, curtains half drawn. You can hear something faint deeper inside—either the low drone of a TV or Vinny muttering to himself.
So—you kicked the door open.
“I’ve come bearing gifts!” you announce dramatically—
—and then your brain just bluescreens.
Because apparently, his surprise is a lot more… vivid than yours.
The first thing you register is the messy futon on the floor.
The second is the very obvious state of his lap—cock flushed and angry in his hand, mid-stroke.
The third is the moans blaring from his phone speaker, obnoxiously loud in the dead quiet of the room.
His face is caught between pleasure and pure panic, eyes squeezed shut, jaw tight. For a good three seconds, neither of you moves—you frozen in the doorway with your stupid grin still plastered on, him frozen like a criminal caught under a spotlight.
He finally twitches—snaps his phone shut like he’s slamming a vault door, shoves himself back into his pants with too much force, and just sits there. His ears and cheeks are burning red, and he doesn’t even bother opening his eyes.
“I’m gonna count to three,” he grits out, voice low like he’s hanging onto dignity by a thread, “and if you’re not gone from my doorstep, I’m hanging you upside down from my ceiling.”
You blink.
“…Does this mean you’re not hungry?” you blurt before your brain can stop you.
His head snaps toward you so fast you swear you hear his neck crack.
“ONE.”
You squeak, stumbling back—your heel smashing into the shoe rack and sending a sandal flying. The pot wobbles dangerously in your hands, the lid rattling like a warning bell.
“Wait—! I didn’t— I wasn’t—!” you stammer, taking another step back—straight into the edge of the doorway, which jabs into your hip hard enough to make you yelp.
“Two.” His voice drops even lower, the kind of calm that says he’s one second away from combusting.
“I just wanted to feed you!!” you whine, shuffling sideways like that’ll somehow get you out faster.
In your scramble, your elbow clips the doorframe, the pot nearly tips, and in your desperate attempt to steady it—you trip over your own foot and bonk your forehead right into the post outside.
You ended up on the ground, pot a lot safer than your behind had been.
The pain shot up at once, from your forehead and your hips—making you sniffle an, “Ow!”
That’s when he stops. You can almost hear the sigh deflating out of him. He drags himself up, muttering something under his breath you’re 80% sure is “Fucking dumbass—,” disappears for a second, then reappears with a damp hand—clearly just washed—and a small box of bandaids.
Without a word, he slaps one onto your forehead like he’s sticking a label on a jar.
You blink up at him, still holding the pasta like a peace offering.
“I-I’M LEAVING—”
He takes it from you without looking at your face, shoulders tense.
“Inside. Sit. Eat. Shut up.” His voice is clipped, almost bored, but the tips of his ears are still red.
Then, as he turns toward the kitchen, he tosses over his shoulder, “Say one word about this and I’ll hang you upside down ‘til your brain leaks out your nose.”
shameless smut. aphrodisiac. established RS. mating press.
note: it sucks that WB ended like that and i'm not exactly an emotional asshole but i'm genuinely upset because it's my current hyper fixation. i hope this would help even a little to get that issue out your head.
vinny’s not the horny type.
or at least—he never was.
usually soft. distant. the kind of boyfriend who flinched at PDA, who brushed your hand in public like he was scared someone might see. you’d gotten used to his quiet affection—the way he handed you drinks first, walked on the street-side of the sidewalk, wordlessly folded your laundry.
you didn’t date him expecting fireworks.
but now?
he's unrecognizable.
“shit—fuck—clench again,” he pants, voice a low, strangled rasp as he drives into you with reckless, uncoordinated thrusts, his hands digging into your hips like he’s trying to anchor himself to something real.
his knees dig into the mattress, hips grinding against yours in frantic, messy rolls—more pressure than rhythm, more need than care. the way he fucks you now isn’t about control. it’s about chasing—ruthlessly, blindly, selfishly—whatever high he’s teetering on the edge of.
“vin—vinny—” you gasp, words breaking on a sob as his cock drags over your too-sensitive walls again. “w-wait—slow down—!”
but he doesn’t hear you.
or maybe he does, and doesn’t care.
he hisses through his teeth, burying his face against your neck, lips grazing your skin as his fingers spread your ass wider, pulling you against him harder, deeper.
“can’t,” he pants. “can’t fucking stop, love—feels too good—fuck—fuck—”
you whimper under him, body bouncing from the force of his thrusts, the bedsheets damp and twisted beneath you, his shirt still clinging to his sweat-slicked back. he isn’t even trying to make it good for you—he’s just using you, chasing his orgasm like he’ll die if he doesn’t get there.
“so fucking tight—” he grunts, voice breathy, shaking with effort. “god—i needed this—needed you—fuck—”
you feel his cock twitch, dragging over the same overstimulated spot again and again, the grind of his hips rough and mindless. his whole body jerks with every rut, like he can’t get close enough, like he wants to crawl inside you.
“vinny—please—” you whisper, though you don’t even know what you’re asking for anymore. a break? a kiss? a little tenderness?
but all you get is another grunt, another sloppy roll of his hips, another muttered curse into your throat as he grips your waist tighter.
he's gone.
utterly lost.
“gonna cum—shit, i’m gonna fucking—” he gasps, hips stuttering, pace even rougher now as he chases it like he doesn’t even realize how hard he’s shaking you. “fuckfuckfuck—”
you cry out as he finally slams in one last time, cock pulsing deep inside you, his entire body going rigid as he spills with a groan torn straight from his chest.
he stays buried there, shivering, panting, sweat dripping down his back. the room is quiet except for the wet sounds between you, the sound of your breath catching in your throat.
he doesn’t move for a long time.
and when he finally does—when he pulls out, slow and sticky and still hard—you don’t even look at him.
he pants, forehead pressed to your shoulder, arms trembling.
“…fuck,” he mumbles, dazed, chest still heaving.
his cock twitches inside you—still buried deep, still thick and leaking, still aching to keep going. he doesn’t move. doesn’t pull out. doesn’t even blink.
just stares down at where your bodies are joined, the slick mess between your thighs, the soft flutter of your walls around him like you’re still trying to hold him in.
“vinny—?” you whisper, weak.
but instead of answering, his hands slide under your thighs, palms warm and shaking as he lifts—folds—you up, pressing your knees against your chest until you’re spread open beneath him, completely bared.
you whimper at the new angle, breath catching as your sore, overstimulated body trembles under the stretch.
“vinny, i—”
“not done,” he says roughly, leaning over you, his forehead resting against yours for a breath before he starts to move.
not like before.
not reckless or messy.
this time it’s deep, grinding, hips rolling slow with tight, desperate control—like he’s chasing the exact drag, the perfect angle to keep himself buried inside you for as long as he can.
his eyes flutter shut. “fuck—fuck, this angle’s unreal.”
your hands cling to his shoulders, nails digging into the sweat-damp fabric of his shirt still clinging to his back. he’s too heavy, too warm, too deep. and yet somehow, you’re still begging for more.
“vinny—i can’t—it’s—”
“you can,” he pants, thrusting deeper. “look at you—still wet, still fluttering around me like you want this. like you’re made for it.”
you sob under him, head tossing back into the pillow, body twitching as his cock presses up against every bruised, aching spot inside you.
“don’t say that—i’ll—I’m gonna—”
“go ahead,” he mutters, hands tightening around your thighs as he presses them tighter to your chest. “do it. cream on my cock again. fuckin’ take it.”
your breath punches out of you—sharp, broken—as your third orgasm slams into you with no warning. your thighs shake violently, voice caught in your throat as your pussy clenches around him, soaking his length with another rush of slick.
vinny groans—loud, like he felt it in his soul—and his hips start to stutter.
“shit—fuck, you feel like you’re in love with me.”
“vinny—” you whimper, voice wrecked.
he doesn’t slow down.
he drives into you harder, faster now, chasing his own high with frantic, grinding thrusts that make you cry out with every slap of skin on skin.
you’re so sensitive it hurts, nerves fried and body twitching, but he’s gone—lost in it, all sweat and teeth and bruising kisses against your neck.
and when he finally cums again, it’s deep.
his hips slam forward, cock twitching, hot release flooding your already full cunt as he moans your name into your throat.
you both collapse—his body heavy on yours, cock still buried deep, your legs still folded up and trembling from the aftermath. you’re sticky and sore and breathless, lungs struggling to catch up.
vinny doesn’t move. just breathes raggedly against your neck, arms trembling as they slowly unwind from your thighs.
“…shit,” he whispers, voice hoarse. “didn’t mean to—wasn’t trying to be—fuck, i’m sorry.”
his hands skim down your sides, unsure, shaky, like he’s grounding himself with the feel of your skin. his lips brush over your thigh—soft, shaky. almost reverent. almost guilty.
you blink up at the ceiling, dazed. “you’re insane.”
he huffs against your skin, nose nudging into the crook of your neck. “i think the chocolate did something to me.”
you manage a weak laugh. “you’re banned from it. forever.”
“i didn’t mean to… to go that hard,” he mumbles. his voice breaks a little, low and breathless. “you okay?”
you card your fingers through the damp hair at his nape, tugging gently. “hey. breathe.”
“i—yeah. okay.” he swallows hard, pressing a kiss to your jaw like he needs to be forgiven. “i just… you felt too good. i couldn’t stop. i didn’t hurt you, right?”
“you owe me a hundred ice packs and two baths,” you murmur, your tone teasing but your hand soothing as it strokes down his back.
he smiles—barely. “and… three orgasms. i still owe you those.”
“vinny—babe—”
“…just one more?” he breathes, already shifting like he might move again, though his body’s still shaking, his cock twitching inside you like it doesn’t want to leave.
you hold him tighter, stilling him. “no. no more. not now. just stay.”
he stills, finally, forehead resting against yours as he lets out a long, shaky sigh.
“…love you,” he whispers, voice soft and raspy.
you kiss the corner of his mouth, gentle. “you’re still a menace.”
he nods faintly, a smile tugging at his lips, even through the haze.
“…your menace,” he murmurs.
but this time, when he twitches like he might move again—you tug him back down, firm and warm and real.
Might make a part 2 for this, and even maybe for lookism.
Summary: Windbreaker boys coming back home from rough training to spend their leftover energy and anger on their lover , in a horny way
Warning: smut, backshots,throatfucking and fingering
Pairing: Joker , Hyuk , Vinny and Wooin x GN Reader!
HYUK, Well he wasn’t exactly himself when he arrived back at your shared apartment , he was usually silent only saying hello when he passed by you towards the shower to refresh his sweaty state, but only this time he stood infront of you discarding his clothes in a hurried way.
Slap , slap , slap , smack , smack , smack
what felt like an hour was just 20 minutes, and what felt like 20 minutes felt like eternity, hyuk’s harsh thrusts from behind you pulling you back onto earth. Becoming aware of what was happening after zoning out , it almost seemed like hyuk was waiting for you to notice.
He was positioned behind you, his back against the beds headboard, your thighs spread legs draped on his thighs not allowing you to close them to hide your embarrassment , his cock slowly being sucked inside from when he pulled out leaving only the tip in, stretching you out harshly with his girth making you squirm and groan, only when he starts thrusting up into you again, your arms being forced behind by his grip on your wrists is when you started moaning wildly allowing yourself to lose control hands flying to grip at his hair behind you,
“Just hang on, I’m almost finished..—“
He says, but something tells you this isn’t the end, yet.
You were asleep in only his shirt and underwear/boxers , it was a very silent night you had done your assignments shutting your laptop shut, tiredly walking to the bed and falling down onto it sleeping as soon as your head touched the pillow, not long after that you woke up by a needy JOKER
“Hey, I know your awake, open your eyes.” His voice rang through your ears like music making you creak your eyes open to look up at the blue haired boy who was now sitting at the edge of the bed , wiping the sleepiness from your eyes you stare at him confused. He was still in his training outfit , and by the looks of it he didn’t even bother.
“What, why did you wake me up? Is something wrong?” The boy shook his head slowly scratching his head shyly , everything clicked together once your eyes made eye contact with the bulge in his pants, slowly crawling over to him you grope his hard-on with your palm earning a breathy gasp from him.
“Seriously? Next time just shove it down my throat. Waking me up for stuff like this..” mumbling under your breath , you unzipped his pants pulling his dick from his boxers letting it free , it was hard his tip was red and warm, whenever you touched it and wrapped your finger around it you felt it twitch in your palm. Moving some hair from your face you slowly took him down your throat.
His hands pushed down your head making you swallow him whole, he sighed letting his head fall back , he breathed out a small “ thank you” letting you continue your job, he started getting bored with your small set pace and took matters into his own hands roughly thrusting back into your abused mouth ignoring the way your hands slapped weakly against his thigh as a sign for him to slow down, but he was way to pent up and horny to care.
“I’m sorry, let me be selfish tonight..—“
It was no secret , VINNY had a small temper , he was very rough with whatever he was doing , racing, talking and even sex. So, why would he slow down on his partner? I mean, that’s what they like anyways.
“Mhm..! Right there , fuck, yeah..!”
The sound of your voice echoed through the empty house , Vinny’s rough hands gripped onto each sides of your hips to ground hisself fucking back into your sloppy hole , arching your back deeper to allow him against your g-spot/cervix letting him hear whimpers you haven’t made before only boosting his ego further
“Right there ? Is that your sweet spot? , want me to keep fucking you?”
He slapped your jiggling ass stinging the flesh decorating it with his handprint , he rested one hand on your lower back and one into your hair harshly tugging you back from the pillow while it was hiding your muffled moans, you whined at the loss of thrusts he was giving you.
“I’m still not hearing an answer.”
“Y-yeah, please keep fucking into me like that Vinny..I need you deep inside wan’ have your cum inside of me! Fill me up with you —“
“Atta bitch.”
When he finally got his answer Vinny continued to fuck you deep and rough into the mattress , forcing you face down into the pillow again letting you cry and babble into it , his mouth next to your ear mumbling insults and praises your hairs on your neck standing at his voice , how you loved him like this.
He was a man of action , not words, he never used words. So when WOOIN spread your legs taking off your pants, you knew you were in for a ride , a wild ride and he wasn’t letting you buckle up in time.
“I just wonder how a small person like you can handle 4 fingers at once, it’s very impressive most people would’ve tapped out. That’s why your my favorite , do you like being my personal toy?”
His fingers pumped into your hole effortlessly a very intrigued expression on his face watching yours contort into a messy one, you were between the lines of cumming or lasting a few more minutes to feel the adrenaline even better .
“Wooin, I feel w-weird , slow down..ah”
His lips tugged into a smirk , tongue licking at your neck , down to your collarbone , then to your chest to lick at your abandoned nipples who had been exposed to the cold becoming hard nubs. He toyed with them his piercing slightly grazing over them, sending lightning jolts over your entire body as his fingers worked magic deep inside of you.
“You feel weird hm? Do you wanna cum, but it’s a little too fast don’t you think?” Wooin said leaning closer to your face breath fanning over you, you try to desperately connect your lips with his but he keeps backing off each time you nearly kiss him. You whimper when he pulls his fingers out once he noticed your hole tightening on his digits.
“I say we take it even slower, where’s the fun in giving you what you want so easily?”
It was even funny of you to think he’d let you decide the pace , it was worth a shot.
It’s been long since I wrote a smut again, and I’ve been a fan of windbreaker lately so expect a lot of smut from it.
Summary: the most random thing you do and suddenly he has an urge to kiss you
A/N: I was needing an excuse to write Hyuk after seeing the recent chapter feat. the pic below 😔
Hyuk:
It’s primal. An instinct that tells him it’s either now or never. You’re only applying lip balm using one of those squeezy-tubes like normal. But for some reason, the way you place it today awakened something inside him. Eyes wide and glowing as they stay trained you, taking in how you smear the balm side-to-side to further make your lips fuller and glossy. Intrusive thoughts enter his mind; what it tastes like, if it’ll tint his lips, and most of all, how you would react. And who is he to stop himself to get what he wants?
“Okay, what do you think of this-”
His hand slides under your chin to gently tilt your head back as he looks at you half-lidded. He observes how your expression morphs from shock to shyness while keeping his lips locked on yours.
Too bad it doesn’t last a full minute, letting you go so you’d regain the breath that literally got stolen out of you while also not wanting to hear you complain like last time how your neck hurts.
While you recover, he takes the moment to swipe some of the balm off his lips with his tongue.
“Oh my- you tasted it, didn’t you?” Your temper leaves, laughing instead at how confused he looks, unsure what to make of the rich fragrance coming from it yet tasting like nothing and making his lips sticky. He’s sure to find out later on that it also tints his lips when he tries to get it off only to receive a strange look and a question if he had recently been into make-up by Wooin (to which he ends up placing it down on his list of never-to-do-again once you send a selfie photo you took after the incident, his lips what you describe as more healthier and plush).
Wooin:
His pupils dilates, trying to take in the whole sight while covering the lower half of his face with a hand so he could hide the matching, manic grin. He’s seen you multiple times rolling your head to relieve all the tension that builds up from all the “stress” you accumulate when hanging out with him. Yet, he’s suddenly hyperware how exposed your neck is, the two areas in particular being the crook of your neck and nape.
“You really need to stop teasing the other teams. Like, what if you mess with the wrong team?” Your eyes stay closed, continuing your self-care routine without realizing the expression he’s making.
He takes this as a chance, humming with half-hearted “yeahs” as he quietly gets up and approaches you from the back. Then, once he’s gotten close enough, he wraps his arms around you which finally gets your attention. But unable to wait, he uses his hand to turn your head towards him. His eyes narrow in glee at your face flushing, your eyes fluttering close in acceptance after pressing his lips against yours.
Knowing that he’s already pushing and can’t go any further, he breaks away after a few seconds. He has to admit, it’s a first for him to feel extremely satisfied with this short of a kiss. But after looking down, he’s reminded that it’s worth it as he smirks at the steam coming out of your head, the roles reversed where it’s now you covering your face with both hands.
“Aw babe, did you get shy from a kiss?”
“Just… shut up.”
He, in fact, doesn’t and continues to tease you until you end up completely fed up and start ignoring him. Hence his bad mood when he meets the rest of the team, snapping at Hyuk when he guess right that he managed to piss you off again.
Joker:
It’s just food, specifically a crumb from a corn dog. All it does is simply stay on the corner of your lips while you happily take more bites from your food. Yet he’s having to gulp, throat suddenly becoming parched and dry. He doesn’t blame you for not noticing the change in his gaze, cold-steel morphin into molten metal as he continues to look at you. He wishes that you did though, then it would’ve made things a bit easier for him and not feel as guilty to what he’s about to do next.
“This is so good! Where did you find this place?”
He’s careful not to scare you as he places both hands on both your cheeks gently, using a thumb to swipe the crumb off while trying to maintain the bit of self-control he has left.
“Hajun?”
And that does it.
Leaning down, he closes the gap between the two of you. It’s not passionate or overwhelming but sweet and heart-warming in a way where he’s telling you that he loves you unconditionally without words. His eyes closed while yours gradually shuts, the kiss brief yet fulfilling for him, where there’s a hint of a smile on his face from you pressing your face against his chest while returning his hug back afterwards.
He didn’t appreciate getting caught in the act by his siblings of all things when he gets home with a bag full of snacks he promised he’d get them only for the youngest to ask why he was squishing his face against yours. Nor does he know how to feel when it’s the older one of the two that plays damage control only to scold him to be more mindful of showing PDA.
Vinny:
It’s your smile. He loves how you smile, whether it’s from laughing or simply for no reason. It means that you’re happy.And with how you always happen to do so whenever you’re with him, it gives him emotions he never knew he was capable of feeling and wants to disappear.
So when you happen to see matching phone straps being sold at those small vendor carts, you smile.
“Look, Vinny! Aren’t these cute?”
It’s the same smile he’s seen multiple times. Pairing that with the sparkles coming from your eyes, it gives soft vibes. So when did he become the type to want to kiss someone out of cute aggression?
“Yeah, sure.” There’s strain in his voice which you brush off as his usual shyness when he’s making fists, trying to hold himself back. After all, it’s a first for him and completely out of character for him to feel this way. The last thing he needs is to take you off guard and do something he’ll regret-
“See? Wouldn’t these look great?” You raise the phone straps with their respective couple’s charm up by your face.
It takes the pressure and embarrassment away having seen the vendor owner leave for a bit when he tilts his head down towards you. One hand on your cheek, his lips are softly on yours, only to move away as soon as he places them on you.
The vendor owner mischievously grins when he comes back, looking back and forth between his expression and yours.
“Ah, young love.”
At least he gives each of you a discount, though Vinny does die on the inside as the old man wouldn’t stop talking about his “good ol` days” when he and other older folks would date.
Guys please send me some EMH x reader scenarios/headcannons through my inbox. This heatwave is KILLING me. Idc if it’s angst,fluff hell even SMUT just ANYTHING to distract myself from this dreadful heatwave I’m going through. Send as many as you’d like the more the merrier!!
Also please feel free to ask questions about my upcoming series Bunny 66!! I’m always willing to answer questions!
I think this guy is really really bad at relationships. I don't have a scientific basis for this, but you know what? I think he's going to screw up when he's courting
yes, he can come at you right away with a bulldozer: overwhelm you with expensive gifts, not see your boundaries and not understand your time. You study, you work, but it's like that's not such a good reason for him why you don't go on a first date with him.
So when will you agree to go on a date with him for the first time? It will be an attack on his brains. Taking you to a club with a bunch of drunk people, where the music drowns out everything you say to each other, doesn't seem like such a good idea anymore. And going to a cafe sounds a little boring to him.
he could bombard you with questions and find out where you want to go, and he would actually go, but if you don't tell him, then most likely he will choose to ride in his car.
Wait, wait, really. It's quite romantic. the two of you, share playlists, argue about which music to put on the background. He could also listen to you complain about your job and the idiots who surround you, order food in the car, and just show you all the beautiful areas of Seoul.
And of course to scare you
"Hey, Wooin, slow down!—", "hold on tight, princess, if you don't want to fly out of your seat"
he would maneuver between cars, add speed, seeing how you squeeze your seat belt and look with big eyes at the road. Damn it, he's an asshole, and he's taking advantage of it.
if you felt sick during the trip, he would have noticed it before you. He would find a place where you can stop and get some fresh air. Because I think he'd be watching your every reaction, checking you out more than he should, because he's been waiting for this for so long and because he doesn't really want to ruin the date.
he would drive you home and stand under your windows for a few more minutes, listening to the sound of silence. It would be quiet without you. and that would be a little unsettling for him. Because suddenly you won't go on a second date with him or ignore his calls if you don't want to put up with his shit.
but should you text him that you will choose the next place for a date or that he can pick you up after your business on another day? He's going to continue being an asshole.
because who, if not you, is the person who made him think so much that "Maybe I was too bad with her?" will still tolerate him?
He'll get better if you teach him, just give him time.
You'd probably ask him out on a first date. Because let's be honest, he doesn't have time for a personal life at all. Racing, training, worrying about his mother, and solving financial problems take up too much of his energy.
but what if he suddenly has a few extra hours? He could spend them with you.
but the only problem with money. I think he'd definitely want to take you somewhere decent, but don't get him wrong, he's really in trouble and he's eating damn instant ramen to save on himself.
So it could be a home date.
watch a movie together and cook ramen for you (I think he would ask you which one you like more, cheesy, spicy or maybe with bean paste). He would really try to do that for you.
choosing a movie would be more difficult. I think he would have rejected horror movies right away. action movies or romantic movies don't seem to be for him. But after a few minutes of arguing, you would have settled on something yourself.
romance? Okay, but he'll be so exhausted that he'll probably fall asleep before the characters even kiss on the screen.
An action movie? You'll be lucky if you like something like that. Otherwise, he doesn't seem so interested, and if he doesn't fall asleep at least until the middle of the movie, he'll grumble.
"it's against logic," "don't you think it's so stupid?", "damn, they're really idiots"
So you know what? To hell with it. Choose a horror movie and make him sweat and shudder every time after any creepy moment in the movie. And then take his hand so that he dies of embarrassment.
he will definitely take you home, or invite you to stay with him. you will sleep on different futons, but don't be surprised if you find him too close to you in the morning (he is clingy, he hugs blanket in his sleep, and I know that he is a man who is hungry for human warmth and touch)
and on other days, when he's busy with his own business, the thought that he's not worthy of you, that he can't even give you a normal date, will really be in his head. Besides the fact that he doesn't respond well to your messages because of his busy schedule, he may actually start avoiding writing to you because he feels a pang of shame.
but what if you invite him to watch a movie at your house and cook something different this time?
He's coming. Maybe another day, maybe it will be late and he will wake you up? He will come with a plastic bag of ramen passing into your apartment taking off his shoes on the way so that you don't see his red cheeks
He could also drag Jack to you because he noticed that last time this bastard rubbed so much against your touch and you let him
(By the way, tell him that you don't have a second futon to make him even more embarrassed, from the thought that you two will have to sleep next to each other)
fem bodied reader | smut | action | pwp | jayjo/fml | vinny/fml | wooin/fml | joker/fml | hyuk/fml | owen/fml | enemies to lovers | angsty | the other woman (?) | reverse harem | fluff | SLOW BURN! | all characters featured are 18+
author's note: hi everyone! i'm sorry for ghosting you for months. school has been so stressful that i didn't even get a chance to read updates from wind breaker. BUT I'm back! thank you all for reading my story!
✧˖° — windbreaker men
✧˖° — mdni, smut, description of not safe for work content.
✧˖° — this is a story not one shot.
I slowly opened my eyes, feeling a strange tightness in my stomach. It was like I was about to throw up. I glanced around, trying to figure out where I was, and then looked down at where I was lying. I was on a soft mattress on the floor, my black shirt lifted slightly, exposing my stomach. My joggers were barely hanging on, the drawstring untied. I held my head and turned to the side.
My eyes widened. "What the—" I quickly covered my mouth, afraid of waking the person next to me. He was lying on his stomach, facing my direction, deep in sleep. His arms were wrapped around a pillow.
Why am I alone with Jay?! Panic surged through me. Even though I was dizzy, I managed to sit up. I frowned when my foot hit something—like a body. I felt a wave of relief when I looked down and saw June sleeping at our feet. Shaking my head, I fixed my hair. My gaze fell on Jay again. He looked so peaceful, fast asleep. Unlike when he’s awake—he’s intimidating, unapproachable.
My heart raced again, and I quickly averted my eyes, rubbing my temples. Did I do something terrible last night while I was drunk? I bit my lower lip, struggling to remember what had happened.
We already know.
I know something they don't.
Can you stay away from me from now on? Please?
"Holy shit. Oh, please don’t tell me—" My eyes went wide, and I scrambled off the mattress, trying to be careful not to wake the two of them. Once I was out of the room, I saw Dom sleeping on the floor, clutching Yuna in his arms. Aria was also fast asleep, mouth open. I scanned the room for Minu and Mia, but when I spotted them, I was surprised to see they were already awake.
Mia was making coffee for herself and Minu. They hadn’t noticed me yet, too busy chatting and smiling. What a lovely couple. When will I ever experience something like that? I sighed and immediately looked for my stuff.
"Demitra, you're awake!" Mia’s sudden voice startled me. I forced a smile and nodded, still searching for my bag, which Dom had apparently slept on. "Come join us. What do you want? Milk? Coffee? Or milked coffee?" she asked cheerfully.
"Water is fine," I said, giving her a small smile.
"Water in the morning? Are you an alien?" Minu joked. I chuckled and shook my head, pointing at my stomach.
"If I drink any of what Mia mentioned, I'll end up in the bathroom," I said, making them both laugh.
When Mia handed me the glass of water, I caught the two of them exchanging glances. It was as if they were communicating silently. These friends really had a habit of doing that, even when it was so obvious. After taking a sip, I set the glass down on the counter and crossed my arms, leaning against the sink.
"I know you two know something. You’re way too obvious," I joked, raising an eyebrow at them.
Mia looked flustered, her eyes darting to her boyfriend, as if silently begging him to speak for her. "W-Well, yesterday, Principal Nick told us something about you. About you being a professional rider—"
I burst out laughing. "Professional? Please, did Nick really say that?" I asked in disbelief. "I’m not. Let’s just say I’m an expert."
"But it's the same thing!" Mia jumped in. I just shrugged.
"It’s not," I said, still chuckling.
Minu suddenly grew serious, putting his glass down. "Why didn’t you tell us you're famous in England? As the underground princess? And that you’re friends with Owen from High Calvary!" he said, catching me off guard. Did Gramps really tell them everything? At this rate, I wouldn’t be surprised if he also mentioned my favorite food.
"Ew, don’t ever call me that again," I cringed. "And I’m not friends with him. I just know him." I avoided their gazes, just as I noticed Yuna stirring awake, probably overhearing our conversation.
"That’s the biggest lie I’ve ever heard in my life."
"Minu!"
I laughed as Mia scolded him. She gave me an apologetic look, clearly embarrassed by what her boyfriend had said. "You can ask him if you want." Please don’t.
"You beat him once," Yuna chimed in, despite just waking up.
"I don’t remember that," I replied, playing dumb. She just scoffed at me. "And, going back to what you said earlier, I’m not famous. I was just known in the underground. And that was years ago, so yeah, I’m not relevant there anymore," I said with a laugh, brushing it off.
"Stop being humble, Demitra," Minu said, and I just shot him a glare. "But the main point is, you're stronger than everyone else. I don't even understand how you lost to Jay. No offense to my best friend." He added, but my eyes widened when I saw Jay standing by the now-open sliding door.
"You're overthinking it," I replied, picking up my bag. "Even if you say I’m strong, biking isn’t my thing anymore. I’ve already told you that. I only got back into it to help you guys out." Everyone went silent at my words. "I did have fun helping you, though. Just make sure you explain things to your friend Shelly when she finds out about that video circulating. She's going to freak out seeing her 'clone' on the screen." I glanced over at Jay, who was standing with his arms crossed, leaning against the wall, watching me closely.
"Why do you sound like you’re leaving us after this?" We all turned in surprise to see Dom awake, scratching his head and clearly just having woken up.
"We still want you to be our friend, Demitra," June said softly, his eyes gentle, making my heart ache a little. I laughed to mask the emotions stirring inside me.
I knew they wouldn’t understand, but I needed to keep my distance. Nick already knew I was in Korea, and it wouldn’t be long before he told Shelly. The last thing I wanted was to run into her at school. Call me bitter, but I was only trying to protect myself. I couldn’t afford to get hurt again, especially not after being betrayed by my old friends.
"I appreciate it. We’re still friends, you know. And I’m not leaving." At least, not yet.
They made sure I had breakfast before I could even mention going home. As expected, Dom wouldn’t stop pestering me about how it felt to be famous in England, even asking for tips on how to beat international competitors, knowing I had beaten plenty in races before. Mia and the others, on the other hand, kept trying to pry into how I knew Owen, but I kept dodging the topic. The whole time, I could feel Jay’s eyes on me, and it was driving me crazy. Our conversation from last night kept replaying in my mind, making me avoid him even more.
"Last question, how did you learn to ride a bike?" Aria asked, stopping me in my tracks. The face of a man who had been absent from my life for so long immediately flashed in my mind. His earrings were the one thing I always remembered whenever he crossed my thoughts.
"From my dad," I said, half-truth, half-lie.
"Damn, I wish your dad could teach me!" June exclaimed.
"Never again. I’ll never take lessons from dads again. The last time I did, I nearly died from how hard Shelly’s dad pushed me," Dom said, practically on the verge of tears. I feigned surprise, though I knew all too well how strict Mark could be.
"Oh, Jay, where are you going?" Aria asked when she saw him stand up.
"Home," he replied shortly, not even glancing in my direction.
"Why don't you and Demitra leave together? So she has someone to walk with," Yuna suggested, and I nearly choked. Out of all the people who could’ve said that, it had to be her. I quickly shook my head.
"Then let’s go," Jay said coldly, addressing me directly. My mouth fell open in shock before I glared at him.
After saying my goodbyes to everyone, I hopped on my bike. I saw Jay already outside, waiting for me. I sighed before riding over to him. He was adjusting his helmet when he spoke.
"You should have told them you're leaving," he said, catching me off guard.
"What?"
His tired eyes looked straight at me. "You lied to them. Don’t just disappear without saying goodbye," he said before pedaling away.
My jaw dropped as I quickly followed him.
"What makes you think I’m leaving?"
"You literally said it last night."
I clenched my jaw, trying to think of an excuse. Hurry up, Demitra! Think of something. "I have no reason to leave, Jay," I lied, but he didn’t seem to care. His indifference made me even more annoyed. "Maybe you didn’t understand what I said last night. Why would I leave? I don’t have any enemies at Sunny High."
"Do you really want to talk about this?" he asked, his eyes locking onto mine. A chill ran down my spine.
"Yes! Tell me, Jay. Why would I leave?" I fired back. If you really don’t know anything, prove it. You’re hiding something. I could tell last night when you tried to act like you didn’t know. I’m not stupid.
He shook his head and sighed. "Stop asking me questions only you can answer," he said coldly. "If anything, I should be asking you that. Why are you leaving? Is there someone you’re scared to run into?"
His words struck a nerve.
"What the hell is your problem?" I snapped, making him stop. "I’ve had enough of your riddles, Jay. Just tell me what your issue is with me. You keep dropping hints about things you think you know, and it’s driving me insane. You keep looking at me like you’re waiting for something, and now this? Agreeing to walk me home after I literally told you to stay away from me?"
His expression shifted into something unreadable. "I don’t have a problem with you—"
"Then stop messing with me. If you know something, just say it. Tell me, what exactly did you hear from Nick?" I demanded, stopping my bike and glaring at him. His jaw tightened as he took a deep breath.
"I only told you what I heard last night, nothing more." He was lying again. What the hell? I nodded slowly, scoffing in disbelief. Ignoring him, I pedaled faster, trying to get away. Why does he keep messing with my head? What does he really know? From the way he talks, it's as if he knows everything about my secret.
I veered off the main route, taking a different path to put more distance between us. Thankfully, he didn’t try to follow. I wasn’t in the mood for another race with him. It took me 30 minutes to reach the park. I parked my bike and dropped myself onto the grass, frustrated. I held my head in my hands, trying to shake off the haunting memories.
"Is it true, Nick? Shelly’s engaged to Owen?"
"Yes, Demitra. Why? Didn’t Owen tell you? Aren’t you two close?" Nick had approached me, but I stepped back, covering my mouth. My body trembled at his words. After all this time, Owen is engaged to my friend? And Shelly knew? They both kept this from me?
Tears, which I had been trying to hold back, finally spilled over. "Demitra, why are you—" Nick began, but I cut him off.
I gripped my hair tightly, burying my face in my knees as the tears streamed down. I couldn’t understand why I still felt so much pain after all these years. I should’ve moved on by now. I should’ve forgotten them, but why was this happening to me? Why do the people I’ve been trying to forget keep coming back? My heart tightened painfully in my chest.
"I didn’t let you go just to see you cry."
I froze at the voice. Lifting my head, I saw Vinny leaning against his motorcycle, hands in the pockets of his leather jacket. I quickly looked away, wiping my tears.
"What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be at the race?" I changed the subject.
"It seems you really don’t care about the Sabbath, huh? The race ended a while ago," he said, lighting a cigarette. He even offered me one, but I shook my head. He raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised I wasn’t smoking.
"Did they find out?" I asked quietly.
"See this?" He pointed to a bruise on his cheek. "That's your boyfriend’s doing," he said before tossing the cigarette, even though he hadn’t taken a puff.
"I don’t have a boyfriend," I shot back, giving him a glare.
"Wooin is a smart guy. No one can fool him," he muttered, staring straight ahead at the road. "They’re pissed. Not just at me, though."
I sighed. "I’m sorry. You fought because of me," I apologized, feeling guilty.
"We were already fighting long before this, even without you," he said casually, lying down on the grass. "So tell me, why are you here? Did Hummingbird finally kick you out after using you?" He looked at me sharply.
"You know your friends aren’t like that," I said, meeting his gaze with equal intensity.
