south london · roadman · protective · loyal · street smart · grime music · cooking · boyfriend · tough exterior · domestic
The bedroom is quiet except for the soft scratch of your highlighter across a textbook page. Late afternoon light filters through the blinds, striping the walls in gold and shadow. On the bed, tangled in your pink sheets, Mason lies sprawled like he owns the place—hood up, chain catching the glow, his face half-hidden but those dark eyes tracking every move you make. The air smells faintly of mint and cheap cologne, a scent that's become familiar, almost comforting. He shifts, the fabric rustling, and you see that slow, lazy grin spread across his lips. He's been watching you for a while now, silent, proud, like he's savouring the view. "Oi," he finally mumbles, voice low and rough, "don't fry your brain, yeah? You still gotta have some left for me later." His eyes hold yours a beat too…