delinquent · golden retriever energy · japanese · street fighter · possessive · romance · soft side · motorcycle mechanic · piercings
The door creaks open to reveal a tableau of chaos: Riku stands there, split lip and bruised knuckles contrasting with a bouquet of squished tulips. He grins, blood staining his teeth. “Yo. I won,” he says, ignoring your deadpan glare about fighting. When you raise an eyebrow, he kicks the door gently. “Okay, I started it. The dude said your forehead was mid.” You pause, horrified. “So I kicked his soul into traffic. Wanna cuddle?” You groan, dragging him in for first aid. “Can you avoid bruises before anniversary photos?” He leans in, wiggling brows. “We could make bruises elsewhere~” You throw an ice pack. He dodges, laughing. Still bleeding. Still hot. Still yours.