You and Iwaizumi are on your way back from a meal out with friends, cruising through the quiet streets as he drives you home. It’s that in between hour where it’s not quite day, not quite night, where the sky is the colour of cotton candy and the sun is barely peeking out between the clouds.
You’re halfway into a rant about one of your friend’s questionable love life when something—or someone, rather—stops you dead in your tracks.
Literally, because Iwa brakes at the red light.
“So then I told her, why don’t you just dump his ass if he’s so—holy crap he’s cool.”
You barely register Iwa’s inquisitive hum when the low growl of a motorbike creeps up beside the car.
Damn. That’s hot.
He’s like the personification of an eclipse.
Black helmet. Black jacket. Black jeans. Slick black bike. You can’t even see this man’s face, but his demeanour alone is enough to do something to your pulse.
You bite your lip to contain the cheesy grin that’s about to break out onto your face and turn to Iwa. “He is so fine."
Iwa gives the stranger a quick side glance and huffs something close to a laugh. “You into bikers now?”
“Didn’t used to be. I’ve been getting a bunch of videos on my Instagram, though, and I’ve kinda been converted.”
Iwa shakes his head in either amusement, or bemusement—hard to tell. What’s clear is that he’s not fully grasping the appeal of this majestic individual, so you smack his arm like it might knock some sense into him.
“No, Haji, look. I’m serious.” You ball your hand into a fist and gnaw on your knuckles to contain a squeal. Your brain replays the time Maki and Mattsun called you a crazed lunatic and said Hajime was your carer—only to stomp the thought back down.
“What do I do?” you breathe.
“You can’t even see his face."
“Doesn’t matter,” you chide, ignoring Iwa's painfully typical male response. “It’s all about the body language. The aura, you know?"
"Can't say I do."
"Never mind."
You’re leaning forward now, peeking through the side mirror, heart kicking up as you admire the handsome stranger. Iwa’s right—you can hardly see the guy’s face through the helmet visor, but your imagination does all the work for you. Sharp jaw. High cheekbones. He’s got a lazy slouch that fits the brooding image you’ve painted of him perfectly. One hand rests on the throttle, the other tapping a rhythm on his thigh like he’s got nowhere better to be.
“Should I say something?” you whisper, rocking in your seat like a kid who just spotted a celebrity and is building up the courage to ask for an autograph.
“Want me to open the window?”
“No—“
Whirrrr.
You stare frantically at Iwa as the window slides down with a mechanical whir, and the purr of the biker's engine fills the silence.
"How could you do this to me—"
Iwa just clears his throat, gaze fixed on the road ahead as if to say, from now on, I am no longer present. Good luck.
Your stomach flips.
It's fine. You're overthinking. Maybe he didn't even hear. Maybe you can play this off. For all he knows, you just rolled down the window for some fresh air.
The biker turns his head.
Annnd you just made eye contact.
Well, you think you did. It's impossible to tell with his visor tinted so dark, but it definitely felt like eye contact. You realise you're still staring when the biker subtly jerks his chin at you in silent question.
Something wrong?
You’ve barely got time to think. The light will turn green any minute and it dawns on you that you might miss your chance.
And so—because you’re well-versed in the art of biker Instagram reels and see these kinds of interactions all the time—you lean out the window just a little and put on your best smile.
“I like your bike,” you call, only to immediately regret it because surely you could’ve said something better than that.
The man tilts his helmet slightly, like he wasn’t expecting the compliment. His voice is muffled, low, and amused when he replies:
“Thanks. You drive?”
Oh. Does he think you’re a fellow biker?
You snort at the thought. “God, no. I don't think that'd be safe for anyone." You wave a dismissive hand before adding, "I'm just the co-pilot."
He rolls his shoulder back, spine straightening just enough to give you a better look.
Hm. He’s broader than you imagined. Taller, too.
Guess being hunched over was hiding all that potential.
“Mm. The hard job,” he says—and if your ears aren't deceiving you, you'd say he was teasing.
Perfect. You can't help but grin. Now's your chance.
"The hard job," you echo. "Are you hiring?"
Iwa lets out a sound caught between a laugh and a groan.
The guy laughs—just a little. Deep and dry and unfairly attractive. Success, you think. At least you made him laugh.
Then, without looking away, he flips his visor up.
You try not to stare.
Dark, tired eyes. Green like freshly picked apples. Strands of messy brown hair falling over his forehead. It feels like a tease—one that has you impatiently wondering what the rest of him looks like under all that gear.
“What’s your name, passenger princess?”
You can hardly believe your ears. As if he's actually going along with this.
“(Y/n).”
“Suna,” he says. “You free Friday?”
Ohmygod. Ohmygod.
“You don’t even know what I like,” you goad, emboldened now that you've confirmed his interest.
He revs the engine once in response—slow and suggestive. “I know one thing.”
Your face warms.
Then he shifts forward slightly, one hand reaching into his jacket pocket. When it re-emerges, he’s holding a phone—already unlocked, already open on the “new contact” screen.
He doesn’t say anything, just gives a little tilt of his head as he extends it toward you through the window.
You take it and blink down at the screen.
Suddenly, you no longer remember your own name.
Your mind scrambles, fingers hovering uselessly over the keyboard as your brain reboots. When it finally does, your thumbs fly across the keyboard. You add your name, number, and a cute little emoji for good measure (a bike and princess emoji), then you hand it back, biting back a grin like a kid in a candy store.
He glances at the screen. His shoulders bounce, just once, like he laughed under his breath. Then he slides the phone back into his jacket.
The light turns green just in time.
“See you Friday, (y/n),” he says. And somehow, you have a feeling he’s smirking.
He lifts two fingers off the handle in a lazy little salute, then peels off into the night.
You spin in your seat so fast the seatbelt locks in place. “Haji, did you see that?! I got a date in like under two minutes!”
He’s already turning the corner, half smiling at your success. “Sure did. Guess that means I’m dropping you off on Friday?”
You giggle into your palms.
Best. Red light interaction Ever.
thank you to everyone who likes, comments &/or reblogs! ☺️
in a world where horsepower meets heartstrings, and bookstore meet-cutes lead to motorcycle mishaps, you soon realize that opposites do attract in ways that blur the line between fiction and reality.
▞▞ PAIRINGS. ryōmen sukuna, fem!reader
▞▞ GENRE. fluff, smut, established relationship, biker boy x book girl au, 18+
▞▞ TAGS. biker!kuna, backpack!reader, profanity, reckless driving, mentions of violence (not to reader), bruises, police, fellatio, cunnilingus, protected, explicit smut, sukuna being a cute bf
▞▞ NOTES. 8.3k word count. my biker!kuna fics are unstoppable atp 😮💨 and as an irl writer gf to a biker bf, this is a very self-indulgent fic. got lazy with the smut so i copied bits from my other gojo oneshot. reblogs are highly appreciated <3
▞▞ INSPOS. my fav biker boys on biketok: that10r, dylan.r.one, raven.coop, onyx_r7, senor_torque, blacchornets, aushendrivessafe, tiiidddooo, bongo & takaro 🖤🏍️💨
After dating you for six months, Sukuna realized that nothing in the world could capture your attention like your cherished collection of fictional books—except, of course, him. But before he entered the picture, you were always immersed in solitary bliss at the cafe or library, lost in the intricate worlds of your latest literary fascination to the point where it was almost impossible to pull you out of it.
Yet, it became an unspoken understanding between you both; he respected your need for uninterrupted reading time, allowing you to lose yourself in stories populated by your favorite characters, while in return, you supported his desire for a thrilling experience of riding his bike despite the inherent risks that came with it.
He vividly remembered the first time he saw you while riding his bike through the city. You were crossing the street then, carrying a bag of books you had just bought from Barnes & Noble, and the sight of you in a cute sundress had him completely distracted from the road. So in an attempt to catch your attention, he revved his bike to ‘flex’. But in his effort to impress, he missed the red light and had to brake abruptly, causing him to lose control and drop his bike to the ground.
That was the very first time he had ever dropped his precious R1 after a year of riding it. If it had been his old R7, he wouldn’t have cared as much, but his R1—his expensive, still-on-the-loan, matte black, fully customized R1—hit the pavement along with him. For bikers, these kinds of things hurt.
Now, talk about embarrassing. You even stopped to look at him in concern that day and if only you could see his blushing face behind his helmet. But at least, looking back at your meet-cute, he could tell you that he did, in fact, fall for you. Literally.
And there can’t be anything truer than that.
“Aww, she’s cute,” Choso remarked, gesturing his chin towards you with a teasing grin as they dismounted their bikes at the parking lot. You were there sitting in a cafe with a book on your lap, unaware that you were being conversed about by these two men right outside.
Sukuna jabbed him on the side and motioned for him to stop staring. “Fuck off. She’s mine.”
As Choso lifted his helmet, a group of girls outside the cafe couldn’t help but swoon over the two bikers, whispering and commenting on how hot and attractive they looked. And being the fucker that he was, completely absorbed in the attention from the girls, Choso had momentarily forgotten about Sukuna as he swaggered towards them with a confident smirk, glancing back at his friend and playfully raising his eyebrows.
“You go ahead. I’ll go check out the scenery,” Choso said in his usual mischief, “Unless you want to join me?”
Sukuna, still sporting his helmet, smugly showed him a picture of you as his phone’s home screen. “Sorry, already got my hands full with my princess.”
“Whatever. Tell Y/N I said hi,” Choso replied with a chuckle, before turning his attention back to the admiring group of girls.
You sat in your customary corner of the cafe, near the window, with a barely touched cup of coffee before you. Your attention was still and all riveted to the pages of your current book, remaining oblivious to the world around you as it looked like you were just getting to the good part of the storyline. Sukuna decided it would be a charming surprise to approach you as he entered the cafe, his arrival catching the eye of another group of girls who noticed him immediately, but he ignored their glances when he made his way towards your small area.
In his usual black leather jacket, Sukuna pulled a chair backward and straddled it, casually resting his arms on the backrest. With both legs on either side, he settled in, observing you intently behind his black helmet. A faint smirk played on his lips as he quietly watched you absorbed in your reading, and for now, he said nothing and enjoyed the moment silently.
He gave it a minute or so for you to realize.
5… 4… 3… 2… “L-Lovey?” By the time you finally noticed his presence, you saw your widened eyes at his reflective visor when you looked up at him.
“Hey, baby girl.” Sukuna pushed the button to lift his visor, revealing his narrow eyes that were locked onto yours. He had that boyish grin sitting handsomely on his lips.
As for you, you looked like you were blushing. That, or perhaps there was some sort of fluttering happening inside your heart at the unexpected sight of him. It was probably taking you a moment to separate fiction from reality, because not long ago, you were too fixated on the fictional boy written on the pages of your book. Now, your very real and actual boyfriend was here. For you. “Um… How long have you been there?”
“Not that long,” he assured in his usual low, velvet voice. “I just arrived, actually. Didn’t wanna disturb my baby.”
Your curious eyes fell on the red tribal decals on his black Nexx SX100r helmet, reminding you of the same face tattoo designs he had mentioned wanting to get, but you were refusing to let him have. “New helmet?”
Sukuna nodded, smirking as he tapped the headgear with his gloved hand. “Yeah, you like it?”
“I do,” you replied, smiling. “It’s very you.”
“Thanks, baby.”
You glanced at his sleek black Yamaha R1 outside the window and immediately closed your chosen book for the day. “Okay, well…” You met his gaze again. “I have backpack duties today, don’t I?”
He was quick to dismiss it. “No, no. You can finish reading. I don’t mind just sittin’ here and watching you for a while.”
But, being the stubborn girl you were, you were already packing your book into your bag. You didn’t even listen to a word he said. “Did you bring my helmet?”
“‘Course, princess. Your helmet’s right there strapped onto the backseat.” Your boyfriend leaned in closer and pointed to his sportbike. Just as he took your bag from you, his eyes lingered on your lips for a moment. “So, you’re gonna be my pretty little backpack today?”
You mustn’t have realized it, but the two of you had become the subject of envious stares in the cafe. Most of the girls who looked your way were clearly jealous. Yet your cute, clueless self didn’t even seem to notice as you clung to his arm. “Yes, lovey. I miss being your backpack.”
Did you know? Sukuna always melted from your enthusiasm. And he couldn’t even resist pinching your cheeks. “Alright, then.” His hand moved to squeeze your nose. “I'll be your personal chauffeur, and you’ll be my cute little backpack who’s clinging tightly to me the whole time. Sounds good?”
“Yessir,” you answered with a playful salute.
“Good girl.” He then took your hand in his, leading you out of the cafe and onto the parking lot when he all of a sudden felt a tug on his arm.
You had a visible pout displayed. “Lovey, wait!”
“What is it, baby?” The question came out of him softly, tilting his head when he looked at you.
“My kiss,” you said sweetly, making Sukuna feel like Cupid shot an arrow to his heart. “You forgot.”
How can one person be so unbelievably adorable? Just how? How on Earth did he land the cutest girl on the planet? The cuteness aggression was certainly urging him to fall on his knees right now. With the weakness he tried to restrain inside, he was trying his hardest to laugh it off on the outside. “Oh damn, you’re right.” He pulled his helmet up, leaning in forward to place a warm, tender kiss on your soft lips. He could hear the hearts of the surrounding girls breaking at the sight. “Can’t believe I forgot to give my baby the most important item of the day.”
Satisfied with the kiss, you followed your tattooed boyfriend like a shadow to meet his bike, ‘Fury’, as he affectionately named it. The sportbike rocked a midnight black wrap and the cool customizations he added made it a standout even more. Of course, what kind of person would think Sukuna would stick with a boring base design? One of the best things about his R1 was its front light, infamous in the bike community, as it resembled a menacing face that added to its aggressive allure. It was also equipped with a powerful 998cc inline-four engine, leaving no questions why ‘Fury’ roared with a throaty exhaust note that echoed through the streets. Sukuna chuckled inwardly at the thought. He hoped you wouldn’t mind, but this big bad boy would have been the love of his life if you hadn’t come along.
“Love, I was thinking,” you interrupted his trance as he slipped the smaller helmet over your head, deftly securing the straps under your chin, “Do you think we can swing by the bookstore on the way?”
His lips curved into a smile. “Sure, we can. You wanna pick up more books to read?”
“I do,” you confirmed, yet hesitated at the end of your tone. “Well, there’s this book I wanna read, but… it has eighteen plus stuff.”
Sukuna raised an eyebrow in intrigue, his visor still up as he effortlessly lifted you onto the back of his bike with one arm. “Oh, so it’s a spicy book, huh?” he teased, recalling the discussions he had seen on ‘biketok’ where he went by the username r1.skn. His TikTok account was an unexpected blend of motorcycle enthusiasts and book lovers, and that unique intersection of interests amused him endlessly. “Think my followers would love to know what my backpack’s gonna read next.”
Even with your helmet on, he could sense the shy smile behind it. “No, please don’t film our ride today!”
“Hmm… What kind of spicy book are we talking about, baby?” he asked, settling onto his bike and revving the engine. When your arms were securely wrapped around his torso, he took that as a go signal to hold the throttle and smoothly shift from first to second gear. “Is it very naughty?”
You hugged him tightly from behind. “Um, it’s about this biker guy and a bookish girl,” you introduced the plot coyly, “And yes, it has some steamy scenes.”
He glanced at you through the bike’s mirror, ensuring that you were safe and secured behind him. Sukuna then shifted into third gear as you entered an empty road, gradually picking up speed. The roar of his bike was louder than his voice. “Really? I bet the biker guy is a dominant one.”
“Yeah.” Your grip tightened on his compression shirt, almost as if you were trying to feel his abs through the fabric. “He’s got tattoos, too.”
What a tease. “You better picture me as that biker guy when you read that book, princess,” he playfully warned, “You’re mine, both in real life and in your fantasies.”
“Yes, but my lovey is hotter.”
“Good response, baby. You have taste.”
As you reached the stoplight in the city intersection, Sukuna slowed down and adjusted the small camera mounted on his bike to make sure it still had the perfect angle of you two. He couldn’t help but chuckle as he now had evidence of how touchy his cute, little backpack could get. You sensed him filming your interaction, but instead of pulling your hand away, you leaned further against his back and playfully touched his toned chest. He was surprised and amused at the action, gently pulling your hand down when your silly hands squeezed his chest, but you remained undeterred by placing them near his crotch the next. Your boyfriend hoped to God that none of the surrounding cars were recording you two for your affectionate display in the middle of the traffic.
“Brat,” he teased back with a shake of his head. “A brat who always gets what she wants, especially in bed.”
Your whine followed, along with a light slap on his arm. “Hey!”
Why was this red light taking too long? He was getting all bricked up the more he could feel your tits pressing against his back. Although, he considered it a blessing and curse, because the only distraction that was served to you two was when another bike pulled up ahead of cars lined up behind you. It was a white Kawasaki ZX-10R. And its owner? A jerk who had a clear death wish.
“Hey there, sexy,” catcalled the rider of the 10R, stopping exactly where he could see your rear. “Cute helmet.”
Sukuna knew you well enough to know that you were offering an uncomfortable, yet polite smile underneath the helmet. But it was the tug at your boyfriend’s shirt that made him glance over the biker with a hint of warning in his eyes. “What’d you say?” His voice carried a menacing edge. While he hadn’t been in a brawl in a while, he definitely didn’t mind the idea of one now. “Back off my girl or I’ll smash your head on the ground.”
The ZX-10R rider chuckled, hands in the air like an idiot. “Alright, man. No harm meant.”
“Shut it.”
“Okay, jeez! How about a little race to settle things? See who’s got the faster ride?”
Sukuna scoffed, finding it hard to believe that a random guy, especially an obvious amateur, had the audacity to challenge him to a race. Didn’t he know? Ryomen Sukuna wasn’t nicknamed the King of the Streets for nothing. He had been riding motorcycles for twelve years now, starting with a modest 300cc and graduating to his current 1000cc superbike. His riding experience was unmatched. He also knew every biker in the area as it was his turf. Yet this ZX-10R rider had appeared out of nowhere with such laughable confidence.
Thanks to him, your boyfriend’s competitive spirit was ignited. “You’re on.”
“Cool,” the other biker replied.
Meanwhile, you tensed behind Sukuna and gripped his shirt tighter than before. “Love, I don’t think this is a good idea.”
He turned his head, gently held the top of your head, and gave you a sweet ‘helmet kiss’. “I’ll keep you safe,” he reassured, “Just hold on tight for me, okay?”
As soon as the light turned green, best believe the street became a racetrack. All the cars were left behind to dust with the roar of motorcycles as both bikers increased their speed, side by side, in a fierce race. Sukuna shifted into third gear as he passed the next intersection, then into fourth gear when the ZX-10R caught up to him. He could feel your hold around him tightening more than ever as the rush of the wind blew through your helmet’s visor.
He thought you might hate it, but you were surprisingly loving the thrill of the scene.
“Go, baby!” you cheered, holding onto him for dear life. Cute.
“Not bad, man!” the other biker shouted over the wind, pulling ahead slightly at Sukuna’s moment of distraction. “But try harder!”
Tch. Sukuna gritted his teeth and focused all his senses on the road ahead. He weaved through traffic, maneuvering his bike skillfully and taking advantage of every opportunity to gain ground. In no time, he caught up with the ZX-10R rider, and they soon raced neck and neck. They exchanged glances as they sped between cars, with the other vehicles blurring around them in motion. The thrill of the competition fueled their adrenaline, while you, as the passenger, felt your heart pounding with excitement.
Both bikes continued to zoom down the road. And it was also during that time when Sukuna locked his mind and body into analyzing the situation. Let’s see, he thought, should I push Fury to its limits?
He calculated his next move, feeling the strong breeze on his face and the vibrations of the powerful engine beneath him. The ZX-10R rider was good, but Sukuna knew he had the skills and the bike to outpace him. He just needed to time it right. Between a ZX-10R and an R1, a quick Google search would tell you that the 10R pulls faster than an R1 engine wise. While both bikes were top-tier, high performance vehicles with a 200 horsepower and a top speed exceeding 180mph, the 10R’s disadvantage is being 7 kg heavier, which instantly gave Sukuna an edge in this situation. Being the lighter bike between the two would certainly make him marginally better at handling and acceleration.
With that, your boyfriend capitalized on his bike’s strengths and shifted into sixth gear at the next intersection, surging ahead and crossing the finish line just as the ZX-10R was left stuck at the last stoplight.
Sweet, sweet victory. Sukuna sped onto the freeway, shouting triumphantly into the air. “Woohoo!” He could feel the jolt of adrenaline satiating his need for a thrilling ride.
“B-Babe.” You, on the other hand, tugged at his shirt in worry. “Babe, we’re going too fast. The cops—!”
The sound of the siren snapped Sukuna back to reality in an instant. “Shit,” he muttered under his breath, frustrated by the abrupt interruption. “Can’t even have a minute to celebrate my win.”
While he could have engaged in a high-speed freeway chase if he wanted to, especially having already escaped the police once, having you with him now made him opt for better judgment. His promise to keep you safe was his foremost priority here. So, swallowing his pride with a tightened jaw, he slowed down and pulled over to the side of the road as the police car trailed behind.
The officer swiftly exited his vehicle and approached you two. “Evening, folks,” the stern voice of the elderly officer broke the tension. “License and registration, please.”
Sukuna retrieved his wallet and handed over his license and registration, then turned to you, placing a protective hand on your thigh. He could tell his poor little backpack was feeling anxious.
The cop then glanced between you and Sukuna, his gaze lingering on you with concern. “Ma’am, are you alright?” he asked, his focus more on your well-being than on the biker himself.
You nodded, trying to appear composed despite the adrenaline still coursing through you. “Yes, officer. I’m fine.”
The officer soon directed his attention to the R1. “What’s the fastest you’ve been on this thing?”
Sukuna couldn’t resist a cheeky reply. “Speed limit.”
“Very funny,” said the unamused officer, who retreated to his vehicle to run Sukuna’s information while leaving you and your boyfriend to exchange glances once more.
His expression softened. “Sorry about this, babe. I didn’t mean to get us in trouble.”
“It’s okay.” You reassured him with a squeeze around his waist. “I trust you.”
Interrupting the tender moment, the officer returned and handed back your boyfriend’s license. “Do you know why I pulled you over?” he asked, receiving a shrug in response. A lecture that Sukuna heavily hated soon followed. “You were speeding back there. I clocked you going 20 miles over the limit. It’s always you fellas with the 1000cc bikes who think they’re invincible. Even 600cc guys are scared of the police. You need to slow down, especially with a passenger.”
With your insistent look, Sukuna nodded to the cop, apologetically. “Understood, sir.”
The officer studied Sukuna for a moment before releasing a sigh. “Look, I get it. It’s a nice night for a ride. Just remember, it’s not just your life on the line. You’ve got someone else to think about.” He pointed at you while handing your boyfriend a ticket. “You’ve gotta take good care of her.”
Only then did Sukuna’s cold mien soften up with the cop. “I’ll be careful next time, officer.”
“Right. I’m letting you off with a warning this time, but I’m writing you a ticket for speeding. Slow down, alright?”
“Yes, sir. Thank you.”
The officer returned to his car, and Sukuna pocketed the ticket with a mixture of relief and frustration etched on his face. “We didn’t get to pass by your bookstore,” he lamented, giving you an affectionate caress on the back. “I’m sorry, princess.”
You touched your headgear to his, sharing a helmet kiss. “There’s always next time,” you reassured him with a smile in your voice. “Besides, this is a real-life experience that no book can ever give me.”
~~
By the time you arrived at your apartment, darkness had already settled in, leaving a cozy glow from the distant cityscape as you switched on the lights and placed your helmet on the nearby console table. Immediately, your British shorthair cat dashed toward you with a loud meow, his pretty auburn eyes gleaming with excitement at seeing his mom.
“Hi, Casper,” you cooed at the feline, but his attention swiftly turned when Sukuna entered your apartment a few minutes later—someone he clearly wasn’t fond of.
Upon spotting Sukuna, your cat hissed, expressing his displeasure toward your boyfriend, who playfully stuck his tongue out in response. “I’m back, asshole.”
“Don’t call him that!” You chuckled, attending to Casper by mixing up his food in his bowl. “He’s probably never going to warm up to you at this rate.”
Sukuna smoothly removed his jacket and flopped down on the couch. “Boo! Casper sucks,” he hooted, cupping his hands around his mouth, “He’s just jealous because you love me more.”
It had been a while since Casper had seen Sukuna since you were the one coming over at his place more often. Still, the cat’s disdain for your boyfriend persisted, and you suspected it was because Casper could detect the scent of Sukuna’s dog, a large Doberman, whenever he was near. You can only imagine how crazy your household would be should you and your boyfriend move in together in the near future.
For now, his occasional visits sufficed. Although, there were days when his presence in your apartment stirred more thoughts in your mind than just simple cuddles and movie nights. How could you help it? He was oblivious to the thoughts running in your head as he sat lazily on your couch, his legs spread wide, lifting his compression shirt just above his sweaty chest. His toned abs were impossible to ignore, especially as he ran his fingers through his hair, breathing heavily.
“Babe, it’s so hot,” he said, fanning his face, completely unaware of the chaos inside your head. “Wanna shower before bed?”
His suggestion was innocent enough, but your immediate agreement was driven by a different kind of excitement. “Okay,” you replied with a sheepish grin, “I’ll see if you have any clothes left in the closet.”
You see, you and Sukuna had just started dating a few months ago—precisely 6 months and 3 weeks to be exact, so the relationship was definitely still fresh and vulnerable. But needless to say, while he was indeed a sweet and dreamy boyfriend that you could only ever read about in your stash of fictional books, there was also a side of him that awakened the more mature side of you.
If it wasn’t obvious enough, Sukuna was more experienced in the intimacy department than you. And him being your first did bring in thoughts of inadequacy in terms of your performance in bed. You haven’t done it enough to call yourself a pro, but you also did it enough to say that you already knew what, how, and where to please him the most. You owe that experience to the multitude of smut scenes you had read about on Tumblr and AO3, because those exact stories provided essential insights that guided your actions on your first time.
Now, whenever the sexy beast within you was unleashed, you didn’t even hold back anymore.
The shower was already running when you stepped inside the small space, your boyfriend letting the cold water fall on his naked tattooed body in rivulets. Each drop of water sounded like rainfall, and with him pulling you closer by the arm, he began kissing you with a passion that made it feel like you were caught in a rainstorm.
“Lovey!” You giggled, pushing your palms flat against his chest. “You said we’ll just shower.”
“You know what I meant by that, baby.”
The water continued to cascade down your skin, your hair now damp and your body now wet. Sukuna’s eyes darkened in lust as eyed you up and down, his hands tracing the curves of your body, before crashing his lips back onto yours once more. This time, his kisses were more aggressive as he bit your lower lip, and took the opportunity of shoving his tongue inside your mouth. He was devouring you with rough and wide movements, allowing your tongue to roll around his in a playful tangle. And with his fingers now grabbing a fistful of your hair, and his other hand sliding down your chest to squeeze your breast, you felt a stretch on your scalp when he pulled you by the hair to look up at him. “You think you’re so innocent, don’t you?” he teased, kneading your right breast before his hand moved south to palm your dripping cunt, “Deep down, you’re just as naughty and wicked as me.”
“N-No.” Your breath hitched when his lips traced light kisses around your neck. But it wasn’t just his kisses and touch that made your knees weak, it was the feeling of his hardened member pressed against your stomach, fully erect and ready to be inside you. “Mmh… You’re the naughty one.”
Sukuna went in for another open-mouthed kiss before he nibbled on your earlobe. “I don’t deny that, princess,” he pivoted your body around, and made you lean against the glass wall so he could get a better view of your buttocks. While you, you could see your tits pressed against the glass from your reflection in the mirror, a sight that your boyfriend went absolutely crazy for when he looked up. “Ah, fuck. That’s so hot.”
You could feel his fingers playing with your entrance from behind, and you watched him bite his lip through the mirror, his eyes dancing in lust as he wantonly stared at your body. “Ngh,” you bit back a moan, the feeling of his fingers teasing your entrance making you curl your toes, “I… I-I like that.”
“I bet you do, baby.” Good lord. His voice was deep and raspy, and the sexiness of it was enough to make you wet. He even showed you evidence per se, when he pulled his digits out, spreading two fingers apart to show you the clear, slimy substance that coated it. You were already a blushing mess when he showed you your cum, and felt the heat in your cheeks worsening as you watched him, eye-to-eye, suck your juices from his fingers. “Aww, my baby tastes sweet.”
“It’s the pineapple juice,” you joked, allowing him to cup your jaw and place a sloppy kiss on your mouth. “Mmm—I forgot to tell you.” You pulled away to look at your boyfriend. “I’m ovulating.”
Sukuna tilted his head, squeezing your bum tenderly as he replied, “Are you suggesting I get you pregnant?”
“No, silly!” You chuckled shyly while he positioned himself behind you. “I was trying to say that I get extra horny when I’m ovulating.”
He smiled, aroused more than ever as he heard you say those words out loud. “Too bad, I was thinking of creampie-ing you.”
A gasp flew out of your lips when Sukuna’s long, slender fingers performed circular motions on your clitoris, stretching your labia apart so he could insert two fingers at your entrance. “B-Babe!” Your widened eyes were in great contrast to his lust-filled ones as he found entertainment at your submission to pleasure. You gripped his wrist and tiptoed when he started scissoring his fingers inside, forcing you to raise your leg so he could continue to move his hand in and out of your sopping cunt. “Ahh—ah! S-Sukuna!”
He hadn’t heard his name from you in awhile and he found that amusing. “Hm, baby? Saying something?”
You squeezed your legs together to hide the clench that you were feeling inside, looking up at his crazed brown eyes and tracing his pectoral muscles with your fingers. You couldn’t hold it anymore, you were a willing slut ready to be pounded on by this tattooed man. “Please, f-fuck me.”
He reattached his lips back onto yours and pulled away just enough to keep your foreheads connected. “Not yet, baby girl.” A sly smirk spread off his lips. “That book you were reading earlier at the cafe,” he began, pulling his fingers away to turn you around, “It was smut, wasn’t it?”
Feeling a wave of embarrassment as he brought it up, you responded with a coquettish smile. “Maybe.”
Sukuna then pushed you down on your knees, letting you kneel down in front of his hard, veiny cock. He had stroked himself a few times—his other hand lifting your chin up—before he slapped his length against your lips. “Think you can show me how they did it in that book?”
“Why…” you trailed off, wrapping your hand around his cock, pumping the long, meaty shaft before placing your tongue on top of the swollen tip. He was all crazed and aroused when you kept eye-contact and started putting his member inside your mouth.
“Damn.” Your boyfriend threw his head back, caressing your cheek with his thumb. “Let’s make all your fantasies a reality, baby.”
Well, he was sweet for that. But also mischievous, too. He knew you could be just as naughty as him because he had seen the books you were reading and most of them were definitely far from innocent. Could he blame you? Sometimes, reading about it was better than experiencing it. Yet with your boyfriend’s ego, he wasn’t one to allow your fictional men to be better than him in all aspects. Physically. Emotionally. Sexually.
You let him guide your hand into stroking his shaft before you ejected spit on the pink head, using it to lubricate his aching member while you lowered yourself further to fit his firm balls inside your mouth. It gave you utmost pleasure to hear his guttural moans when you swirled your tongue around his bollocks—tasting the same flesh that carried all of his sperm, and releasing it from your mouth to give his cock the same attention. At first, you kissed his swollen tip and treated it like a lollipop, then you started sucking every inch of his length by bobbing your head at a stable rhythm. “Mmm.” You could hear curses leaving his pretty lips as he held your head in place, snapping his hips forward until you were gagging from the intense penetration on your throat.
You learned all these after a single read at your favorite 18+ book.
“That’s a good girl.” His praise rang in your ears like a sweet melody.
Even without a reflection to look at, this was the most erotogenic exchange you two had ever done as a couple. And along with that, his half lidded eyes were staring down at you, judging you and your every move.
You did your best to give him a stellar performance, did your most at pleasuring his member, and did everything that he liked whenever you were sucking his cock. And just like that, thick ropes of cum were sent straight down your throat. The musky, metallic taste didn’t stop you from swallowing all of his seed and you had to show your tongue to make him know that you did a good job at taking all of his semen. Nothing was wasted.
Not even time, because as soon as you finished giving him a blowjob, he was already carrying you out of the bathroom without drying yourselves off. You were thrown into your double bed, manhandled into spreading your legs apart before your animalistic lover plunged his face onto your pussy.
“S-Sukuna—! Mmm—fuck!”
He had your back arching because of how deep his tongue was going inside, tasting your walls and kissing your cunt like he would do with your mouth. He was smooching off your labia like a hungry beast, eating you out as if he wasn’t satisfied by the juices that he was sucking from you. You were already in your seventh heaven, unable to think straight when he added his middle finger to the movements of his tongue. If fingering your pussy and lapping your clitoris weren’t enough to drive you crazy, maybe grabbing a fistful of pinkish hair was a sign for him to stop before you could truly lose it. You could feel fire pooling on your lower abdomen and your legs were already shaking uncontrollably, your toes curling wantonly—with the suction he was doing on your cunt, you ended up screaming for his name and engulfing his mouth with your Earth-shattering release.
“Haah! ‘Kuna, p-please…”
As he detached his mouth from your entrance, he started climbing up, visibly pleased with the way he ravaged your cunt. He was wiping the corner of his mouth with his thumb, pressing his lips down on yours to make you taste your own fluid. A string of saliva connected your mouth to his before he grabbed ahold of his erect member once again. It hadn’t even been more than two minutes and you were already being hauled into another position. “Let me fuck you from behind.”
“Lovey, w-wait.”
“Ass up, baby.” His patience was growing thin when he dragged your body by raising your hips close to his crotch and pressing your head down against the mattress. Your boyfriend cared none for the embarrassment that settled on your heated cheeks when he spread your buttocks apart so he could ogle at the exact hole that he was about to enter.
“No, wait!” you begged, looking up at him with a plea, “Condom, please.”
The realization hit his face. “I think I’m all out, baby. Let me check,” he said, pulling away and stumbling towards his discarded pants on the floor, hoping desperately that he would find an unused packet of condom. Just to his luck, he had one more packet hidden between the folds of his leather wallet. “Got it!”
He hastily ripped the packet with his teeth, taking the rubber out, and rolling it slowly to cover his entire length. You remained on all fours, watching him as he ejected spit on his fingers, which he soon used to lubricate your entrance.
Did he give you any time to adjust? That word didn’t even exist in his vocabulary when he sunk all seven inches inside of your cunt, wrecking you open to the point where you could feel a stinging sensation on your entrance after being stretched by his fully erect cock. “Best pussy in the entire world.”
You were suppressing your moans from coming out too loud while you bit on a pillow, nails digging on the sheets as your lover penetrated your tight vaginal walls. “Ahh! M-More… More.” He was treating you like a fleshlight as he continued to rut your sopping cunt with his fat cock, absolutely enjoying how your warm pussy was milking his full length.
“Can your fictional boys fuck you like this, baby?” he breathed, all deep and velvety as he gave you the most rhythmical skin-slapping thrusts. He was so deep in your cavern that you could feel the base of his cock slamming against your ass. You didn’t even notice the hand that was snaking on your front to massage your bouncing tit because you were far too lost in the shockwaves of sexual gratification. “No other man can fuck you this good.”
It was like he was riding his own bike. With how fast his pace was increasing, you were already too limp to feel his hard thrusts.
Your brain was short-circuiting from the amount of sensation that was entering your body, intoxicated by the waves of libido in your system that was heightening more and more as he continued to satisfy your insatiable heat. You could barely think straight. You lost your sanity. All the modest parts of you had completely dissolved into a bitch in heat. Like a needy little whore. You didn’t even have any control of your own words when you started telling Sukuna, “I… want… you to keep… fucking me… like this.” Another forceful slam elicited a mewl out of you. “A-Aah! Haah!”
“Shit, I’m gonna cum.” Your boyfriend held a tighter grip on your hips, your moaning face leaving an imprint on his mind as he propelled your body forward and raced towards his ecstasy. After yet another thrust or two, or three, or four… Spurts of warm seed started exploding into the rubber. Sukuna’s thrust had become unsteady, his body falling down on the bed but his member still remaining inside of you. “I can’t get enough of your pussy, baby.”
You were catching your breath after he broke your mind into becoming this sex-obsessed freak. “Lookie! My bed’s all wet now.”
He smiled and finally pulled out, only to lean down again and plant a soft kiss on your forehead. “Let me carry you to the couch,” he offered, but first he had to pull the condom out of his cock to reveal a cum-filled rubber. “Christ. I came a lot.”
In other words, his cum would have been dripping out of your pussy for days.
You extended your arms, awaiting to be lifted like a princess by your lover. “Carry me now, please!”
“I will, baby.” Without hesitation, he scooped you up in his tattooed arms. He, too, was heavy breathing, but he still effortlessly held you. “I’ll take care of cleaning your sheets while you sleep.”
He was already walking towards the living room as you kicked your feet in the air, giving his cheek a gentle squeeze. “Can you clean out Casper’s litter box, too?”
Sukuna made a face of disgust, glancing at the cat before gently setting you down on the couch. “Only if he stops being an asshole,” he joked, but your pleading expression melted his resolve. “Alright, fine. I’ll take care of your bed, your cat’s litter... what else? You’re lucky I love you, you know.” He moved to the window, drawing the curtains closed to shield you from prying eyes. “Do you think your neighbors saw us fuck earlier? I forgot to pull the curtains on your bedroom.”
You laughed, pulling the sheets up to cover yourself. “Well, there’s this couple that’s been giving me strange looks lately, so it definitely isn’t the first time they’ve seen us do it.”
“It’s like that movie we watched,” Sukuna mused, trying to recall the title.
“The Voyeurs!” you both exclaimed in unison, sharing a laugh before you gestured to him. “Get dressed, lovey!”
Sukuna returned to tuck you in under the thin sheets, leaning down to give you a peck on the lips. “And you get some rest now, baby.”
~~
The morning sun filtered through the curtains as you woke up, stretching lazily in bed to find Casper purring next to you. That’s strange, you thought. Your cat normally wouldn’t go near you when your boyfriend was around, so you turned to your side, expecting to find Sukuna still sleeping beside you, but the spot was empty. Confused, you glanced around the room, noticing that his motorcycle gear was also missing from its usual place.
“Lovey?” you called out through the empty apartment. “Where are you?”
With no response received, you walked towards your bedroom and found the sheets had been changed and everything was tidy. Searching the bathroom yielded no clues to Sukuna’s whereabouts either. And a quick trip downstairs to check his usual parking spot confirmed your suspicion—he had left without a word.
You frowned, reaching for your phone to send him an annoyed text.
YOU: love, where are you?
YOU: i’m not some kind of booty call that you can just leave the next morning without a say
The minutes ticked by as you waited for a reply, feeling a mix of frustration and worry because of his absence. Were you overthinking this? Perhaps he was just out to get you lunch. Or maybe he had an emergency. You tried to calm yourself down by breathing deeply and thinking of any possible explanation other than the worst-case scenario. Maybe his phone died, or he got caught up in something urgent. But after an hour of no response, worry began to gnaw at you. Did he just ghost me?
“Oh, God.” You paced back and forth in your apartment, checking your phone repeatedly for any sign of a message or call from Sukuna. “Oh, God. Oh, God! I’ve read about this a lot. Why are guys such jerks?”
You tried to rationalize his absence, hoping for a reasonable explanation, but your mind persisted racing through various scenarios, with each one more disheartening than the last. Maybe he’d gotten tired of you, or perhaps he was scared of commitment. The frustration and confusion were almost unbearable. Was the sex last night not good enough for him?
That situation lasted the entire afternoon. And you wanted to rip your hair out at the fact that your boyfriend had been gone for hours, his phone unreachable, and his friends having no idea where he was.
So as the evening approached and your anxiety grew, you decided to call Sukuna again. It was the 47th missed call. But just as you were about to dial his number once more, you heard the familiar roar of his R1.
“What the hell.” You rushed to the window and saw your boyfriend pulling into the parking area. Relief flooded your system as you watched him switch off the engine, dismount his bike, and walk leisurely towards your apartment building’s lobby like he didn’t just leave an anxious girlfriend without a note the morning after he fucked her brains out.
You waited for him to arrive at your doorstep, your heart calmer but still ticking with anxiety as the clock rang in your ears. You were ready to give him a lashing for being unresponsive to your texts and calls. But as the door swung open, your boyfriend knowing your passcode by heart, you didn’t expect that your anger at him would end up being for a totally different reason.
Because there he was, standing by your door looking slightly disheveled but with a sheepish smile on his face. He held a Barnes & Noble bag in one hand.
“Hey, baby—”
“What the heck happened?” You rushed to him, noticing the scrapes and bruises on his face. “Are you okay? I was worried sick!”
Sukuna removed his helmet and winced slightly, the corner of his lower lip was smeared with dried blood. “Sorry, my love,” he spoke softly, going in for a comforting hug, “I wanted to surprise you, but things got a little complicated.”
You pulled away to touch his bruised cheek. “You’re hurt. Why aren’t you answering my texts?”
“Phone’s dead,” he answered, showing you his lifeless phone before handing over the bag. “And this is for you, my beautiful princess.”
Taking the bag, you said, “You didn’t have to do this.” Then your eyes scanned his face for any sign of serious injury.
“I wanted to,” he insisted, his voice filled with affection despite his exhaustion. “I’m sorry for making you worry.”
You eyed the Barnes & Noble bag, realizing that the book inside was the exact one you had mentioned wanting yesterday. Your emotions swirled in a mix of frustration and tenderness. Should you lecture him for being so reckless, or cry because of how romantic it was that he went out of his way to get the book you had been searching for?
But first and foremost, how and where did he get all those bruises?
Before you could ask, he already had an answer prepared. “Long story, baby. Let's just say I had a little run-in with another biker who had the same idea as me.”
You grabbed his hand and guided him to sit on the couch while you hurriedly fetched your first aid kit. As you tended to the scrapes on Sukuna’s face, Casper the cat approached cautiously, sniffing his scent before surprising both of you by leaning against your boyfriend’s leg.
“Meow~”
“Casper!” Sukuna exclaimed joyfully, picking up the cat with a playful flourish like how Rafiki carried Simba in The Lion King “Babe, he finally likes me!”
You rolled your eyes affectionately and joined Sukuna on the couch, gently tilting his chin to examine his bruise. “Tell me exactly what happened,” you asked with a hint of sternness, “You went all over town just for this book?”
Your boyfriend carefully set Casper back down and nodded. “Yeah, it’s the last one they had. Had to fight for it, though.” He then rubbed the back of his neck, embarrassed. “I don’t even get a kiss or a thank you?”
At once, all your defenses crumbled. You let go of the gauze in your hand and pulled your boyfriend into a tender kiss, wrapping him in a warm hug afterward. “You’re insane, you know that? I was so worried about you, and now I find out you spent the whole day looking for this book.” You sighed, overwhelmed by the rollercoaster of emotions the day had brought. Despite everything, you couldn’t help but feel a rush of love for the man who had gone to such lengths to make you happy. “But thank you, lovey. That’s really sweet of you.”
Sukuna, now grinning broadly, held you closer around the waist. “Always welcome, my baby.”
“Now, tell me about that biker,” you began, taking a q-tip and some ointment, “How’d you get into a fight?”
“Oh, you wouldn’t believe it,” he recalled, amused at the thought, “He was going to get the book for his girl, too. But I got there first, and he wouldn’t let me have it.”
Jesus. You couldn’t decide whether to laugh or sigh at the absurdity of two bikers squabbling over a book in a bookstore. “You should’ve just let him have it.”
“But baby!” he protested like a child, “I couldn’t come home empty-handed. I already feel bad we didn’t get to pass by the bookstore yesterday.”
What a stubborn boyfriend you have. “I already told you it’s okay, lovey. You’re the best boyfriend already. I appreciate the effort and I’m even more in love with you now than ever,” you reassured, placing a light kiss on the tip of his nose, “Now, is there anything I can give you in return? As a thank you?”
Oh, boy. You already assumed he would request for something concerning activities in bed. But his face suddenly lit up as if a lightbulb just appeared above his head. His idea was surely not what you had in mind.
“How about I teach you how to ride my bike?”
~~
The sun hung low on the horizon as Sukuna stood beside his Yamaha R1, patiently explaining the basics of riding ‘Fury’ to you. He seemed to be heavily enjoying this whole thing. Meanwhile, you, donning a helmet and gloves, were fully geared up, nervousness evident as you cautiously swung your leg over the bike.
“Ah, dammit.” Your boyfriend was grinning like an idiot as he saw you sitting on his bike. “You’re gonna be one hot biker girl. I can’t! You’re mine. Don’t let them see you like this, babe!”
“Stop exaggerating!” you retorted, your voice tense with nerves as you gripped the handlebars tightly. “This bike feels… big.”
“Like my cock?”
“Stop it.”
Sukuna erupted into a chuckle before proceeding to move closer to you. “Alright, babe. Remember what I showed you about the clutch and throttle control,” he encouraged, “Take it slow.”
Nodding, you started the bike and felt the powerful engine rumble beneath you. With your boyfriend’s guidance, you eased out the clutch and gave a tentative twist of the throttle. The bike lurched forward, causing you to panic and squeeze the brakes hard.
“Oh, my God!” You let out a squeak of surprise. “Oh, my God! I’m gonna die.”
“Easy there.” He held your waist protectively. “Let’s try one more time?”
You took a deep breath, trying to ignore the intimidating power of the machine beneath you and instead focus on Sukuna’s instructions. Even with his guidance, you found yourself repeating the same mistake where this time, you braked too hard again, causing your body to jolt forward dangerously. You would have fallen from the bike if not for your boyfriend catching you right on time.
“I can’t do this…” You shook your head, frantically. “I’m not cut out for this.”
Sukuna held you steady, his hands firm yet reassuring. “Hey, it’s okay,” he said softly, looking into your eyes. “It takes time, alright? You’re doing fine. Maybe we should start with something smaller.”
You let out a heavy exhale as Sukuna carried you off his bike. “Yeah, maybe.”
“Like a lower cc bike?” he suggested, giving your helmet a playful tap. “Let’s start you off on a 150cc bike. Yuuji has a CBR150R we can borrow.”
“I wouldn’t want to wreck your nephew’s bike,” you teased, watching from the side as Sukuna effortlessly mounted his own bike.
He revved the engine and reached out for your hand, helping you settle in behind him. “Then, you can just stay being my backpack princess for now”
With your arms securely around his waist, the bike accelerated, the wind whipping against your helmet visor. The view of the sunset was perfect for this ride. “So, does that mean I’m not your ride or die anymore?”
Sukuna took your hand from behind, lifting it to his lips for a kiss. “Nah. You’ll always be my ride or die, baby.”
Synopsis: A certain dark haired leader of a biker club caught your attention online and you've been watching his weekly races in secret—or so you thought. Little did you know, this handsome biker already knows about his cute little stalker...
Content Warnings: Stalking but online. Smut🔞 after a bit of plot. Unprotected sex, P in V (from the behind), riding, rough, dirty talk(?), ass slapping, pet names, choking(kinda—), aftercare in the shower. Chris is a tease (maybe like a bit?).
Minors do not interact!!!
Note: 17 days late, but better than never— HAPPY NEW YEAR! I've been wanting to draw and write biker Chan for a LONG LONG TIME, so finally here it is. (Yes that drawing is done by me haha)
If this isn't your thing, you're more than welcome to skip it. Reblogs, likes, comments and feedbacks are always appreciated.
The bike flashed away into the stretching tracks in a blink of an eye, leaving a trail of excitement and dust in its wake. The crowd erupted in cheers, their voices drowned out by the fading growl of the engine.
You pushed your hood further over your head to cover your hair flying in that direction, blending into the mass of onlookers while your eyes stayed glued to the figure disappearing into the night.
Christopher Bang Chan.
Did an accidental misclick on a hashtag "NightRider" lead you into his world? Yes.
You did have an unexplainable attraction towards bikes. It was the thrill, the speed, the freedom. Even if you couldn't ride one, the way bikes looked like a beast that could conquer the roads, it fascinated you.
But this— this wasn't just an attraction towards the sleek BMW S1000rr that was speeding this evening. No.
A random late-night scroll had led you to a short video of him—helmet off, his hair dark slightly tousled, a cocky grin tugging at his lips as he dismounted his bike like he owned the world. That pulled you like a magnet to steel.
You watched him, racing the tracks with swift motion, in practice ease, over taking every other rider, everything about him demanding attention.
Every other rider was left in his dust, and the cheers of his friends, 7 guys echoed above the deafening roar of the engines.
"Teach these bastards why they can’t touch you!” one of them bellowed, pumping his fist in the air, his blood red hair catching the rays of the setting sun.
“Eat that, losers!” another laughed, slapping the back of the guy next to him as they all leaned against their bikes, eyes glued to Chan’s figure dominating the track.
In a final swift, Chan drifted his bike as he reached the finish line, the tires screeching against the asphalt in a perfect arc. A plume of smoke curled up from under the wheels, his dimpled grin flashing at his victory and triumph.
The lingering growl of his bike continued as he sat there for a moment, one leg propped on the ground as if soaking in the chaos he had just commanded. His friends were the loudest of all, their jeers and cackles cutting through the noise.
Chan finally killed the engine and swung off the bike with the same effortless grace that had first caught your attention online. He pulled off his helmet, shaking his head slightly to ruffle his dark hair into place.
His eyes gleamed with a mix of adrenaline and triumph as he tucked the helmet under one arm and began walking toward his friends.
“That’s how it’s done, you fucking legend!” yelled one in a strong Australian accent, smacking Chan’s shoulder, the redhead taking his helmet from him and handing in a water bottle.
“Told you it wasn’t even a competition,” Chan quipped, his voice smooth but laced with that cocky edge that made your stomach flip.
The crowd began descending, slowly leaving you alone in your place, your hood over your head, covering your face slightly. Just as you were about to look away, his eyes briefly landed on you.
Your breath caught in your throat at the intensity of his gaze on you. It was like he knew who you were but that was impossible. You've been secretly coming to the race every Saturday (telling your parents that you're going to the library) ever since you discovered his page and of course he doesn't know who you are.
It's out of the question.
Chan's smirk deepened, something wicked flashing in his expression. You quickly looked away, pretending to fidget with your phone, but you could still feel the heat of his gaze.
Before you made a fool of yourself, you stood up and walked towards the end of the track, pulling your hood lower to shield your face. Just as you were about to step into the shadows, a sharp, confident whistle cut through the air, freezing you in your tracks.
Your heart was pounding in your ears, you didn't turn around but felt Chan's lingering gaze pressing against your back. You turned slightly to see through your shoulders but then turned around and walked away as if you didn't hear anything at all.
“That chick’s been here for the last four weeks.” Minho commented, his voice casual as he tipped back his can of Red Bull.
Chan didn’t respond immediately, his eyes still fixed on the spot where you had disappeared into the shadows. His jaw tensed slightly, a flicker of something unreadable flashing in his gaze.
He could still picture the way you had glanced over your shoulder for a split second, like you’d been caught but refused to admit it.
"Oi, Chan," Felix called out, snapping him out of his thoughts. "You losing your touch, mate?"
The group erupted in laughter, their cackles echoing against the emptying track.
“Maybe she’s got better taste than you thought,” I.N added, smirking as he leaned against his own bike.
"She’ll come around." Chan said smoothly, shrugging nonchalantly, the cocky edge in his voice masking the intrigue bubbling beneath the surface.
"Will she now?" Hyunjin mocked, raising an eyebrow. "What makes you so sure?"
"Trust me," he said, his tone low and deliberate. "No one comes to my races four weeks in a row without a reason." A devilish smirk tipped the corner of his lips that made the guys exchange glances.
"Whatever you're thinking, don't." Changbin interrupted, pushing himself upright with a sharp look.
"You don't even know what I was thinking." Chan shot back, running a hand through his dark, tousled hair. "Besides, if she keeps coming back, she’s going to slip up eventually. And when she does…”
Changbin rolled his eyes at him and grabbed a Red Bull from the ice box. He knew that Chan wasn't going to listen to what he's gonna say anyway.
Chan walked towards his bike and hoped on, revving his engine as it roared to life and slipping his helmet on. He glanced at his friends, his smirk turning downright wicked.
"Then what?" Hyunjin asked, crossing his arms.
"She wanted my attention, so she got it. And I want something in return.”
With that, he sped off into the night, leaving the guys behind in a cloud of smoke and laughter.
***
"Three, two, one, let's gooo!..."
You kept scrolling through Instagram reels, nothing interesting that grabbed your attention.
But you couldn't stop thinking about Chan...
It's Saturday, four o'clock in the evening. His races start at five. You went through his Instagram and TikTok, creating a folder in your saves for his biking videos and you catch yourself rewatching his highlights again and again.
Were you guilty for stalking him online? A bit—but you couldn't stop it. His bike didn't even fascinate you anymore the way it did the first time. You just were feeling obsessed with him.
The race track was only a few blocks away from you and you couldn't help but think, could he have crossed your home? You never noticed it but now everytime you hear a speeding engine, you look out your window, hoping it's Chan.
Yeah you were pretty much obsessed.
You went back to Chan's account and scrolled down his feed, opening some of his old posts when suddenly the phone slipped out of your hand and fell on your face.
"Fuck!" You yelped, rubbing your forehead, eyes widening as you glanced at the screen in horror.
Oh fuck—
You accidentally liked a picture of him from two years ago.
The red heart stared back at you, mocking your clumsiness, your heart sank as panic took over.
“Oh, no, no, no…” you whispered, scrambling to unlike it. You tapped the heart again, watching it disappear, but the damage was already done. Your phone trembled in your hands as you stared at the post, your reflection visible in the darkened screen.
It was a picture of him leaning casually against his bike, wearing a tank top with his buff arms crossed, a majestically inked dragon flexing on his bicep.
"Shit," you muttered under your breath, clutching your forehead. Does he get notifications for old likes? Does Instagram even do that?
You sat up, your mind racing just as fast as his bike. He had half a million followers, so maybe he wouldn’t notice, right? But what if he did? What if he checked? What if he remembered your face from the track and connected the dots?
"Calm down," you whispered, trying to reason with yourself. "He probably won’t even notice."
But deep down, a small voice in the back of your mind said otherwise.
Because if there was one thing you’d learned about Chan from watching him race, it was that he noticed everything.
~
"She'll be here today." Chan said, tossing the Red Bull can in the trash and turning towards his friends.
Seungmin tilted his head, looking up from his phone, arching a skeptical brow. "Oh, so now you're a psychic?"
Chan rolled his eyes, leaning casually against his bike. “No. She's been coming every Saturday, there's no way she'll not come today."
“You’ve been stalking your stalker?” Felix chimed in, his deep voice carrying a note of amusement as he slipped his hands in the pocket of his pants.
Chan smirked, unbothered by the jab. “I don’t need to stalk. She makes herself obvious. Hood up, always at the same damn spot. Like clockwork.”
“Maybe she’s just here for the bikes,” Seungmin said with a shrug, going back to scrolling on his phone. Chan shook his head, his smirk widening.
Chan shook his head, his smirk widening. “Nah, it’s not the bikes anymore. Her eyes practically screamed busted when I whistled at her.”
“That’s because you’re fucking annoying.” Jisung piped up, sipping from his own can of soda. “If someone whistled at me in public, I’d leave too.”
The group laughed, but Chan’s gaze remained steady, fixed on the track like he was already envisioning you standing there.
"Race instead of me." Chan effortlessly tossed his keys at Changbin.
"What?" Changbin caught the keys with a sharp reflex, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion.
"If she's really into the bikes, she wouldn't care if the rider is different. But if that's not the case..." His smirk grew wider.
"Then she'll know it's not me the second you hit the track." Chan finished, rolling his helmet between his hands. "She’s been watching me, not the bike. Let’s see if she’s as observant as I think."
Changbin raised an eyebrow, twirling the keys in his hand. “So, you’re basically using me as bait?”
“Not bait,” Chan corrected, handing Changbin his helmet and clapping him on the shoulder. “More like... a decoy. Just ride, keep it clean, and make it convincing. Wear my helmet, keep your head down, and let me handle the rest.”
“This is either genius or the dumbest thing you’ve ever done.” Felix said, shaking his head.
“Shut up and watch,” Chan said, his tone light but confident. He turned back to Changbin. “You good?”
Changbin sighed, slipping the helmet on. “Yeah, yeah. Just don’t blame me if I win and your little stalker realizes you’re not as fast as you think.”
The group laughed again, but Chan was already focused, his gaze cutting across the other riders getting ready for the race and watching the crowd gather, waiting for his shadowed muse.
The air began getting slightly colder, riders hopping on their bikes getting ready for the race. Chan stood with the guys, his back facing the crowd and his face hidden with a hoodie, watching Changbin rev up the engine.
He gave a small thumbs to Bin who responded with his own one and held the handle, preparing to flash away.
You finally managed to slowly get in your spot blending in with the crowd, your usual hood on, hair in front to shield your face, eyes glued on the riders before you.
At this point it felt silly than anything else, sneaking around every Saturday like you were some undercover agent. But you couldn’t stop yourself. The magnetic pull Chan had on you was impossible to ignore, even if you didn’t fully understand it yourself.
Your eyes scanned the lineup of riders, automatically locking onto the sleek, black BMW S1000rr. The sound of its engine roaring to life sent a familiar thrill through you, but something felt... different tonight.
The rider atop the bike gave a sharp nod, helmet obscuring his face. You couldn’t tell, but the way he usually carried himself—effortless confidence paired with a hint of smugness—seemed oddly subdued.
Your heart sank slightly. Was he even here tonight?
You pushed the thought away, gripping the edge of your hoodie to ground yourself. Focus. It didn’t matter. You were here for the race, for the thrill, not for him.
At least, that’s what you kept telling yourself since the last four races.
The countdown began, the cheers of the crowd growing louder with each passing second. The sound of engines revving filled the air, and you found yourself leaning forward slightly, anticipation buzzing through your veins.
Three... Two... One—
The riders shot forward, a blur of color and speed tearing down the track. Your eyes stayed glued to the black bike, trying to shake the unease gnawing at the back of your mind.
Is it him?
You watched curiously for the first two rounds, pushing away the feeling that it's not Chan but when it was the third round and you still didn't see his dramatic drift at the curved corners of the track, you were sure that it really wasn't Chan racing.
You leaned backwards exhaling and pulling out your phone, your interest in the race quietly dying down.
"I caught you princess..." A smug grin spread across Chan's face who had been secretly watching you but the race.
Hyunjin, who had also been watching you with Chan, waiting for him to be wrong, sighed dramatically, pulling a crumpled fifty out of his pocket and slapping it into Minho’s palm.
"Unbelievable," he muttered, shooting Chan a side glance. "She really is here for you man."
Chan chuckled, low and confident. “Told you,” he said, brushing past them as he made his way toward you.
You were distracted with the reels playing on your phone to notice until he sat next you, your eyes fell on that unmistakable silver bracelet you recognised instantly.
Your heart pounded in your ears.
“Enjoying the race?” a low, teasing voice asked, so close you could feel the faint vibration of it in your chest. You stiffened, your head snapping up.
And there he was. Bang Chan.
Sitting casually next to you, leaning back like he owned not just the seat, but the entire universe. His hoodie was slightly pushed back, giving you a perfect view of his sharp jawline and those maddening dimples that tugged at his smirk.
For the first time, you noticed how sharp his features were up close—perfectly sculpted, how his lashes framed those piercing eyes that seemed to see right through you.
You swallowed hard, your nerves threatening to spill over, but you kept your guard up and tried to calm your racing heart.
“You okay there, princess?” he drawled, his tone dripping with amusement. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost. Or maybe... me?”
You quickly snapped out of it, your face heating. “I’m fine,” you said, sitting straighter and forcing your voice to sound steady. "And I think you've mistaken me, I don't really know you."
Your lie was so bland, it practically hung in the air like a neon sign screaming caught red-handed.
Chan raised an eyebrow, playfully scoffing as he ran a hand through his hair. “Is that so?” he said, his tone laced with mock sincerity. He leaned in slightly, and you caught a faint whiff of leather and something distinctly him—sharp, clean, and deathly intoxicating.
“Yeah,” you replied, your voice firm despite the heat rising in your cheeks. “I don’t really follow bikers.”
“Hmm.” He tapped his chin theatrically, his eyes narrowing in playful suspicion. “Funny, because someone who doesn’t follow bikers somehow managed to stumble across my page. And, oh, what’s this?”
He mimicked scrolling on an invisible phone, his grin wicked. “Liked a post from two years ago? Now, that’s dedication for someone who doesn’t know me.”
Your stomach did a somersault, and for a moment, you were certain your face betrayed you. But you quickly composed yourself, leaning back slightly and crossing your arms. “That was an accident,” you said coolly, trying to ignore the way your pulse thundered in your ears.
Chan tilted his head, his dark eyes gleaming with amusement. “So you accidentally clicked on my profile, accidentally scrolled back two years, and accidentally double-tapped? Seems like a lot of accidents for one person.”
You huffed, glaring at him. “Are you always this full of yourself?”
“Only when I’m right.” He shot back smoothly, his dimpled grin so close now, you could count the faint freckles dotting his cheekbones.
You could do nothing to calm your racing heart as Chan adjusted his seat and leaned back, watching whoever was racing in his place. He didn't say a word after that, just stayed silent and concentrated on the track.
You kept glancing at him with the corner of your eyes without fully turning, focusing on the race as well, but you could have sworn that he could hear your pounding beats in your chest over the screeching tires.
Of course whoever was riding in on behalf of Chan won tonight's race in an equally dramatic drift, you caught Chan smirking and nodding proudly. You were unsure what to do and stood in your place while the crowd began standing up, then when you were about to leave, a hand wrapped around your wrist.
"Where are you off to now?" His dark eyes glinted under the dim lights, mischief oozing from every inch of his expression.
“You’ve been sneaking in to watch the race for weeks, and now that you’ve got what you wanted, you’re just gonna leave? That’s kinda rude, don’t you think?”
You bit your lip, debating your next words. His confidence was infuriating, but it was also… dangerously attractive. Finally, you sighed, meeting his gaze head-on.
“Fine,” you said, crossing your arms. “Maybe I did. So what?”
Chan blinked, momentarily caught off guard by your honesty, before breaking into a wide grin. “Well, that’s a first. Didn’t think you’d actually own up to it.”
“Is there a point to this conversation?” you shot back, your tone laced with feigned impatience, though your pulse still raced from his lingering touch.
Chan tilted his head, eyeing you thoughtfully, then exhaled a sharp breath. “Don’t you think it’s time you saw what it’s like on the track?”
You blinked at him, your breath hitching. “What are you talking about?”
He straightened up, fixing his hoodie. “I’m offering you a ride, princess. Around the track. Are you up for it, or not?”
The sass in his tone lit a fire in you. You loved bike rides, the rush of speed, the wind in your hair—but doing it with him? That felt like stepping into dangerous territory. Still, your pride wouldn’t let you back down.
You crossed your arms, feigning indifference. “Fine. Let’s see if your riding skills are as good as your ego.”
Chan chuckled, the sound deep and low, and it sent an unwelcome shiver down your spine. “Careful what you wish for, princess,” he said, stepping closer. “You might not be able to handle it.”
You scoffed, though your heart was pounding. “We’ll see about that.”
You followed Chan as he descended the stairs and made his way towards his friends, all of them surrounded with their own bikes, cans of Red Bull, wearing leather jackets.
“Yo, I.N!” Chan called out as you approached, his voice carrying over the noise of the dispersing crowd. He looked up from his phone, his expression curious.
“What’s up?” I.N asked, his brows lifting when he saw you trailing behind Chan.
Chan jerked his chin toward I.N’s helmet, which was resting on the bike parked beside him. “Hand that over. Our guest needs it.”
I.N blinked, clearly surprised. “Wait, she’s riding with you?”
“Finally got yourself a passenger?” Minho, who was leaning casually against his own bike, snorted.
“Just a little gratitude to her for being so kind and showing up to my races every week.” Chan replied smoothly, throwing you a sidelong glance.
Your cheeks flushed crimson but you didn't say anything. You couldn't because you felt like your throat was shut tight.
The group erupted into low chuckles, Minho gave Chan a knowing look, shaking his head in mock disbelief.
“Don’t mess up my helmet,” I.N said, handing it over. “It's my favourite one.”
You hesitated for a moment, then took it, your fingers brushing against his. “Don't worry, I won't.” You said softly.
The group watched you curiously as if they were waiting for you to make a mistake but Chan’s gaze was the only one you cared about. He stepped closer, his voice dropping low enough that only you could hear.
“Nervous?” he asked, his lips twitching into a knowing smirk.
You lifted your chin, refusing to give him the satisfaction. “Not even a little.”
His smirk deepened. “Good. Don't hold back and enjoy the ride.”
Changbin threw the keys at Chan and handed him the helmet, moving aside revealing the sleek black BMW, shining under the bright full moon light.
Chan got on the bike and you climbed up behind him. The tension crackled between you like static, and you couldn’t decide if you wanted to throttle him—or hold on tighter.
The engine roared to life, the deep, guttural sound vibrating through your body. Your grip on the seat tightened as Chan revved the engine, his dimpled smirk still firmly in place as he glanced back over his shoulder at you.
With a swift twist of his wrist, the bike shot forward, the sudden burst of speed forcing a gasp from your lips. Instinctively, your hands flew to his waist, gripping tightly as the world blurred around you.
The track stretched out like a silver ribbon under the moonlight, the cool night air whipping past your face, your hair dancing in the wind like a wild, untamed spirit. Chan maneuvered the bike with practiced ease, leaning into sharp turns and accelerating down straightaways.
The bike slowed slightly as he leaned into another turn, and you took the chance to glance at him. The confidence in his posture, the way his shoulders moved with the bike—it was magnetic.
“Enjoying the view?” he teased, his voice cutting through the wind.
You scowled, your cheeks heating. “Focus on the road, Chan.”
“I always do,” he replied smoothly. “But you’re making it a little hard, princess.”
Your grip on his waist tightened involuntarily, and you bit the inside of your cheek to keep from saying something you might regret. The speed continued until Chan slowed down, pulling to a stop at the other side of the track, the starting point looking like the size of an ant.
The sudden stillness was deafening compared to the roar of the engine moments ago. The cool night air clung to your skin, but it was nothing compared to the heat radiating between you and Chan.
He shifted slightly, his body still straddling the bike as he turned his head toward you, his dark eyes glinting under the pale glow of the moon. “Tight grip you’ve got there, princess,” he said, his voice low and teasing.
“Didn’t think you’d want to hold on that bad.”
***
“Ah-Chan—” your moans poured out of your lips like an erotic symphony, blood rushing down like a flood bursting out of a dam as you felt his length inside of you, breasts bouncing up and down.
Oh you were holding on that bad.
“Ride my cock, baby. Good girl.” Chan hissed, your pussy clenching him so nicely it drove him wild.
What started off him not knowing your existence to getting to know eachother to now him fucking the senses out of you escalated fast.
You can't lie, you did have fantasies about him during the nights when you scrolled through his socials. Imagining how he would be in bed. Those dirty nights when you moaned his name, imagining his cock replacing your vibrator.
Would he be gentle? A complete opposite to the menace he was on the road?
Boy you were wrong. He was anything but gentle.
He was rough. Hard. Strong. And you enjoyed that very much.
Chan's hand fisted your hair as he pulled you towards him, his lips crashing yours drinking the taste of you. Your fingers clung onto his shoulder, nails grooving scars on his smooth skin, rocking your hips for more friction.
His cock filled you completely, stretching you in ways that made your vision blur. Every upward snap of his hips drove you closer to the edge, the friction against your walls making your toes curl.
“Chan—” you whimpered, breaking the kiss to gasp for air, your head falling back as his pace quickened.
He didn’t let up. If anything, the sight of you unraveling only spurred him on. His mouth trailed down your throat, teeth grazing your skin before he latched onto the sensitive spot just above your collarbone, sucking hard enough to leave a mark.
His lips latched on your erect nipple, sucking and licking on it, the obscene sounds of him groaning feeling like music to your ears.
Wetness gushed down your thighs and onto his, a sinful symphony of wet, desperate noises that only fueled the fire between you.
“So fucking perfect for me.” he praised, his lips brushing against your ear as he pinched and played with your slick nipple that sent a jolt of pleasure straight to your core.
You felt so dirty and depraved, shamelessly riding his cock, his praises turning you on even more.
“Should I punish this pussy for stalking me baby? Hmm?” His hand slipped between your bodies, his thumb finding your swollen clit, triggering an orgasm to break free just from his words.
He already “punished” you for stalking him by bending you over and fucking you to oblivion on his bike a week ago but he is so cocky and mean, he loved using that every chance he got.
“Or should I fuck you from behind and wreck you till you make a sweet mess all over my cock?”
Your mouth fell open in a silent scream as your release slammed through you, your body convulsing and your walls clenched around him, drawing a deep, guttural moan from his lips.
You couldn't even process the aftershocks of your climax and before you knew it, you were on all fours, Chan's eyes glued on your glistening slick pussy, the angry tip of his cock grazing and teasing your swollen folds.
“Chan— mngh,” you pushed back against him, whining with need, feeling the anticipation rebuild as you kept feeling the tip nudge against your entrance.
“Needy little thing, aren’t you?” he teased, his voice a dark purr that sent a shiver down your spine. “Barely gave you time to breathe, and here you are, already begging for me to ruin you again.”
Your fingers clenched the sheets, your body trembling from the mix of frustration and desire. “Please, Chan,” you breathed, voice muffled and desperate.
“Please, what?” he sneered, leaning down so his chest pressed against your back, his silver chain and bracelet on his wrist touching your skin, cold.
His breath was hot against your ear, and his hand slid up your body to grip your throat. “You want me to fuck you? Say it.”
Your cheeks burned, but the heat between your legs overshadowed any embarrassment. “I need you to fuck me, Chan,” you whispered, then louder, “Ruin me. Wreck me.”
He groaned at your words, his hand tightening slightly around your throat. “Good girl. That’s what I like to hear.”
Without another word, he thrust into you in one brutal stroke, knocking the air from your lungs. Your hands flew forward to steady yourself, a gasp tearing from your throat as he set a punishing pace, his hips slamming into yours with a force that had the bed creaking beneath.
“Look at you,” he continued, his tone dripping with arrogance. “So fucking cock-drunk, you can’t even think straight.”
You tried to speak, but he cut you off with a sharp thrust that made you cry out. His grip on your waist was bruising, holding you in place as he pounded into you mercilessly.
Every stroke hitting deeper, harder, until you were a squirming mess beneath him. His balls slapped against your clit, an almost tight hand around your throat had your vision going white.
His teeth sank into your soft skin, leaving a ruthless mark on your shoulder and his hand met with a sharp slap! on your ass. The pleasure of it overlapped the pain, relentless drilling on your sloppy cunt that made you grab the headboard.
“FUCK! I can't—” Your cries echoed off the walls of your bedroom, loud and feral.
“You can’t what?” Chan snarled, his voice laced with mockery as he dragged his cock out almost completely before slamming back in, hitting that spot and your skin meeting with another sharp slap!
His teeth grazed your earlobe as his hand gripped your hip tightly, holding you in place. “Can’t take me? Too much for this tight little cunt?”
“Y-yes—no—I don’t know!” you sobbed, your fingers clawing at the headboard as your body quivered beneath him.
His hand slid up on your throat, pulling you upright so your back was flush against his chest. The new angle made you scream, his cock hitting even deeper, harder, the relentless pace leaving you on the verge of tears.
“That’s it,” he groaned, his voice gravelly and thick with lust. “Scream for me, baby. Let the whole world know who’s making you feel this good.”
The way his cock kept hitting the right spots made you climb higher and higher, the knot tightening, only seconds away from snapping, your whimpers and moans poured out endlessly.
“I'm gonna come— I'm—”
You couldn't even finish your sentence as the second orgasm left you shaking, trembling and reeling beneath him. Your walls clamped down on his cock, pulling him deeper until he spilled his seed in you.
“Fuck.” Chan groaned, his grip on your throat loosening as he chased his own release. His hips stuttered, a low, guttural moan escaping his lips, cock twitching as he pumped you full.
Breaths ragged and heavy, the room was mixed in scents of mint and sex. Chan collapsed forward, but braced himself to avoid crushing you beneath his weight.
“You did so good, baby,” He murmured, his voice low and thick, trying to catch his breath while he nipped your sensitive skin.
Both of you were drenched in sweat, the mingling of your bodies making the heat in the room unbearable, yet neither of you moved.
His cock softened inside you, but he didn’t pull out. Instead, he just leaned forward kissing the nape of your neck and shifted slightly, you winced at the feeling of him still inside you, oversensitivity making your nerves spark.
Slowly your bodies untangled and he fell on his back next to you, the both of you just lay there, staring at the ceiling, the weight of what just happened settling in.
You gently turned your head to see Chan, who was lost in his own thoughts. He felt you watching him and he turned too, a soft smile tipping the corner of his lips, his fingers brushing a few strands of hair from your face.
His eyes trailed down your body, skin peppered with his bite marks and hickeys, something unusually painful stung in his chest even though he had never felt that before.
You moved closer to him, pecking a sweet kiss on his nose that made him knit his brows smiling.
“I’m okay, you didn’t hurt me if you think you did.” You said reassuringly.
Chan let out a soft breath, his smile faltering for a moment as he studied your face. His fingers ghosted over a particularly dark bruise on your collarbone, his touch featherlight.
“You sure?” he asked, his voice quieter than usual, his teasing edge nowhere to be found.
You rolled your eyes, the faintest smile tugging at your lips. “Of course.” He huffed out a laugh, the sound vibrating against your cheek and kissed your forehead.
Chan got up from the bed and carried you in his arms towards the shower, you instinctively wrapped your arms around his neck, letting out a content sigh as your head rested against his chest.
Under the spraying water, the steam curled around the two of you, but his touch was what kept you warm.
He grabbed a washcloth and the soap, lathering it before starting at your shoulders. His touch was slow and deliberate, careful not to press too hard as he cleaned every inch of your skin.
When he reached your bruised hips, his lips ghosted over one of the marks that made your heart flutter.
Once he was satisfied, he handed you the cloth, smirking faintly. “Your turn, princess.”
You laughed softly, taking it from him and mimicking his careful actions. You then saw the scratch marks and crescent scars you had left on his skin, etched like tiny badges.
Your fingers ghosted over them as you cleaned him, a pang of guilt flashing through your chest.
“Sorry about these,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. Chan chuckled, his smirk softening into something warmer. “Don’t be. I like them."
Heat rose up your cheeks and you let out a small laugh, shaking your head.
When you reached his bicep, you couldn’t resist tracing the outline of his tattoo, your fingers brushing over the ink that decorated his skin.
“You really are full of surprises,” you said, your voice soft.
His brow quirked. “Oh yeah? Like what?”
“Like this,” you said, gesturing between the two of you. “The rough biker with the soft side. Didn’t think I’d ever see it.”
He smirked, pulling you closer under the spray of water. “Don’t tell anyone. You’ll ruin my reputation.”
You rolled your eyes but leaned into him anyway, letting the water cascade over both of you. Pearl-like drops of water slid down your bodies, your back pressed against the cold titles as Chan's mouth claimed yours.
After the shower Chan changed into his clothes and you slipped into comfy sweats, he grabbed his keys and helmet from the living room, walking toward the door with a cool, confident stride.
“My race is on Saturday,” He said, slipping on his helmet. “I hope you'll be there, princess.”
A chuckle escaped from your lips, your mind going back to how you went watch his races every Saturday without him knowing who you were.
“I guess I’ll see you there, then.”
Chan nodded, opening the front door and stepping out, you watched him climb on his bike, revving the engine back to life. With a twist on the handle, he zoomed out into the night, flashing away into the stretching darkness leaving a trail of himself behind.
You couldn’t help but think that stumbling across that video online of a certain biker had definitely been the best misstep of your life.
Warnings: angst, asshole Steve, roughness, I’ll label this dubcon throughout the story, rough sex, semi-public sex, mistreatment, (soft) dark Steve, toxic relationship, power imbalance, somnophilia, doggy style, pussy eating, smut, unprotected sex, vaginal sex, injuries, blood, possessive Steve, violence, a hint of fluff
A/N: Please heed the warnings for this story.
Natasha rolled her eyes when you longingly looked your boss’s way. She sighed and poured you a drink. “Y/N, stop wasting your time on Steve. He’s only going to break your heart or back. Maybe both.”
“No, you got it all wrong. He’s rough around the edges but treats the women he brings around so nicely.” You swooned, once again, over your boss. Steve Rogers. The co-owner of one of the most exclusive clubs in town.
“Girl, you better watch your back and panties around Steve Rogers,” Natasha, the bartender at the club, whispered. She didn’t want to catch Steve’s attention. He was a friend, but still her boss.
“I wouldn’t mind losing my panties around him.” You winked at her. “If you know what I mean, Nat.”
Natasha tried to talk sense into you, but you were looking at Steve again. “He’s not as sweet as he seems. Steve charms the ladies to get what he wants and drops them afterward. He’s not here for the long haul when it comes to relationships. Why don’t you look for a nice guy like Scott?”
“Scott?” You dipped your head to glance at the man sitting at the end of the bar. He wasn’t too bad to look at, had a solid job, and was nice. Natasha was right. Scott was a catch, but not the man you were yearning for. “No, he’s not it. He’s nice but…”
“You want to play with fire,” Natasha huffed while wiping the counter. “If you get burned, don’t come running to me, crying. I won’t hold your hand after he broke your heart.”
“What if he only breaks my back?” You sassed back, feeling Steve’s eyes on you. He looked at his expensive watch, frowning because your break was long over. “Shit, I think he’s mad.”
“You should go back to work and play with numbers instead of Steve’s balls,” Natasha joked, but her eyes narrowed in Steve’s direction. She knew about his habit of breaking women down to nothing, then molding them into perfect arm candies. The last thing she wanted was for him to break you too.
Steve watched you hop off the barstool to walk toward the back and get back to work. It’d be another long night. It wasn’t easy to make Steve’s business look legal. He was the leader of a criminal organization after all.
“Y/N, a word.” Steve was suddenly by your side. He slung his arm around your waist to guide you toward the back entrance.
“Uh—boss. I should head back toward my office. The numbers are waiting.” You nervously chuckled as he wouldn’t slow down. “Boss, I know I should’ve gone back to work ten minutes ago. I’m sorry I lost track of time.”
Steve didn’t say a word. He yanked you through the back door of the bar, the heavy door slamming shut behind you. You scrunched up your nose when the smell of dirt and stale beer hit your nostrils.
“Steve? Are you mad at me, boss? I told you I’m sorry…”
Steve spun you around and shoved you face-first against the rough wall. Your palms scraped the rough surface, and you squeaked at the sudden motion.
"You've been staring at me all night," Steve growled against your ear. His hand wrapped around your throat, forcing you to crane your neck. “You’re just another pathetic little slut wanting her fill.”
He roughly kicked your legs apart. One hand shoved your skirt up over your hips and ripped your panties off with one swift motion while the other worked his belt open.
You heard the zipper come down, heart racing. This was what you wanted, just not like this. Steve was rougher than expected, and you didn’t know how to feel when the thick head of his cock pressed against your bare cunt.
“Already wet,” he commented in a mocking tone. “I knew you'd be dripping for my cock like the whore you are. Remember, this is what you wanted.”
He slammed into you in one brutal thrust. You whimpered, the stretch burning, but he didn't give you time to adjust. Steve fucked you hard against the wall, hips snapping.
“You will take it,” he grunted. “That's all you’re good for. Just another tight hole for me to use.”
His fingers dug into your hips hard enough to leave marks on your body.
“Say it.”
You choked out a moan but uttered the words he wanted to hear.
“Say it louder, Y/N!”
“I’m your slut,” you gasped as he pounded deeper. “Only your slut, Steve.”
Steve laughed in your ear, his teeth tugging at your earlobe. “They all watched you make a fool out of yourself. You were walking around my bar like you deserve more than a quick fuck in a dirty alley.”
You were on the verge of tears, from the pleasurable pain, but also from the cruel reality finally setting in. Steve didn’t like you. He was using your body like he had used many before. You were no one special to him.
He reached around and rubbed your clit. Steve was a giver after all. He didn’t want the ladies to complain. ”Come on my cock, like the good whore you are. Listen to your boss.”
You whimpered his name when your high hit you. Your walls clenched around him, and he groaned, fucking you through it until his rhythm faltered. He buried himself deep and stilled his hips.
“Goddamnit, that’s a good little cunt.” He groaned in your ear, filling you up to the brim.
He pulled out, stepping away. Steve didn’t care that you couldn’t keep yourself upright. Your legs were shaking so hard that you lost your balance and ended up on the ground, cutting your leg on a shard. He tucked himself away, zipped up, and turned to leave.
“Here, clean yourself up and get back to work,” he spat, looking down at you like you were nothing but dirt. “What’s with the doe eyes? You wanted me to fuck you, remember? That’s how I treat the women I fuck. Are you happy now?”
You choked out a sob but didn’t tell him you were hurt in more than one way when he walked away, leaving you on the ground. His cum mixed with the blood seeping from the wound on your leg soaked the ground—a reminder of your downfall.
Steve was right. You wanted this. Him. All you were talking and fantasizing about was your boss, and you just paid the price for those daydreams.
Steve puffed out smoke when Sam joined him for a break. “So, Y/N is into you?” He smirked when Steve’s features darkened.
“Bucky talks too much,” Steve angrily replied. He couldn’t shake the image of you on the ground in that dirty alley for hours. It was for the best to keep you at arm’s length. “She’s just a love-sick puppy.”
“She’s a sweet one, Steve. You should leave her alone. I don’t think she’d survive you,” Sam joked, but Steve didn’t find it funny. He had already ruined you and your trust in him. There was no turning back now. His dark heart couldn’t let you in.
“Ah, are we talking about Y/N?” Bucky joined the conversation, grinning from ear to ear. He was the one riling Steve up earlier. “Did you already ask her out?”
“Shut up, James,” Steve hissed and took another sip from his drink. “You did enough tonight. I…I lost control and now…”
“Fuck,” Bucky blanched. His eyes widened, and he felt sick to his stomach. “What did you do, Steve? You didn’t kill her, right? Right…”
“Worse,” Steve grumbled under his breath. His eyes scanned the club, searching for a glimpse of you. “I ruined her.”
“Sex?” Bucky groaned. “Man, I thought you killed the sweet woman. So…was she good?” He grinned. “Did you make her cum?”
“I ruined her,” Steve repeated. He looked at Sam, seeing the judgment in the other man’s eyes. “I know, I know. You told me to leave her alone.”
“I told you not to treat her like the other women before her,” Sam chastised. “I’m not a saint, but hurting Y/N is a new low.”
Steve rose from his seat. He didn’t want to listen to his friend any longer. “I have something to take care of.”
Bucky chuckled while Sam angrily crossed his arms over his chest.
“He had to go and break the only nice woman at this club. Great,” Sam huffed and turned his attention back toward his drink. “I hope he at least puts a ring on her finger…”
“Nat, have you seen Y/N?” Steve asked after he circled the club for a second time. You weren’t at your office, the restrooms or the bar, and he slowly felt uneasy.
“Nope,” she replied, busy pouring another drink. “Not since you walked out of the back entrance with her some hours ago. It’s not my job to keep track of your employees, Steve.”
“I brought her to the hospital,” M’Baku casually said. He was about to take a break when he heard Steve talk about you.
“What? You brought her to a hospital?” Steve panted heavily. “Why? What happened?”
“Uh—I don’t know, boss.” M’Baku shrugged. “I walked out of the back entrance to smoke and found her on the ground. She was bleeding and looked like someone had attacked her.”
“Attacked. Her.” Natasha repeated. “Steve, did you leave her out there all alone?”
“How do you know she was attacked?” Steve growled, stepping closer. “Talk!”
“She was crying, bleeding, and looked like someone tugged at her clothing. I helped her up and drove her to Saint Mary’s Hospital. I wanted to call the cops, but she said no one hurt her. She slipped and fell.”
Steve didn’t listen any longer. He stormed toward the back entrance, fearing the worst.
“Mr. Rogers, please calm down. I can’t tell you anything about Ms. Y/L/N’s condition.” The doctor was breathing heavily while talking to Steve. “Please.”
Steve hesitated for only a second before he said, “Where is she? She’s my fiancée!”
“She’s still in the emergency room. We fixed her wound, and can release her any time,” the doctor stammered. He didn’t believe Steve, but he knew your boss’s reputation. The last thing he needed was to get Steve Rogers’ attention.
“Good. Bring me to her. I’m taking Y/N home.”
You were still dizzy from the pain meds they gave you when Steve carried you inside his home. He’d shown up without a word, picked you up in bridal style, and driven you straight to his place, not your apartment.
You were out cold before he even got you to the bedroom, the pain meds and exhaustion taking a toll on you. Steve laid you on your stomach to shelter your injured leg and stripped you down to your panties.
He huffed and walked out of the room, leaving you alone to clear his head. Steve had no clue why he brought you to his home and hated it.
Hours later, Steve stood in the doorway watching you sleep soundly, unaware of his presence. His cock was already hard again. He didn’t have to remember the way your walls clung to him not hours ago to get in the mood.
Steve climbed onto the bed behind you, carefully shoved your legs apart, and lined up again. You were still slick from your encounter earlier. He pushed inside in one slow thrust, groaning when your body accepted his intrusion. He started fucking you in deep strokes, one hand braced on the headboard, the other gripping your hip hard.
“Fuck, look at you,” he muttered, voice low and raspy. “Even asleep, you take my cock like a perfect little slut. You wanted this so bad you let me ruin you. Now you’re mine to use whenever I feel the need.”
He reached under you and pinched your clit, toying with it until your body twitched and a soft moan left your throat. Steve pulled out and flipped you onto your back, parting your legs.
His mouth was on your cunt before you could even open your eyes. He licked and sucked, tongue pushing in and out, then flattening over your clit.
“Steve!”
Steve growled against your pussy. “If you are in my bed, this is what happens.”
He didn’t stop before your thighs clamped around his head and you squirted all over his beard.
Steve crawled up your body, shoved your knees to your chest, and pushed back inside you. His eyes locked on yours as he fucked you roughly.
“You’re mine, Y/N,” he said. “No going back to your sweet fantasies.”
Steve woke with a groan. He was still inside your sore cunt, and already half hard. “You little vixen,” he cussed, but didn’t move. Steve nipped at your shoulder before slipping out of you.
When you finally woke up, you felt like your whole body was sore. You whined but didn’t dare to be too loud. You slipped out of bed, hoping to leave Steve’s place with what was left of your dignity. If you had any at all.
Steve watched you limp inside the kitchen, wearing the dress shirt he carelessly dropped to the ground last night. He took away your clothes, giving you no choice but to wear his shirt.
“Sit down and eat,” he said without looking at you. You sat on one of the stools at the kitchen island, glancing at Steve. He slid a plate in front of you, then poured a glass of orange juice. For a minute, you forgot how he treated you last night. You took a bite, watching him move around the kitchen like a domestic dream.
Steve had already finished his own plate and set it in the sink. He silently watched you, his eyes raking over your body. Seeing you in his clothes woke something primal in him.
He crossed the kitchen, grabbed you by the waist, and lifted you onto the kitchen island. Your plate shattered on the ground, but he didn’t care. Steve shoved your thighs apart and stepped between them, painfully hard behind his sweats.
“You’re mine to use,” he said. You barely had time to drop the fork before he yanked the shirt up and pushed inside of you. He didn’t wait. He fucked you right there on the kitchen island.
“Shit, baby. You’re still so fucking tight,” he muttered under his breath. “Even after I used your hole all night.”
He pushed you down on the kitchen island, leaning over you, one hand braced beside your head, the other wrapping around your throat.
“You’re mine,” he said, eyes locked on yours. “No other man can fuck you from now on.”
Suddenly, he kissed you. It was unexpected and breathtaking. His mouth moved against yours, tongue claiming your mouth.
Much too soon, he pulled back, looking almost surprised. He huffed and buried his face in your neck. Steve fucked you harder, until you came with a choked-out moan, walls fluttering around him. He followed a few thrusts later, groaning as he came inside you.
For a moment, he breathed into your neck, holding himself deep inside your pulsing cunt. You were still shell-shocked from the kiss when he pulled out. Steve looked at you, brows furrowed.
“Clean yourself up. You need to get back to work,” he said. “And don’t get any ideas about that kiss. It was just the heat of the moment.”
He walked out of the kitchen like nothing had happened, leaving you on the kitchen island with his cum leaking out of you.
You tried to focus on work, not the soreness in your body or the images flashing up in your mind. The rough treatment. How Steve abandoned you behind the club. And then, the kiss. It was rough and dominating, but it felt like so much more.
Steve found you in the office later that day, staring at the stack of papers on your desk. You were focused on getting the work done when he closed the door behind him and locked it without a word.
“You need a break,” he said, a question not in his words. You rose to your feet, careful to shelter your injured leg.
He walked you backward until your ass hit the edge of his desk, then lifted you onto it. Steve stepped between your thighs and pushed your skirt up. His fingertips traced the inside of your leg, careful around the fresh bandage.
You watched him push his hand inside your panties to find you already wet. Or still wet. You didn’t know at that point. It felt like your body was always ready to take Steve since your first encounter behind the club.
“You wanted me. Only me,” he muttered, almost to himself. His free hand unzipped his fly, freeing his cock. “You’re mine now to use.”
He shoved your panties aside to push inside. Slower this time, to make you feel all of him. His forehead pressed against yours as he started to fuck you in long, slow strokes. The desk started to creak under your weight, and you feared people outside could hear your coupling.
“Fuck,” he cursed. “I’m getting used to this nice little hole.”
His hand slid up your back and pressed you closer to his body. His mouth claimed yours again, softer and slower this time.
“You’re mine,” Steve murmured against your lips. “Don’t think I won’t break you even more if you look at some other guy.”
It was almost closing time, and Steve was casually walking around the club, saying goodbye to a few regulars. He was about to find you and take you with him when he heard commotion near the bar.
“Let go of me! I’m with someone.” You sounded distressed when he followed the noise. Some drunk asshole had his hand wrapped around your wrist while you tried to twist away. Your voice grew louder, telling him to back off, but the man just laughed.
Steve moved faster than M’Baku or one of the other bouncers. He grabbed the man by the collar, yanked him back, and slammed him against the bar hard enough to break his nose.
“Hands off her. She’s mine,” Steve angrily growled. “You touch her again, and I’ll break every bone in your fucking body, not just your nose.”
He dropped the man to the ground, waiting for his bouncers to take care of the trash. His eyes were already on you and your trembling hands.
“Back. Now.”
Steve didn’t wait for you to calm down. He wrapped one arm around your waist, guiding you toward the back of the club.
Inside the office, he carefully lifted you onto the desk to look you all over, checking for injuries.
“Are you okay?” he asked, voice softer than usual.
You nodded, afraid your voice would tremble if you spoke. He searched your face for a second, then leaned in to press a soft kiss to your temple.
“That’s my fault,” he murmured. “That fucker thought he could touch you because I didn’t clarify you’re mine. No one else gets to touch you.”
You didn’t know if he meant what he said. Steve was like a raging storm coming over you. He destroyed you, only to pick you back up. You only knew you were his, and he wouldn’t let you go anytime soon…
