Annie Wang

sylus walks over. he’s in a silk night shirt, sleep evident on his face. he stops right between your thighs, crowding your space completely. he does not say a word. he just reaches out and wraps his hand around your bare ankle, his touch instantly melting the chill on your skin.

“can’t sleep?” he asks, voice a low rumble.

“my brain won’t shut up,” you whisper, voice small and tired.

sylus lets out a soft breathy sigh. he steps even closer, until his sides are pressed up against your knees. he reaches up and grabs you by the waist, his strong fingers effortlessly lifting you off the counter. you let out a tiny gasp, hands flying out to grip his broad shoulders.

instead of putting you on the floor, sylus just holds you up against him. your feet are completely off the ground. he wraps his massive arms around your back, burying his face into your neck. your heart does a sudden flip. you wrap your legs tightly around his waist to keep from falling.

“sylus,” you say, face flushed. “i didn’t say you could kidnap me off the counter.”

“you’re in my house, sweetie” he mutters against your skin, a smile evident. “everything here belongs to me.”

you smack his chest. he only hums. but sylus keeps holding you against him. he presses a slow and warm kiss under your ear. his soft silver hair tickles your jaw and his warmm breath makes a sweet shiver run down your spine.

and you do it. you relax completely, leaning your forehead against his temple, fingers tangling in his soft hair, melting against him. he’s so big, so solid, so incredibly warm and absolutely yours.

sylus lets out a low happy chuckle against your neck when he feels you give in. he shifts his head, nose brushing a slow, lazy path up your jawline until his lips are resting against the corner of your mouth. he holds you tighter, grip filled with affection and fondness.

You should've known Zayne wouldn't take too kindly to your coworker flirting with you very openly at a work event. You hadn't thought much of it when he cornered you by the bar, trying to get your number. After politely declining, you'd returned to your boyfriend with his sparkling water in hand. You hadn't noticed the tightness in his jaw.

But you do now.

"S-someone could hear us!" You whisper quickly as Zayne locks the storage closet door, pressing you up against it.

"I suppose we'll have to be extra quiet then, hm?" His words are mumbled against your lips. You're suddenly both regretful and grateful that you wore a skirt today, as Zayne bunches it around your hips, pushing your underwear to the side.

"Is this for me?" He whispers between dizzying kisses. You nod quickly, already feeling an aching need between your legs. He sinks two lithe fingers into your wetness, pumping them slowly.

"F-for you." You gasp quietly, trying to keep your voice down. But that goes right out the window when he replaces his fingers with his cock, pushing into you slowly. You bite your fist to keep quiet, eyes rolling back as he starts to fuck you steadily.

"Does it feel good?" He asks, lips brushing your ear as he kisses the skin underneath in a way that's sure to leave a mark. Your nails dig into his arm, barely able to keep yourself upright as his pace quickens.

"Y-yeah yeah it-fuck-it feels so good Zayne." You moan softly, burying your face in the crook of his neck to muffle the sounds that escape you involunatrily.

"Good. Remember, only I can make you feel this good." You barely have time to process his words before his thumb finds your clit, circling quickly. Your orgasm hits quickly, pleasure shooting through your whole body. Zayne cums at the same time, burying his cock in you as he bites your shoulder to keep himself silent.

You find out pretty early in the relationship that if you mess with him, he’s going to mess with you right back(tenfold)

It starts small.

You’re sitting on the couch together when you reach up and rub his head affectionately, fingers threading through his silver hair. “Soft today,” you tease.

Without missing a beat, the second you lower your hand he reaches over and pats the top of your head like he would with a cat. “Even softer,” he murmurs, smug look on his face.

You narrow your eyes. He just arches a brow like he’s daring you to continue.

So you do.

Later that evening you walk past him in the kitchen while he’s pouring a drink. On impulse you reach out and grab his waist, giving it a quick squeeze as you go by.

Two hours later you’re standing in the same spot, reaching for a glass, when Sylus strolls past you. His arm snakes around your waist and squeezes, harder, fingers digging in just enough to make you squeak.

“Fair’s fair, sweetie,” he says smoothly, not even breaking stride.

You start keeping score after that.

One lazy afternoon you can’t resist. He’s standing there in a fitted black shirt, looking unfairly good, so you slide your hands up his chest and give his pecs a firm, appreciative squeeze.

He doesn’t react immediately. Just looks down at you with that dangerous little smile.

But the next morning when you’re stretching in front of the mirror in nothing but one of his shirts, he appears behind you. His hands come up without warning, cupping your boobs fully, thumbs brushing over your nipples through the fabric.

“These are much better,” he says casually, giving them a gentle but possessive squeeze before letting go. “Carry on.”

Your mouth drops open. He just walks away like he didn’t just feel you up in broad daylight.

It keeps going.

You’re feeling bold one night after an outing. As he walks past you toward the bedroom you reach out and lightly slap his ass; quick, playful, barely any sting.

Sylus stops. Turns his head slowly. He raises an eyebrow, the corners of his mouth turning upwards.

You think you’ve won.

You haven’t.

Later, when you’re bent over grabbing something from the bottom drawer, he walks up behind you. One big hand grabs a full handful of your ass, squeezing hard, before he brings his palm down in a sharp, resounding spank that makes you jolt forward with a surprised yelp.

“Ow- Sylus!”

He leans down, lips brushing your ear as his hand soothes over the spot he just smacked.

“You started it, kitten,” he purrs, voice low and amused. “I’m simply finishing it. And I always finish stronger.”

You rub your stinging cheek, face burning, but you’re also grinning like an idiot.

Because that’s just how it is with him.

And the worst (best) part?

He always waits for the perfect moment. Never does it immediately. He lets you think you got away with it… then strikes when you least expect it, settling the score with interest.

You’ve learned your lesson by now.

But you still can’t stop yourself from lightly slapping his ass again the very next day.

Because let’s be honest: you like losing this game.

And Sylus?

Nothing’s different, and yet, something is different.

Immediately, you’re on guard. You don’t flick the lights on yet, carefully creeping inside, glancing around as much as you can. The living room is clear, so you make your way down the hallway.

When you peak into your bedroom, you’re still confused.

There’s someone in your bed.

The myriad of questions floating around your brain are quickly solved when the large body shifts, and you see a flash of very familiar blonde hair.

“Sylus?” You flick the light on, awakening him. He's curled up under your blankets, clutching your grumpy crow plushie to his chest. Even more peculiar is the fact he's wearing the sweater of his you'd stolen months ago, and slept in so often it was practically yours.

So often that you're sure it smells like you.

"Hi sweetie." He murmurs, as if it's totally normal for him to randomly be sleeping in your bed.

You flick the lights back off, stripping off your work clothes and changing into something more comfortable before walking over to the side of the bed, resting a hand on his forehead.

"Are you feeling alright?" You ask quietly. But instead of responding, he grasps your wrist and pulls you into bed, cuddling up to you.

rosy hues (close up bc the low quality of sm🥲)

"You've already used your favorite wine glass. You're not going to taste it?"

"Good girl."