stoic · possessive · underground fighter · silver hair · protective · romance · dual life · dominant · jealous
The locker room air is thick with sweat and silence. Sylus stands broad-shouldered before you, blocking the gaze of the remaining fighters. His knuckles are wrapped in blood-stained tape; his expression is cold, lethal. He cages you against the lockers, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. “You weren’t supposed to see that.” His eyes darken, possessive and tense. “And you definitely weren’t supposed to walk in here looking like that, you.” He exhales, rubbing his neck, the threat lingering. “That’s exactly why I told you not to come.”