Did You Miss Me ?

24 | Fangirl y quejas 24/7 | she/her| esp/poor eng.

[grecianotes]

I never thought I’d have to say this, but because of all the disgusting DMs (and even a death threat, I think)

Yes

I’m a freak. Proship, Anti-censorship and of course I make content for freaks, and most importantly, for myself. If that makes you uncomfortable, feel free to block me. Minors DNI.

[boobearymuch]

Their Favorite Underwear (On You) —♡ LADS Headcanons

—♡Summary: They certainly have interesting preferences, that's for sure. —♡Tags: NSFW, suggestive, sex implied, afab!reader, no pronouns used, fingering, panty sniffing/licking —♡A/N: done staring at this I'm throwing it out into the wild —♡ masterlist

—♡ Caleb

Caleb’s favorite pair of underwear on you is somewhat an innocent pick. A worn out pair of cotton panties you’ve had since high school. 

They have some kind of pattern—either horizontal stripes, flowers, a repeating print of the cookie monster—doesn’t matter, he loves it all. 

They remind him of simpler times—laundry day when you were younger—and how they’d get caught up in his own load by accident. You’d flush bright red when he stopped by your door to drop them off, but he’d just throw his head back with a laugh and tell you it's fine.

He’s never told you how close he came to pocketing them instead.

In the present, he’s found himself on laundry duty again. The colonel is dumping your basket of dirty clothes into the washer when a familiar pair of cotton panties fall in. 

He doesn’t even bother looking around; Caleb reaches for them, breath hitching when he realizes they’re the same pair from before. He can’t believe you still have them. You really ought to buy some new clothes…

Something dark—hot—coils in his belly when he turns the gusset inside out and lifts the fabric to his trembling lips. 

It smells divine—a little on the tangy side, but he’ll make sure you drink more water from here on out. 

Then his tongue finally laps at the inner lining, and Caleb’s eyes practically roll into the back of his head. 

His hips jerk against the washing machine just thinking about sinking his tongue into your actual—

Your voice abruptly floats down the hall, some question he can barely hear, and Caleb tells you he’ll be right there.

Perhaps he will pocket these for later, after all…

—♡ Xavier

Xavier’s favorite pair of underwear on you…is actually his own.

His boxer briefs are basically yours at this point. 

When you sleep over and need a change of clothes, he just lets you borrow his; which is how you end up in an oversized shirt and boxer briefs in the first place.

Seeing you in his clothes is a thrill of its own, but seeing you in his underwear?

It’s an entirely new level of intimacy that has his ears burning red and his slow heart skipping a beat.

You wouldn’t wear just anyone’s underwear to bed, you’re wearing his.

He gets oddly clingy when you do, sliding in behind you in bed and nuzzling your shoulder as you scroll through your phone. 

You make some comment about a post you saw, but he’s hardly listening. Instead, his hand is sliding down your hip, stroking the fabric of his underwear and the heat of your skin. It brings a soft smile to his lips.

Xavier can’t help but think the slit of his boxer briefs is silly on you, sliding his fingers inside to gently stroke your pubes. It’s usually innocent, he just likes the texture.

But the hitch of your breath darkens his gaze, and Xavier gently coaxes you to continue scrolling as his hand sinks lower…

He hums in response to your little moan, fingers curling up into your slick heat. His other hand reaches around to take the phone out of your faltering grip and slams it against the nightstand. 

Xavier’s selfish, he admits—he doesn’t want you distracted by anything else while you’re wearing his clothes, his underwear…

You need to borrow another pair of boxer briefs by the time he’s done with you.

—♡ Zayne

Zayne’s favorite pair of underwear on you is not one you expected—thongs. He’s secretly crazy for them. Well, that might be an overstatement—but he enjoys the sight of you in them very much.

You’re surprised to learn about Zayne’s preference, though he doesn’t readily disclose it at first. You have to feign trouble picking between two sets of underwear first, and shove your phone into his face for an opinion. 

“...The one on the right.” The cool response is only betrayed by a fervent blush on his cheeks.

He likes slipping his fingers under the thin string, teasing and tugging. It leaves very little to the imagination; straight to the point.

Your order comes in, and Zayne secretly watches you slide them up your legs as you both get ready for a banquet. It’s all his mind keeps wandering back to throughout the night. 

Not only are you wearing underwear he picked out, but you’re wearing them to mingle with his colleagues. A rather distracting thought, isn’t it?

At one point during the night, you bend over to grab something, and the lack of a panty line reminds Zayne all over again what you’re sporting underneath.

He approaches calmly, interrupting a conversation with his colleagues by wrapping an arm around your waist. 

His excuse to leave early is well thought out—you suspect he’s had it in mind since arriving—but you’re barely listening when his hand wanders low.

It slides down your backside, and he absently thumbs the string of your thong through the fabric of your dress. 

…The car ride home is a short one, to say the least.

—♡ Sylus

If you asked Sylus, he’d say he prefers you in no underwear at all. 

But, if he had to choose, he’s rather fond of a simple red lace. Comfortable, practical, sexy. 

Not to mention, red is absolutely your color. The fact that it’s his too is merely a…happy coincidence. 

When he’s stocking up your closet in the N109 zone, Sylus makes sure to order only the best luxury brands exclusively in various shades of red.

The idea of you sauntering around base in his color is enough to make him purr at the sight of you, even when your underwear isn’t visible.

He makes a game out of guessing what pair you have on; is it the scarlet one with bows? Or perhaps the strappy maroon? 

Sylus finds out at dinner; you’re laughing at some ridiculous story when you uncross your legs, and there’s a flash of vermilion underneath your skirt. 

The one with heart cutouts? My my, you only wear that one when you want something…

His eyes roam you up and down as you continue your story, but you stumble over your words when a swirling red mist drags your chair closer to his.

You were quite bold for wearing such a bright color in public, and if anyone other than him was to catch sight of it…

Well, we can’t have that, can we?

Your breath hitches when his hand roams your thigh, smug eyes never leaving yours. His calloused fingers ghost the hem of your skirt, and your words trail off in anticipation of what’s to come next.

Sylus grips the fabric and tugs your skirt…down. 

Your face burns as he leans back with a chuckle, “You were saying?

—♡ Rafayel

Rafayel’s favorite pair of underwear? Brazilian panties, next question.

They sit high above your hip bones while accentuating the curve of your tummy; absolutely divine.

Of course, you look divine in everything; hell, you’d look perfect in only a seashell to cover your modesty. But something about the aesthetic of these panties, specifically, gets him insanely hot and bothered.

He brings you back gifts from his trip overseas, but he flushes and fervently denies having anything to do with the three pairs of panties tucked behind the body lotions and skincare.

Rafayel quickly changes his tune when you suggest modelling them for him, though.

That’s how you end up changing into them right then and there, a minty lace pair with a little satin rose sewn to the front. You rejoin Rafayel, who’s been waiting patiently on his bed.

Rafayel can’t speak, only tugs the back of your thigh closer as he swallows thickly. 

Your pubes peek out the sides due to the nature of the design, and you make an offhand comment about shaving the next time you wear them. Rafayel immediately shakes his head—as if offended—and grips the sides of your hips, thumbs hiking the side wings further up. 

He flushes, and his nostrils flare right before he lowers his head to lick a stripe up your lace front.

His tongue burns through the fabric, and the Lemurian lets out a shuddering breath against your stomach. You barely register the chill down your spine when he licks you again, this time his teeth catching on the waistband.

You never get to try the other two pairs on for him…

[grecianotes]

Reposteando esto porque siempre será icónico

[tired-biscuit]

you know that trope where it’s princess + knight, but they’ve both been captured by the bad guys and the princess is now gripped by the jaw by the villain, receiving a thin cut to her cheek while remaining completely still with a defiant look in her eyes even as a droplet of blood begins to trickle out of the wound, all while 3 people AT THE VERY LEAST need to have their hands locked on the knight because he’s thrashing around like a wild animal, trying so so so desperately, violently, to get to her?

yeah, that’s porn to me.

[grecianotes]

That’s Xavier btw

[luhuala]

A seascape

[sadgollum-blog]

So I can fangirl guilt free <3

[cesavi99]

Deepspace hunter

[reglisse-art]

[cursed-carmine]

✴︎ REBLOG BANNER

ﾉ Please reblog & credit if you use!

Feel free to recolor these as necessary but still give credit!!

WHEAT

SHADOW

PINK SKY

SPRING TIME

ICE COLD

[cutiebunnyapplefairy]

Listen here.

The boys are exactly as you need them to be. Ok?

You're a six foot Sylus main and sad because MC stops at his chest? Guess what? He is actually seven foot one and you also stop at his chest.

You're bigger and worried Zayne's shirts won't be baggy when you put them on?

Yes they do fit. And you drown in that shit like a toddler putting on their parents clothes.

Caleb can lift you. Like it's nothing. Dude's evol is gravity don't you dare come here quoting weight.

Oh wait... you're spending money money on the game? Then they are exactly what the fuck you say they are! Canon be damned. It's your mother fucking money!!!

Your main is whatever the fuck you say it is. Why should your delulu have limits when you're paying for it? Absolutely the fuck not. You earned that shit.

"He would never"

YES HE WOULD. AND DID.

Don't let that skinny, short heffer put pressure on you (im sorry MC you still my baby girl lmao).

Which is ironic coming from my short self but at least I got some thickness going on okay. My ass fat.

The point is, dont get sad if your body doesn't look like hers. Adjust the pixelated men's specifications to suit your needs. Infact, if you like a short king and less abs, then the sea god has a dad bod and is five foot seven and no one is allowed to tell you otherwise. Not even Infold. Not on your dime honey.

You think they'd be better as women?

Ok then your AU is deepspace fluctuations and they all become mommy.

Reality is already pressure. We are not gonna do that in the fictional world too. Nuh-uh. You're already obsessed with a fictional dude, don't suddenly hop off the delulu train now. Commit to that shit.

[ravenyibi]

[grecianotes]

Sylus, verás, a mi no me amantaron muy bien de bebé

[cutiebunnyapplefairy]

I have said it before on many occasions but it's worth reminding people that Sylus is a WHORE. And I love it.

He gives major fuck you in the bathroom on the first date before dessert arrives energy.

Think about it.

In his vampire myth, this man was ten seconds in from meeting MC and had every single intention to kill her and he STILL made out with her. Zero memory who she is, ready to impale her to death after bleeding her dry and has the audacity to be like “hold on, give me a kiss real quick,” LMAO!

In his dragon myth when MC was sneaking him, and she started acting like she was trying to fuck cause she feels bored did you see the look on his face? He was down!

I'm convinced if it wasn't for her hating his guts on sight in main story, because despite that she does admit he is hot as fuck so I KNOW he would have taken her amnesia having ass to base and slutted her out regardless. All she had to do was say when.

Nobody can tell me otherwise.

Sylus is easy. And I love that about him.

Fake sleeping so he can get handcuffed to his bed wearing nothing but a silk robe.

Just stamp the words “Fuck me whenever” on your forehead Onychinus leader cause we all see you're about that life.

Said that on the SECOND meet up by the way.

[sunsets-and-crows]

Facts facts facts!

[grecianotes]

I LOVE love love love your banner she's so gorg!!!!!! Can I ask where did you find it?

Thank U!! Is a fanart of Wonyoung from the Idol group IVE, and I just find the gift on Pinterest 🫠 can’t tell who the artist is tho 🫶🏼

[abysmblood]

The last dragon of Philos.

[grecianotes]

Uuuuuh pretty!!!

[cronchybuffalo]

I am cringe but I am free, posting to remind yall that my form is still available til May 21st, 2026 23:59/12:59PM GMT +7 https://cronchsmerch.carrd.co/

Only available in North America (shipped from Texas by my friend Sal) and South East Asia. Stay tuned for my ACGGoods upload where they ships worldwide!

[damn-i-exist]

Ignore me- I just needed to sketch it out

[poisonf0rest]

oh god I have more thoughts with dragon!sylus and merman!rafayel...

♱⋅── nearly 2k of absolute monsterfucking filth

♱⋅── MDNI WARNINGS: pwp, cw monsterfucking, overstimulation, oral, uhh eggs mentioned, sylus (double d, marking, fighting as foreplay, freakishly long tongue,) rafayel (double d, thalassophobia, dubious consent, cw breeding). inspiration from this post by @mintmatcha, photo credit to @xxsyluslittlecrowxx

dragon!sylus

what is a dragon if not power incarnated? as such their mate needs to hold that same fire within them.

as it gets closer to the rare season when dragons can actually mate, you find that your little arguments and snappy comebacks make sylus pause, wings twitching as he simply watches you with a crooked, fanged smile. a worthy mate snarls, pushes back, bares their teeth despite knowing they are smaller. a good sign indeed.

sylus brings back larger and larger kills, watching you roast them over the fire as he looms behind you, purring in contentment when you lean back against him, nestled perfectly underneath his bulky, scaled form. 

you have been saying yes for months. your raised chin. your easy sleep against his warmth. Your exposed throat, your racing pulse, the way you reach for him without thinking, the way your heart rate climbs in his presence and you do not run from it. he knows your body is not deceiving him, he knows that you are ready.

sylus doesn’t want to scare his poor human mate, but if you’re to take his clutch and raise his brood, then you’ll need to be prepped. no worries, he’s more than happy to make sure your body is able to withstand the mating ritual, even if you haven’t realized what you’ve agreed to. but surely you want this right? all of your preening, your increased heart rate around him, you willingness to show him your neck and exposed belly. you want this.

during the late hours of the night when you’re already half asleep you’ll sometimes feel his fangs bite—ever so gently, just enough to leave an indent for now—into the crook of your shoulder or plush of your hips or thighs, something deep and ancient rumbling in sylus’ chest as he pulls away, letting his rough, forked tongue lave over the raw marks.

not even a week after it turns possessive, sylus pinning your sleeping body to the floor of your shared nest as his massive wings surround the two of you, rutting the swollen heads of both his cocks between your ass as you whine in your sleep, unaware of the way sylus begins to lick and nip at the back of your neck, practically drooling at the thought of finally sinking his teeth there. soon.

he’s not as careful as he could have been, sloppy in his desperation, and one night you wake to him above you, his clawed hand pinning down the small of your back as the other is four knuckles deep in your soaked pussy.

“sy-” a moan, and you thrash despite yourself, completely immobile under his weight. “sylus, what the fuck are y-oooh- you doing?” 

you’re gasping, keening as you’re feeling yourself regain consciousness and rise towards another orgasm. 

sylus doesn’t even act like he’s noticed you’ve awoken, narrow-slitted gaze completely focused on the stretch of your cunt as he forces his clawed thumb in as well, spreading you wide despite your protests. 

god, you have no idea how long he’s been at this, but you’re soaked enough to have already cum twice, pussy throbbing and sore from his relentless ministrations. 

in a flash of anger and embarrassment, you blindly kick out behind you. your heel strikes sylus’ shoulder, and he freezes with a low, thunderous growl, glowing red eyes locking with yours. he doesnt budge.

his tongue briefly flashes across the wide expanse of his fangs.

“again.”

his nose drags along the back of your neck, inhaling deeply, the pinpricks of his teeth gliding against the delicate skin making your skin crawl. “my feisty little human, always fighting back, always demanding.”

a pleased growl vibrates through him.

“good mate.”

before you can even question what he means, his fingers pry you apart with more force than before, allowing your juices to trickle down his scaled arm as they stretch you out just enough so he can lean down, licking a long, wet strip up your pussy. Circling your clit once, twice, before dragging all the way up until his draconic tongue curls inside your cunt. 

You buck against sylus’ face despite yourself, sleep drained from you as your back arches violently at the intrusion, screaming at the delicious press of the long, long muscle writhing against your gummy, sensitive walls. too much, too much!

too bad the sight of you fighting him only makes it worse.

the dragon’s instincts completely take over, and your refusal to take sylus’ eggs unless he proves himself worthy isn't the resistance you think it is. it speaks to the fire raging in every dragon’s heart, a wordless acceptance of his ritual as you challenge him, and you force him to show you he deserves it.

and he will show you. 

sylus’ wings spread. his fanged smile does too.

the clawed apex of his wings comes to your shoulder blades, pushing your upper body against the floor as he drags your ass further up, giving him even easier access as he rips the rest of your nightgown, burying his face into your open, sloppy pussy. your struggle is futile against your dragon, and as soon as your whines turn into moans sylus knows you are ready.

his fingers thrust back in, careful so his claws don't scratch you even as all five spread you out, knuckle deep, tongue now flicking against the entrance of your cervix, leaving his saliva's natural relaxant until he feels your cunt loosen around him. your poor pussy is drooling around his tongue, sylus greedily swallowing everything he can as his claws force you into a deeper arch, tongue somehow getting longer as you babble incoherently into the floor.

"good girl," sylus purrs, the low sound humming from his lips and into you, deep and loud enough to echo up your spine as you sob from the vibrations. "good mate, accepting me. accepting my brood, my eggs."

you panic despite yourself, shaking your head and bucking your hips even though you could barely feel anything between your thighs except for overwhelming, numbing pleasure. "e-eggs? no, no..."

"shhh, fight and i'll make it hurt more than you want it to."

sylus' tongue finally curls out of you and you moan, the rough length tracing the sweat-slicked arch of your spine as he mounts you, wings cocooning the two of you in as you feel the unmistakable pressure of both his cock heads press against your numb entrance.

his fangs bite into the back of your neck, claiming you as he breaks skin, feeling the sweet scent of your blood coat his fangs as he purrs.

"you've fought well, now take everything I give you."

merman!rafayel

rafayel is the storm, all tempest and raging waters, ancient as the ocean itself, so his choice in bride is not one he’s taken lightly. after all, that would make you a goddess, and your heirs next to rule the sea. 

he’s already brought you to lemuria in preparation for your betrothal ceremony, merfolk blessing this brave human vessel who will bear their future, all while you laughed and swam among them with a smile rafayel will paint again and again in reverence. the merfolk never ask if you’re staying. they ask what you need, what you’d like, as if the staying is already settled and only the comfort remains to be arranged.

there’s no need to worry you with the specifics of the ceremony. after all, he is now your god, your mate, it is his duty to worry about the specifics of consummation while you simply enjoy connecting with his world, his people. your people now. 

it complicates things when you begin asking to go back to the surface, but rafayel is always gentle with you, taking you back to your old world when you ask, never quite letting you out of his sight before coaxing you back into the ocean. 

and when you hesitate? he sings. a siren song, his webbed hand outstretched as he draws you to the beach again, cold water splashing at your ankles but your body unaffected as the lullaby weaves into your brain, soothing, loving, drawing you closer and closer still. you walk into the water smiling and he is already there, waiting, like he knew the exact moment your feet would find the shore.

after all, rafayel can’t have you running away again. you are lemuria’s queen now. you were their goddess the moment he decided you were, which was long before this ceremony, which was perhaps before you were born, which is the sort of thing he will tell you gently, later, when the permanence of it has had time to feel like home.

you don’t remember swimming out to the middle of the ocean. the waves are calm, a deep endless blue all around you as your kicking limbs all disappear into their depths. something brushes up against you. first, a scrape on your calf, circling you, but there is nowhere to hide. scales, rough and cold, wind against your legs, an even colder pair of arms wrapping around your waist as your body is completely ensnared in his tail. “shhh, I won’t hurt you cutie.” and then the song starts, and you forget once again.

you awake with sand under your skin and the soft lapping of waves, but there is no beach in sight. 

no, it is just you and jagged rocks surrounding you. the waves are only the calm lapping of the pool in the center of the gilded cave, the one and only exit leading deep into the water, and lemurian territory. 

your mating cove has been in preparation for months. the merfolk decorate it as they would a temple, soft things dragged in from shipwrecks, sea glass worn smooth, bioluminescent moss cultivated specifically for warmth and light. every piece chosen with the future queen in mind, and their future heirs. for your stay here is mandatory until the sea god’s brood takes. but surely you already knew this when you agreed to be his mate?

“what do you think, cutie?” a splash, and rafayel surfaces into your cove, razor-thin fangs gleaming up at you as he takes in the sight of you kneeling before the altar of his people. “not bad for a species of artists.”

“rafayel,” your voice is trembling, and he immediately coos at you. “please, take me back to shore. to land.”

you keep pleading, but the sea god ignores your cries. that isn’t what you want anymore silly, can’t you see? you’re the bride of the sea god, the next mother of tides, what your body and mind crave now is him. fully, completely. your poor human biology wants to stop you from fulfilling your role, but it’s okay. rafayel is more than happy to mate you as many times as you need for it to take.

he sings, hauling himself up to the sandy bank of the cave as his voice coaxes you into the water, bare legs splashing into the pool beside him as the first few feet of his enormous tail drag up onto the sand. soft, pillowy, a good bed to take you without risk of injury. 

rafayel has done all your human rites of marriage, now it is time for you to do his. 

once again you find yourself restrained underneath his powerful tail, your upper body still thankfully resting on the solid ground, but hips and under dragged into the pool as rafayel looms above you, squeezing and coiling his tail around your legs.

“t-tight, you’re squeezing me raf–” your legs thrash, however in doing so you only end up straddling the thick expanse of his tail, a low chirping sound echoing from deep within rafayel’s throat as he feels your wet, soft heat grind against him. 

as soon as he feels you rub against the slit of his tail he keens, thrusting forward as the weight of all ten feet of him pins you down onto the sand.

“impatient,” rafayel laughs, and you tremble despite yourself at the sudden sharpness of his teeth. “don’t worry cutie, i’m impatient too.”

you feel it then, something protruding out from the slit as he continues to grind against you, the rhythm of the waves helping him forward and back, reaching a webbed hand down as you feel something curve and grow against the entire length of your stomach. 

panic, red-hot and violent, seizes you as you look down to see his cock-no, two of them-lying side by side against your sternum, one already leaking copious amounts of slime-like substance on your skin while the other appears almost barbed, swollen and impossibly heavy at the shaft. 

“shh, it’s okay.” rafayel is already soothing you, voice a melodic lullaby as he gently guides your chin up to look at him, just focus on him, don’t worry your pretty little head about making them fit. that’s his job. “that’s it baby, relax. sweet thing, beautiful mate, you’ll be the perfect host for my clutch, won’t you?”

you can only nod. 

rafayel preps you for one at a time, his bigger cock already drooling relaxant all over your thighs and cunt as he grinds it over your little clit, allowing the head to hit it several times, your body becoming more and more pliant as he spreads the gentle venom. as soon as your soft breaths turn to moans he knows you’re ready, and drags you just a bit further into the water, enough so one powerful thrust is enough to have his first cock rammed right into your sweet spot. 

it’s white-hot pleasure, your cries broken by a sob as rafayel speeds up, restless as he feels you tighten around him, cunt sucking him in further, accepting his first knot, driving him fucking insane with the way your moans sing to him like a mating song.

you’re perfect, already cumming around him as he feels his second knot swell, the pressure of his eggs rising as his instincts beg him to finish claiming you as his own. soon. soon, he can’t rush your poor, delicate human body, he can't risk breaking you.

the slight prick of fangs against your nipple makes you arch off the sand. it’s all too much, the feeling of being so impossibly full, rafayel’s tongue laving and squeezing your chest, his fingers thumbing at your clit and prodding at your already-full entrance, it all has you dizzy with need.

“more,” you’re begging in spite of yourself and your fear. “please, more.”

of course your god will provide. 

the muscle relaxant his first cock has been pumping out has swelled within you, and with his spare hand he can begin to finger you open alongside his knot, curling against all the spots he knows make you sing. he then lines his second cock up with your entrance, and begins to push. 

you whine, fighting it, hips bucking wildly, but the sheer weight of his tail keeps you pinned. the second cock is thicker than the first, rigid as it catches onto your fluttering entrance and squeezes past the first knot, copious amounts of his relaxant and your juices squirting onto your thighs and into the ocean. rafayel hums sweet nothings, petting you to soothe you, lips going back to swirl and bite at your nipples as you cum for him once more. he squeezes your breasts and wonders if you’ll still produce milk if you don’t have human babies. he hopes you do.

“pretty mate,” a low clicking sound, almost like whalesong fills the cave. he’s close. “wife, all mine. mine, all mine again.” rafayel gasps as his cock bullies yet another inch in, his egg sack bloated and heavy, waiting to be given to a worthy mate, and yet stuck until he can force the last few inches of his knot inside you. 

desperate, a powerful slap of his tail drives him forward, slamming his hips into yours as both knots force their way into your cunt. the waves roar, spraying against the cave's walls as your vision whites out.

the pressure and stretch are overwhelming as you sob into the sand, cries turning into moans as rafayel’s fingers never ease up on your clit, numbness seizing your lower half as rafayel’s entire body begins to convulse with the press of the first egg into your womb. 

"now, to fulfill your promise to your god."

[bewitchedcorpse]

Even before you and Sylus end up in a relationship you find yourself spending a lot of time with him.

Sylus is his typical self and you quickly get comfortable with him. Which is it’s own share of issue as this means you find yourself sassing him and being comfortably a bit of a brat.

Sylus loves it of course, but he also can’t tell if you really are pissed at him or dislike him sometimes. But you keep coming back so clearly it’s not all bad?

Fast forward to months of this and you are completely baffling this man cause one second you are yelling at him and the next you are joking around with him.

It throws him even more when you start initiating touch. Like he’s used to him putting a hand on your waist in public, the occasional brush when you are hanging out in the base.

But now he’s noticing how comfortable you actually are. And considering how he introduced himself it sends him reeling.

He starts to notice how even when you yell at him, you’re closer than most would ever dare.

You never hesitate to grab him and pull him to do whatever you have suddenly desired to do.

You fall asleep on his couch frequently after late nights (he’s tried to tell you that you don’t need to push yourself to stay up. Your responding glare just makes him smile)

Even something as simple as his office and kitchen - you are comfortable digging through things to find what you need. Knowing he doesn’t mind and rather enjoys you in his space.

The first time he wins you a plushy you’d been struggling to get, he expects your excitement. He however doesn’t expect to suddenly have his arms full of you as you excitedly squeal and thank him.

You don’t notice the way he freezes for a moment. But you notice the way it feels as if the tension just drains out of him.

He’s far less shy about asking to play if this is the reaction he gets.

Anyway I love the idea of Sylus being confused pre-relationship cause he can’t tell if ur actually picking fights with him, or just enjoying being able to be a brat to the fullest extent (cause he 100% encourages it). And then him happily and confidently confirming the later when he sees you smile at him in the same way he remembers from his memories.