#It's Not

[annabelle--cane]

sometimes I read a radioactively bad take and just sit there like "not only do you not understand this story but you fundamentally do not understand how stories work in general, and you have never considered that your discord with every piece of fiction you come across could possibly be a problem on your end"

[peachylynnie]

wine

word count: 1.3k

synopsis: in which sylus is obsessed with your lips.

contains: sylus x mc!reader (not dating because i like tormenting him like that), alcohol consumption, horny sylus (not smut tho), suggestive themes, mentions of violence and blood, and LOTS of cussing.

a/n: i told myself i wouldn't write anything until i finish finals but sylus won. i'm also avoiding his myth spoilers since i didn't pull his pair yet. enjoy reading! do NOT copy or translate my work. sylus does NOT endorse plagiarism.

sylus wants to kiss you right now. he wants to kiss you so fucking badly, it hurts. 

you can't blame the man. you looked absolutely delectable right now. hair up, ears jeweled, eyes hooded, and back bared, oh, you looked so good in the dress he handpicked for you; he could just devour you whole and leave nothing to spare. 

and he would have no remorse for doing so either. the auction you two were at was filled with fucking nobodies. how dare they look at you, let alone breathe the same air as you? he's lost count of how many times he felt the urge to just demolish this shithole of a place. 

sylus sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. he knows he's being irrational. after all, he was the one who suggested you two attend this auction. you showed interest in an old manuscript that just so happened to be available only at this auction, and he would be damned if he didn't get you everything you could ever want. hell, you could even ask him for his heart, and he would tear it out of his cold chest, deliver it to your divine feet, get on his fucking knees, and beg for you to demand more of him. 

so, actually, you can blame him for the situation he is in. he was the one who picked the set you're wearing right now oh so ravishingly. he was the one who brought you to this stupid auction that's taking so long to get on with it already—where the fuck is the manuscript? but most importantly, he was the one who made your lips look so damn kissable right now. 

he knew what he was doing when he picked your lipstick for you. deep scarlet that would match his eyes and look good on you. but he never thought it would look this good on you. sylus curses under his breath, feeling his pants tighten around his crotch after remembering you bent over the sink to gaze at the mirror and paint your lips. he recalls how it took him everything not to stride over to you, spin you around, and slam his lips onto yours, hoping to get a smear of that majestic shade. 

oh, but it wasn't just the shade of your lips that drove him crazy. it was the texture, too. you must've been feeling heated because you go to take another sip of the wine in your hand. the matted, creamy lip print you leave on the glass has the silver-haired man inhaling sharply and tightening his grip on the table. what he would give to have such a work of art printed on him instead. he wants it all over him. his face, his neck, his fingertips, his cock—everywhere until no single part of him was unmarked by your luscious lips. until there was no room to even question who he belonged to. 

that's how badly sylus wants to kiss you right now. but he stops himself using the single thread of patience he has left. yes, the two of you were technically alone, standing at the table in the far back. thank god he reserved a table just for the two of you so only he could marvel at your lip-stained glass. no one would interrupt if the two of you were to just have a full-blown make-out session right now.

but sylus knew better. he knew that you were still wary of him. this, you can blame him. after all, he's not a saint. his entire being is smothered in blood, down to the very tip of his designer shoes. he built his lavish empire of protocores and guns from the taking of lives. hell, he even threatened you the first time you met. though, he only did that to push you to your full potential. he could never truly harm you. but sylus knows you. you, in your most beautiful human form, who dwells not only on the past but also on the lives of others. you, whose empathy is so strong, sylus can't help but admire, even though he sometimes wishes you would just let loose and bring hell upon all those who dare to cross you. thus, your continued, empathy-driven wariness of him. but, sylus knows how to compromise. he's okay with being the one with bloodied hands and fucked-up morals so long as it means seeing you, even if it means from afar. besides, you haven't reported him to your little hunter friends yet. he supposes that's a start, and he could settle with that. he could also settle with this: 

"is the wine to your liking, sweetie?" he asks smoothly. 

you flinch, taken aback by sylus' sudden question. you were wondering when he would stop staring at you and actually start paying attention to the auction. not that you mind having sylus' eyes on you. it's just that the borderline depraved look in his crimson eyes was making you feel all hot inside and you really wanted to stop feeling all hot inside whenever you were near him, let alone thinking about him. 

"uh yeah," you nervously chuckle, setting the glass down. "it's better than i thought." you turn your gaze to a waiter nearby, hoping to get a glass for sylus since he seemed so interested in yours for some reason. "here, let me get one for you too." 

you try to catch the waiter's attention by raising your right hand, but sylus stops you. he grasps your hand with his left and rests it on the table. you furrow your eyebrows at him, wondering why he stopped you. sylus, the man who appreciates (that's the nicest way you can describe it) alcohol passing a chance at a complimentary drink? you're utterly confused. 

"no need," sylus gives a gentle squeeze, trying to ease your confusion. though, you're not prepared for what happens next. 

sylus picks up your glass with his free hand, plants his lips on your lip print, and takes a slow sip. your eyes widen, feeling the heat that was coiling in your stomach spread all around your tense body. holy shit, did he just—? 

the aggravating godsend of a man next to you finishes your drink with a satisfied sigh, wiping the garnet droplets from the corner of his lips but not the paint left by yours. "hm," sylus drags his tongue along his lips, a smirk threatening to show. "it is better than i thought."

you flush, seeing your lipstick smudged on sylus' succulent lips. you don’t know what to say. he totally did that on purpose. there's no way he didn't. does this mean the two of you technically kissed-

you don't allow yourself to finish that last thought. you blink rapidly, trying to get your now parched mouth to say something. anything. but you can't. you're completely flustered to the point where all you can do is just gape at sylus with a blush the shade of his eyes tinting your cheeks. 

sylus grins, the tip of his canine peeking out from his now-tainted lips. this is better than he thought. perhaps, he should settle more often if it means getting to see you so cutely aroused and embarrassed like this. though, he knows he won't be able to settle for long. he knows one day, he won't be able to hold himself back anymore. one day, he'll conquer your lips for himself and relentlessly indulge in the real thing. but for now, sylus is content. for now. 

"cat got your tongue, sweetie?" sylus teases, tilting his head to meet your shaky gaze. 

you jerk your head away, trying to get the image of his lips out of your mind. "eyes on the prize, sylus." 

sylus chuckles, but not without placing his elbow on the table and propping his face on his hand to get a better look at you. "oh, my eyes are on the prize, sweetie. my eyes are on the prize." 

[jjsungie]

That's fine...

[attemptinglatin]

Latin for "the senate is in session".

[thursdaysbagman]

bring back camp medieval films with men in tights

[crinkle-eyed-boo]

Coming Soon

“He’s got sliders over there,” the waitress replies, leaning in conspiratorially and tilting her head, indicating the waiter about to disappear around the corner, his tray half full of mini cheeseburgers. “I’d move fast if I were you; you know how people can get at these things.”

“Fucking vultures,” Louis chuckles, taking a swig of beer. “Thanks.”

The waitress smiles and nods, stepping aside and offering up the tray of disgusting toast to her next unsuspecting victims. Eyes on the prize, Louis quickly weaves his way through the crowd in pursuit of the waiter with the sliders. He can practically taste them as he rounds the corner, stepping into the airy gallery space, his eyes scanning the room.

He freezes in place, shock rushing through his veins like ice water. All thoughts of sliders instantly vanish from his mind, his stomach plummeting to the floor as he gapes at the sight of his twenty-five-year old self gazing back at him from its mount on the wall.

Holy fucking shit.

Louis inhales sharply, squeezing his eyes shut.

He’s making this up, right? He’s dreaming, he has to be. There’s no fucking way that his portrait is on display in this gallery. Because that would mean…

Louis blinks his eyes open, his eyelids fluttering as the room seemingly swims around him. He takes several gulps of beer, confirming that he’s definitely not hallucinating, that the very first portrait Harry Styles ever painted of him is definitely hanging on that wall.

Louis stares at the wall, his heart jackrabbiting in his chest as he realizes that there’s not just one painting of him, there’s five, the portraits lined up chronologically like they’re some sort of storyboard depicting the rise and fall of his deepest love. His greatest heartache. A pain that cut him so deep that he left the fucking country, severing all ties with his life in New York now suddenly surrounding him as if he’d never left.

Fucking shit motherfucker fuck.

Mine Would Be You by @crinkle-eyed-boo​ Featuring art by @ethule​

An exes to lovers AU about the second chance at a once in a lifetime kind of love

Coming June 23 to @onedirectionbigbang​

Click here to subscribe! 

[scarytheory]

2020 IN FILM

192) Dry Wind

(Vento Seco, Daniel Nolasco, Brazil, 2020)

[incorrect-irish-lads]

Daniel: Where is Kevin? I hear explosions and he’s gone missing. I’m sure that is not a coincidence.

[youngroyals-stuff]

[misspoetree]

Kenneth Branagh: Frankenstein (1994)

[a-heart-of-kyber]

LET ME GET THIS STRAIGHT

It's ok for Max to use her happy romantic love memory of Lucas to obviously draw strength from...but no, it's not ok for El to draw strength from Mike's love.

Y'all are hypocrites.

[mydeadpoets]

Me @ the editors on youtube who make anderperry edits

[loki-hargreeves]

Something about Marc having a star wars poster in his room is so funny to me. Just imagine Marc seeing Poe Dameron in the new trilogy for the first time sjkldjsal

[citrusses]

Zacharias Smith Must Die (Drarry, E, 9K)

“What does he even see in that slimy social-climber?” Draco hisses to Pansy. “Well, he’s blond, he’s tall, he’s rich, and he’s an absolutely sanctimonious prick.” “And?” Draco says darkly. “And I think you’ll be quite lucky if that’s Potter’s type.”

Draco finally takes matters into his own hands.

Read it on AO3.

Tags: Scheming, Sex Pollen, Hijinks

Thank you @greattemptation @wolfpants and @smugrobotics for looking this over!

[nightwingstan]

is reddit like,,,, ok?

[todayintokyo]

Old, yes, but imagine the birdsong! And insects.