#pearlwrites☆

[pearlymel]

Absolute Zeal

Sum. It was finally your turn to take care of your boyfriend, until everything twists around and you both end up a mess.

Warnings. NSFW, smut, fem reader, whiney zayne yes, unprotected sex, rough sex kinda, fluff. 2.2k words.

Notes. my exams are not stopping me (yet) from releasing yet another feral zayne.

Your boyfriend was absolutely out of it.

It wasn't long before Zayne noticed the effects of the chocolate, a slow warmth coursing through his veins, a slight sluggishness creeping into his movements.

He grinned lazily at you as you helped him outside, a slight wobble to his step. You were struggling, sure. But you kept up the tough act.

The cool air outside seemed to help clear his head a bit, but he was still far from sober, "my hero," he said, his voice still slightly slurred, "taking me home in my... slightly tipsy state. You're too kind.”

“Mhm, careful as you get in.” you instruct and Zayne obliges as he stumbled into the taxi, slumping against the back seat, trying to steady himself.

His gaze remained fixed on you as you climbed into the taxi after him. His eyes roamed over your face, “thank you," he murmured, "for taking care of me tonight.”

A hand smoothens to his cheek, up to his hair to comb it with your fingers before you tilt your head to peck his cheek, your hand encouraging him to rest on your shoulder.

He closed his eyes, a contented sigh escaping him, feeling safe and cared for in your presence.

…

“wake up, honey.” you whisper into Zayne's ear to wake him up from his light slumber. His eyes blinking slowly to get back to his senses.

He leaned against you heavily, allowing you to guide him out of the taxi, a quiet murmur of thanks escaping him.

The taxi driver watched the whole interaction silently after you payed him. ah, the young. "I miss my wife." He sighed to himself before driving off.

Meanwhile, you were pitifully watching Zayne entering the wrong passcode to his own home.

His fingers fumbled against the keypad as he tried to input his passcode, his normally steady hands betraying his current inebriated state. He let out a frustrated grunt, his brows furrowing in concentration as he tried again.

"Just... need to get this thing right..."

"Let the person who actually remembers the passcode of your home to enter it." you successfully entered the passcode, the lock clicking open with a satisfying sound.

Zayne let himself be led onto the plush couch by you after taking off his coat for more movement, a deep sigh escaping him as though he were sinking into heaven itself.

He let his eyes close briefly, revelling in the comfort of the soft cushions. He cracked one eye open lazily, a soft chuckle escaping him as he watched you fuss over his coat, gently removing it and draping it on the back of a nearby chair.

And with a gentle tug, he pulled you down onto the couch with him, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you close.

You frown, “i should go get the hangover medicine—”

But his arm tightened around your waist in protest, pulling you closer to him before you could move. "No need," he shook his head, his voice huskier now. "Stay with me," he whispered, his voice low, filled with a yearning that went beyond simple physical attraction.

"After i get the medicine, hm? You'll regret it later," though he seemed too insistent. You couldn't budge, even when he was drunk, his strength was impressive.

Zayne groaned softly, his grip on you unrelenting. He rested his head on your shoulder, his face nuzzling against your neck, "later,"

"how much more?" you ask, your fingers tracing his jawline to sort of soothe him.

He drew in a slow, steady breath, his body relaxing against you. "Just a moment more like this."

Zayne leaned into your touch, his head slightly tilting as though seeking more of your caress. His arm around your waist remained securely wrapped, holding you close, holding you like you were a precious treasure, something to be cherished.

You continue caressing his skin, moving down to his messed up buttons and tie, making him flutter his eyes shut.

Despite the alcohol, a part of him was still very much aware, very much receptive to your touch. The way you undressed him, unbuttoning his shirt to help him breathe better, felt like a gentle, loving caress.

This is no good. “On a second thought, I'll just shower," he said, attempting to smooth out his disheveled hair. "A shower will help clear my head.” Zayne stood up after taking his arms away from your body, a bit unsteady on his feet, but adamant to make it to the shower on his own. He staggered slightly, leaning against the nearest wall for support.

…

You head to Zayne's study room in the meantime to explore it a bit out of curiosity while the shower is running in the background. Your fingertips brushed over the snowman displayed on the desk neatly which makes your lips curve.

It was not long after until you hear him in the living room, opening his laptop to answer an urgent call. Listening to him speak a few words. Even in this state, Dr Zayne is working hard.

Once the call ends, you show yourself from your hiding spot, “Even Dr Zayne's showers are hurried.” you comment in amusement.

Zayne's lips quirked into a wry smile as he acknowledged your observation. "In my profession, efficiency is key," he replied, “but," he added, his tone softening slightly as he drew closer, "I can assure you, I wasn't rushing for anyone else but you." He reached out to tenderly cup your cheek, his touch gentle but firm.

“It seems that.. The shower did not clear your head.”

"I suppose," he murmured, "you're quite intoxicating even without the alcohol.”

Zayne's next sudden advance caught you by surprise.

The unexpected aggression of pulling your arm towards him made you gasp. But as his lips pressed hard against yours, a surprised sound escaping your lips before you clung to him tightly, your arms wrapping around his neck as you returned the kiss, matching his hunger with your own.

Your fingers tangled in his hair while his hands cupped your cheeks, pushing you back until you were stumbling against his desk where he caught you in time to prevent you from completely losing your balance.

His glasses steamed slightly with each gasping breath. He looked down at you once your lips part, his eyes darkening until your fingers nudged at his glasses which tipped them over slightly, yet Zayne impatiently brushed aside your hand's attempt to fix his glasses and instead took his glasses off in one swift motion.

Hot.

His lips sought yours once more, his kiss hungrier, more urgent than before as he pushed you back against his desk. The sound of books and papers scattering echoed and falling with a loud thud that you couldn't seem to care about for now.

His lips traced a path down your neck, his teeth grazing your skin there, and your chew slightly on your lower lip. His teeth nip along your collarbone, his tongue soothing the slight sting, then repeating the action again and again.

This won't do.

"… You're drunk," you bluntly state, trying to stand from the desk to walk towards the drawer, "I'm getting the hangover medicine—"

His hands darted out to grab your wrists, gently yet firmly, preventing you from moving any further, “please." His grip on your wrists remained steady, his thumbs stroking the insides of your wrists as he leaned against your chest as if you just rejected him.

“I never let myself touch alcohol,” he breathed heavily, and that's when you recognize the slight snowflakes surrounding you both.

“But for you, I broke that rule. Because of you, everything is spiraling out of control...”

…

Zayne kicked open his bedroom door, the force of it slamming against the wall and bouncing back slightly. Without breaking the heated kiss, he carried you to his king-sized bed, the plush comforter and silken sheets welcoming as he lays you down gently.

His hands were almost shaking when he pulled your top off and tossed it carelessly to the floor. His fingertips traced the swell of your breasts, the delicate curves, before cupping them gently.

He dipped his head, pressing open-mouthed kisses along the column of your throat before he's almost whimpering while rubbing his cheek against your cleavage, the warmth seeping through your skin and it's impossibly hard to stop the soft moans when his fingertips brush mindlessly along your nipples.

You were both almost a panting mess when his hands slid down to your hips, gripping them tightly as he ground his own against yours. Even through the fabric of his pants, you could feel the evidence of his arousal, the hard length of him pressing and rubbing against your clothed cunt with such hurry.

"Wrap your legs around me," he commanded, his voice low, almost raspy before he's kissing you messily, all tongue and teeth clashing together combined with his quiet whines when he continues rutting into you.

His body shifts, an arm extending towards the drawer but you stop himself from taking anything out, grabbing his hand and intertwining your fingers together instead.

He feels dizzy, and his hand squeezes yours before his other hand reaches for a pillow to place underneath your hips.

comfort comes first before he starts pounding into you.

Everything was gone. your panties, his belt and boxers all discarded away from his sight while he whispers your name as he grips his shaft to push his already leaking tip into your cunt to take whole.

“O-oh zayne—” A long, drawn-out moan spilled from your lips as Zayne filled you completely, stretching you around his hard, throbbing length. Your back arched off the bed, pressing your chest flush against his own, fingers digging into the muscular expanse of his back.

He was feral. He began to move, pulling nearly all the way out before slamming back in, setting a rough, fast paced.

The bed creaked beneath you, the headboard slamming against the wall with each thrust, and your eyes roll all the way back as whines combined with his heavy breaths and whimpers fill the air.

“A-ah, fuck, honey—” was all you managed to spill out before he's thrusting into you harder when he felt every clench and flutter around his aching cock, the velvet heat driving him to new heights of ecstasy.

“Zayne, zayne, zayne!” you chant in repeat breathlessly, his lips tries to connect with yours when he also feels his impending release drawing too close.

“Y-your zayne is here—” he practically breathes out as he manages to peck your lips, “Mmhn c-coming—” Zayne tries to muffle his whines against your skin when his hips jerked erratically as he emptied himself inside you, wave after wave of searing hot seed spilling into you.

The feeling of Zayne's thick, pulsing cock throbbing and twitching within you made you cum instantly. Your walls clamped down around him like a vice as you rode out your shared climax, hips continuing to rock slowly into you before coming to a halt.

For a moment, there was silence, broken only by the sound of your shared breaths, the rustle of sheets, the soft thump of his heart against yours.

…

You woke up in Zayne's bed, wrapped in his arms, a soft, contented sigh escaping you as you shifted slightly, feeling his warmth against your back.

The sunlight streamed in through the curtains, casting a warm glow over the room. As you turned to face him, you see zayne breathe peacefully, and it brings a faint smile to your face.

He looked younger, almost boyish in sleep, his lashes casting delicate shadows on his cheeks.

His eyelashes are really long. you think, fingertips brushing over his eyelids delicately.

Zayne's eyelids soon fluttered at the light touch of your fingers, and a low, appreciative hum escaped him. He leaned into your touch, seeking more of your warmth and comfort.

Slowly, his eyes opened, a sleepy, warm look in them as he regarded you with a slow, drowsy smile. "Good morning, love,"

[pearlmoney]

The Haunting of Miss Caroline Marsden (snippet)

The audience’s applause could be heard two storeys down, everyone knew the name Caroline Marsden. She stepped from behind the tall black curtains putting on her best smile, she had practised everyday since she was ten for this exact moment. Her sleek black heels clacked on the hardwood floor, she felt as if she would slip with every step she took. It seemed like their cheering would never stop, this stage was so big, it would take at least twenty seconds to walk to the desk. Caroline kept her performed smile on, waving back to the hundreds of staring faces who claimed to know everything about her; who all adored her. Finally, Caroline was on the other side of the stage, shaking hands with an equally, but not quite as, famous TV host. She sat down on the bouncy red couch, feeling the bumpy rhinestones on her dress under her. 

‘Welcome Caroline, it’s so lovely to have you here! Can we all give her another big round of applause?’ Oh god not again. Their hands must be red at this point. Did she even care though? The applause is what she lived for, she needed it. Caroline continued smiling, her face still like stone on the brink of collapse. The clapping slowly faded and Caroline locked eyes with the host once again.

‘So, Please Let Go, huh? Coming to theatres on March 10th; What an amazing piece of work this is!’

‘Oh yes, thank you John.’

‘Why don’t you tell us a little bit more about this film?’

As soon as that question is asked it feels as though everything fades, all sounds are muffled and her vision subsides, Caroline is only able to see her memories and her art.

‘Well, Please Let Go is a drama piece about a girl, Rachael, who is in a difficult first relationship and doesn’t know how to get out of it because she’s afraid of what her partner will say or do. It’s a very important piece of film that I think a lot of young people can relate to and find comfort in.’ she talked so highly of her work it made her want to vomit. Caroline never wanted to be one of those directors who were stuck up and talked freely about how amazing they were. She knew she and her art were perfect but no one was allowed to use that against her, so she had to be perceived as humble. But the applause gets to her, and she can’t help but talk like she’s the only person in the world. 

‘That’s amazing. Now what’s the backstory to this film? How did you come to create it?’

Caroline smiled wider than she thought possible and let out a breath of satisfaction. This was her favourite question. She sat up and fixed her posture, wanting to look her absolute best.

‘Well it’s actually based on the book my partner wrote with the same name. I remember reading it the first time and being so moved by it, I just couldn’t stop thinking about it.’

‘Did you two write this together?’

‘Oh my partner Rose definitely helped me a lot, I mean it was based on their book, of course I’d look to her for guidance.’

There were soft ‘aaw’s in the crowd as Caroline spoke of Rose, someone these fans should be quite familiar with by now. The amount Caroline talks about them online and in interviews was astounding, she was shocked no one told her to be quiet by now.

‘That’s lovely, and where is Rose tonight?’

‘She’s in Seattle on her book tour, promoting her new limited edition version of Please Let Go. I hope they’re watching me in their hotel room tonight.’ Caroline spoke with a less forced and more fond smile, thinking about her loved partner watching her from afar. Caroline looked right down the barrel of one of the huge film cameras on set, ‘I love you Rosey, I hope you’re having a good time over there.’ The audience erupted in cheers once again, Caroline’s ears didn’t respond to it, blocking it out as she dreamt of her partner being here with her talking about their new movie.

The loud applause was cut short by the TV switching off, leaving Caroline in a dark, cold, empty room. Tissues, wrappers, bottles, anything else that would’ve been cleaned off the floor in an instant stayed there in a depressing tableau, almost waiting to be put away, watching in judgement at Caroline's newly found state. Caroline stared at the black screen, just able to see her now rejected reflection. Before she could think too hard on that, she pulled herself up from her chair and dragged her feet to the kitchen.

 She sighed, opening the fridge to find another drink, but she had already wasted them all. She hung her head in shame before turning to the clock on the microwave. ‘7:09AM’ it read, that familiar pit sat in her stomach realising she’s gone another night without sleep. How long has it been now? 75 hours? It was hard to keep track, Caroline had more important things to think about, like her premiere in two weeks, her fitting tomorrow, or well today. And the funeral on Friday. Before she could even stop herself she let out a quiet chuckle.

‘What kind of heartless bastard holds a funeral on a Friday? Like come on Jill, we all have better things to be doing, I’d rather spend my Friday dressed in a bikini on the beach with a drink in one hand and a woman in the other! Not standing around people I hate, mourning a person who shouldn’t even be having this so called fucking celebration!' Caroline shouted to no one, throwing her half empty bottle at the wall opposite her, gasping as it shattered against the paint. She stared at the wet stain on the wall, trying to slow her breathing back to normal but failing completely. She left the glass pile on the floor, too distressed to even think about cleaning it. She slowly walked back to her chair and slumped down, giving a long dramatic sigh. Caroline hadn’t felt like this since college. Excessive depression and nothing to help it, not a single thing could pull her out of her ‘funk’ as her mom would call it. Well there was one thing, but she was gone now.

Thank you so much for reading a short piece from my book I'm working on The Haunting of Miss Caroline Marsden!! If you want to learn a little more about it, have a look at my pinned post on my account. I have been working so hard on this project for a few months now and would love feedback on it. If you have any questions, comments, critiques, please share!!

[deadendmasongilbert]

"I miss my mum."

“I want to go home.” Anne said.

“I know.” Tyler responded. “We’ll get you home.”

She tried to stop her tears but it was no use. “I miss my mum.” She said through a broken voice.

Tyler moved to sit next to her and wrapped her in a hug.

“I don’t want to be here anymore. I want to be alive.”

“I know.”

“I miss my girlfriend back home. I never found her.”

“I know,” He repeated, a little quieter this time. “Once we’re out of here, we’ll find her, okay?”

She nodded. “I just,” She took a deep breath. “I just can’t take this anymore. I’m in so much pain, I’m suffering, I can’t keep going.”

“We all feel the same way, I know. It’s going to be okay. It’s not long until we leave, then we can see Mortalitas.”

She shook her head. “She won’t let me live, I’ve done bad things.” 

“No you haven’t, nothing horrible. You stood for what you believed in, she will respect that.”

“I don’t know.” She sniffled. “I miss my mum.” She repeated. It felt stupid wanting to be held by her mother at the age of nineteen, but she couldn’t deny it. Just the sheer comfort a mother brings is like no other. Anne could be sixty years old and still cry out for her mum over a papercut.

[hwihwa-korean-calligrapher]

(+eng) 희망 글귀: 너그러운 바다는 슬픔의 눈물로 영롱한 진주를 만든다. -휘화생각- -Hopeful message: A generous sea makes a tear of sorrow into shiny pearls. -Hwihwa- #캘리그라피글귀,#희망글귀그램,#진주캘리,#바다캘리,#koreancalligraphy,#hopefulmessage,#고생끝에낙,#희망글,#koreanexpressions,#바다글귀,#pearlwritings https://www.instagram.com/p/CdOQor-vB3q/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[armsdealing]

Have you ever cried while writing a reply?

be honest / accepting / @apearlwrites

i may have shed a tear or two or some while plotting. i may have done so while reading replies or drabbles meant for me. but writing? hmmm maybe at some point in the past but not as of recently. it’s nothing that happens even rarely. i think i focus too much on making sure my writing is decent. i may get sad, i may get really sad, if im writing some angst, but not to the point of crying.

[pearlymel]

REASSURANCE

Synopsis. Caleb wants to make sure that you can rely on him, and only him.

Warnings. NSFW, smut, fem reader, obsessive Caleb, fluff, angst, yandere caleb(?), fingering, unprotected, kinda rough, first time sex, 3k ish words.

notes. Caleb's myth just dropped wtf I need him (yeah I'm a Caleb fucker now :p)

Wearing a bell so that you wouldn't escape in your injured state…

Did you hear that right?

No, is he hearing himself?

“what the hell are you spouting?”

Oh, he's heard himself just fine. Heard it inside his head for years. Just as he's heard the excuses you make every time you try to slip away, as if he can't see through them. "I think you heard what I said, pipsquick. Just didn't get it through that pretty head of yours."

He squeezes your ankle lightly, many times you tried pulling away from, but his Evol makes sure you stay. Afraid he might snap it, you freeze. He could.

"Caleb," you try again, this time using that sweet sweet method. calling him using the softest voice.

And the tone almost works. Almost.

"I'm getting tired, and it barely hurts anymore, you can leave me alone." you try convincing him, to get past him.

But nothing ever gets past him, no?

He's always had a hard time telling you no anyways, and he's tempted to give in again. Still, his gaze is hard; he knows you're just biding your time again.

You get a passing grade, though. Not many people could distract him when he's like this...and the tone you use is so terribly effective.

"leave you alone? After you're hurt? Cute. No." But he's still in that mood, so he continues, "keep still. I'm going to clean the wound.”

You grit your teeth together, that method is slowly becoming useless on him.

You comply, for now. doesn't mean you won't struggle later.

Caleb's lip raises slightly, Good. Be quiet a little longer.

He takes your compliance as his win, a faint smirk barely visible on his face as you finally stop resisting. Of course he knows you're just doing it to avoid fighting him at this moment, but he'll take what he can get.

“… Did you mean it?” you break the silence, and he glances up at you with a brow slightly arched.

“putting on.. The bell.” you continue.

"Oh, you mean the collar?"

His hands still for a few seconds, he's not used to you asking about things like this; even at the mention of it, his mind drifts to how you might look wearing it.

"Why? Are you… into that kind of thing?" His voice takes a lower turn, slightly too eager; and your eyes widen a fraction.

“No.” The answer is immediate, you would never put yourself in a situation where it would get… Humiliating.

“Shame.” Caleb scoffs out a chuckle while shaking his head, you're so proper, aren't you? Always proper, polite, kind. A good girl.

So proper, but you're here right now, injured, and on the sofa in his apartment, no less. That innocence is something he'll treasure, but that doesn't stop him from wanting to find ways to defile your purity.

Sick and humiliating...that's how you see it.

He finishes with your leg, then reaches for your chin, tilting your face forward to look at him.

"Let me ask you something first. Honesty, okay?”

You don't answer.

He raises your chin just a little higher, forcing you to meet his gaze.

"No more trying to escape. Do you understand?”

But you shake your head.

His grip tightens just a little bit when you refuse, irritation flaring up. Of course you don't want to understand.

He sighs, restraining the dark emotions bubbling in his chest, forcing his grip to soften again.

"Of course you don't." His hand leaves your chin, his touch moving to the side of your face, his fingers running down along your skin. Soft and warm, and so painfully easy to break.

“let me out,” It almost sounds like a whine from you, and it makes his blood burn.

His hand slides down to your hand, interlocking your fingers together, “No.” his answer is clear, firm.

“I don't need you!” you hiss out through gritted teeth. “Oh, you need me. Don't you get it? I'm the only one who can protect you.” his tone almost sounds crazed.

You scoff, “you're crazy.”

Caleb's cheek brushes against the back of your hand, and a smile graces his face at your words.

You call him crazy, as if your entire existence isn't enough to drive him to madness.

"I am crazy, yeah," he breathes out, a kiss on the back of your hand follows after, "Just for you. I'm so crazy for you.”

“Caleb!” you raise your voice, shaking his shoulder with your free hand, as if trying to knock some sense into him.

“Stop yelling.”

“or what?”

You always do this, and he's getting tired of it.

“or what?” He mocks you, “Don't test me.”

You freezes once more, almost in disbelief at his words.

Your childhood friend is not in his right mind, you know it. You've known each other since forever. Been together since forever.

His hand moves to your neck, his thumb lightly stroking the skin there.

“I won't escape.” his gaze snaps to your face as you speak again, “just.. Just let me out for now, Caleb.”

His gaze then drops to your neck, watching the way his thumb brushes over your skin.

It feels so fragile, so delicate. He's suddenly reminded of how easy it would be for him to wrap his hand around your throat and—Stop it.

He shakes the thought away, forcing himself to focus on your face again. Your words, your tone; they sound like a promise. Something he's waiting for you to actually keep.

"Do you actually mean it this time? Or is this another promise you're going to break?”

“I mean it,”

His instincts are telling him you're lying to get his guard down; you've tried it before, many times.

“Caleb…?”

He's not having it.

Every time you've promised to stay, and you ran off.

Every time you said you'd be careful, and you put yourself in danger.

Every time you said you'd listen, and you deliberately crossed the line to frustrate him.

He's sick and tired of it. Sick and tired of all of it.

Don't you understand? He just wants to keep you safe. With him.

He's just staring at you, his emotions a chaotic mess. He can see the look on your face, the way you avoid looking at him.

It makes his heart ache. Having reached this point where trust is on the line, where you both don't trust each other anymore.

He's done this. He's hurt you.

His throat feels tight and constricted, and he can't help but ask, "you... you really hate me, do you?”

When you're unable to answer him, his face falls. You hate what he has become, but you don't hate Caleb himself. No, never.

He's always known who he is, but this...he's never hated himself as much as he does right now.

"Maybe I shouldn't have come back," he murmurs, the words almost too quiet to hear. Although you catch on the words quickly.

“nonsense.” you shake your head, “I’m…” you pause, “I'm sorry if I hurted you with my words, please don't leave.”

You're apologizing to him. And it tears him up even apart.

You're all that I have left, you think.

…

Even in the vast emptiness of the apartment, he still feels lonely, he still misses your presence.

He's been alone in the living room for an hour now, and he's restless. His thoughts keep going back to you, he keeps thinking about you behind the closed door of the bedroom (where he carried you to, where you're currently resting), and he can't just sit still.

He can't get the image of you out of his head, and the fact that you're so damn close but yet so far away is driving him insane.

He knows he should just let it go, let you be mad, upset at him if that's going to keep you.

He approaches the door and stops for a moment, his hand resting on the handle.

He can hear the faint sound of you moving around in there, the sound of bed sheets rustling, and he knows you're in his room, his bed.

It's weird, knowing you're avoiding him but seeking comfort in his room, but he can't help but find it a little endearing at the same time.

He feels like it's a mistake to enter the room without knocking first, but he needed to see you now. Needed to know if you were doing okay.

And there he was met by the sight of you. his bed, his pillow, his blanket, and you're just there, buried under the covers, and he can just feel the urge to join you.

He steps inside, closing the door behind him, and he just stands there for a moment.

You call out to him in a low tone, “Caleb…?”

"Yeah?" He responds, taking a few more steps towards the bed, the covers covering most of your form, but he can still see your face peeking out.

“What's wrong?”

He sits down on the edge of the bed, the mattress shifting slightly under his weight. He looks down at you, his gaze soft as he speaks.

"Nothing's wrong."

He's lying.

He's here because he can't stop thinking about you, he's here because he needs to see you, he's here because he needs to be close to you.

You feel even sleepier when he touches you, running his hand through your hair, his fingers gently stroking your scalp, and he can feel the way you lean into him, seeking more.

He wants more too. It reminds you of so many nights when you both were teenagers, when you would struggle to sleep, or when you needed some comfort after failing an exam. And he would promise to teach you the subject, even if he had to learn it all.

“I’m sorry about… earlier.” he starts, leaning in to press a kiss on your forehead. “i didn’t mean to scare you.” he adds. I just want to be the one you would lean onto, the one you would rely on to protect you.

You're silent again, half asleep, the sight is quite adorable, the gentle presses and caresses on your head doesn't stop.

“hey, pipsquick,”

You almost smile at the familiar nickname.

“honey?”

Your eyes now fully opened as he grabbed your attention.

You both are really no longer kids…

…

You feel heat rush through your neck, to your ears, is this even okay? Crossing that invisible line?

“Caleb—ah—slow down,” his lips finds yours again, everywhere his lips can reach, until you're relaxed enough underneath him.

All while his fingers continue to curl deep into that spongy spot deep inside your tight hole, his palm never forgetting to press into your swollen bundle of nerves that already has you rolling your eyes back.

His other hand slides up your body to cup your breast, kneading the soft mound, teasing your nipple until it peaks into a hard, aching bud. And Caleb watches your every reaction, how your jaw hangs open as he rolls it between his fingers, pinching and tugging until your back arches off the mattress.

Caleb knows he should slow down, should give you a moment to catch your breath, to come down from the heights of pleasure he's brought you to. But he can't, not when he knows he's the one making you feel like this, all for him. Your first and last.

“p-please enough, just—just put it in,”

Your plea doesn't go unheard by him, “Oh, my sweet girl.” he purrs as he reaches down to undo his pants, the sound of his zipper descending seeming obscenely loud in the silence of the room.

He pulls out his cock, and your eyes widen at the sight of it, a gasp escaping your kiss-swollen lips. He's… huge.

the thick shaft throbbing and hard, the tip already glistening with the drops of pre-cum. Caleb wraps a hand around himself, stroking slowly, his thumb swiping and rubbing over the leaking slit.

Fuck, he's hot.

Upon sensing the nervousness creeping in, he reaches up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip. "I know it's a lot to take in, but don't worry. I'll be gentle... at first.” he whispers the last part, and you don't think you quite caught on.

He takes your hand and guides it to his cock, wrapping your fingers around his thick shaft, showing you how to stroke him, how to feel every pulsing inch of him. "Get a good grip, sweetheart," he instructs, he starts to move your hand up and down his length. "Squeeze me just like that, sweets. Yeah, fuck..." He throws his head back with a low groan as your fingers tighten around him, his hips rocking into your touch.

With his other hand, he reaches down to your thigh, lifting your leg up to wrap around his waist, opening you up to him.

“up, up, there we go,” you lift your hips as told, and your hand freezes when he starts pushing in your entrance, your hands scratching at his chest panickingly.

“breathe,” he murmurs, leaning to kiss your shut eyelids while he rubs your thigh comfortingly until he buries himself to the hilt.

his hips starts to move after giving you a moment to adjust, not withdrawing completely, but rolling and rocking against you, stirring himself inside your clutching cunt.

“Caleb..” you whine, bringing him closer as you wrap your arms around him, "Shh, it's okay, baby. I've got you," he murmurs against your lips, his hand coming up to stroke your hair, to cup your face tenderly. "I know it hurts, but I promise, it will feel so much better soon.”

Caleb starts to move again, his thrusts still slow and careful. He can feel your body starting to relax, "you're doing so well," he praises, and you start to rock your hips against his, meeting his thrusts with your own.

"Such a good girl, taking your first cock like a pro.” he teases, and you huff, feeling your face heat up.

He takes your hand into his, intertwining your fingers together while picking up the pace as leans down to capture your lips in a searing kiss, swallowing your moans, his tongue delving to tangle with yours.

he starts snaps his hips faster, driving into you with hard, deep thrusts that's having the headboard slamming against the wall. Until both of you are moaning and whimpering desperately.

His other hand grips your hip, holding you in place as he fucks into you with wild abandon, chasing his own release even as he demands yours. “haaah, I'm so close,” he pants against your lips, his hips jerking erratically as he feels his balls tightening, his shaft pulsing inside you. “let's cum together, please honey,”

Your walls spasm around his cock, gripping him like a vice as your orgasm rips through you, leaving you trembling and gasping. The feeling of your pussy clamping down on him, milking his shaft, is too much for Caleb to bear. With a whimper of your name, he buries himself to the hilt, his cock pulsing and jerking as he starts to come hard, flooding spurt after spurt of his hot, thick cum.

his weight pressing you into the mattress as he grinds his hips against yours, working his cock inside you, making sure every last drop of his cum does not go to waste.

He can feel the warm, sticky fluid starting to seep out around his shaft, dripping down to soak the sheets beneath you.

Then, silence. Accompanied by both your heavy breathings.

…

He's holding you in his arms, your body molded to his, and for a moment, the world feels like it's at peace. Caleb is whispering sweet nothings into your ear, his lips brushing against your skin, his hands stroking your hair. His voice is soft, gentle, and he's holding you like you're the most precious thing in the world.

“I'm sleepy,”

He rubs your back gently, his hand moving in slow circles, and he can feel the way you melt even more against him, "you can sleep. I'm here.”

[pearlymel]

Dandelion

love is in the air.

"These other flowers, don’t grow the same / So just leave it here with me, let’s get dirty, dirty."

warnings: NSFW, MDNI. extremely soft soft husband Sylus x fem reader. there's really no plot, it's just the life of a married couple (plus celebrating his birthday), contains oral (fem rec), dry humping, unprotected, it's just soft, fluff, multiple petnames. 2.8k words.

notes: lyric reference from "dandelion" by Ariana grande. happy birthday to my baby <3

You can feel your hands sweating against Sylus’ as you turn your head around the different departments and stores in the mall.

You pray that he doesn't notice you trying to stay cool while you were dying inside to get his gift.

Sylus guides you to a chic, high-end shopping arcade. It's filled with rows of luxurious stores. Places you're already familiar with.

He guides you through the sea of designer clothes, his thumb occasionally rubbing circles on the back of your hand.

"see anything you like so far?” He begins. you don't look interested enough, he notes. "Why don't you find something that you like, and don't look at the price tag.”

Not now, you weren't here to shop for you.

“I'll be back, stay here.” He watches you dash off with a bemused expression.

This little escapade feels almost like a game. He's not bothered by it, not really. But it almost felt like you were avoiding him all day.

Little did he know you were silent from overthinking of getting something as simple as a gift.

"Don't get into any trouble, sweetie—" he calls out, but he knows you'll be too preoccupied to listen.

He waits there, looking the picture of nonchalant.

—

“honey, stop,”

Honey.

That's a little unfair.

“I was supposed to—” Though Sylus doesn't listen, his tongue laves over your clothed cunt in long, languid strokes.

What did you even do for him to be this eager after coming back from the mall?

“what? Can't have my favorite snack after a long day?” His grip on your wrist tightens just when he senses you were about to push him off.

It's not like you hate it. No, never. It's just you were supposed do something that you completely forgot because of how he's making your head blank.

His teeth then find the hem of your panties. Slowly, he pulls the fabric down, leaving your pussy exposed to his eyes when he spreads your legs further apart.

He takes a moment just to look. And you're almost embarrassed.

He’d call you a work of art, like he always does, but he knows if he does it now while focusing on the wetness smeared on your pussy, you'll be dying from embarrassment.

“don't stare at it,” you pout.

His eyes flick up to your face, and he can’t help smirking. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Sylus brushes the pad of a finger directly on your clit, and you're immediately shivering.

He circles your bundle of nerves in a slow and soothing way, the type that makes you moan softly while pushing your hips to seek more.

His head dips down, and his tongue quickly replaces his finger, making you gasp as you immediately grab a handful of his hair to tug at.

He continues the onslaught with his mouth, his fingers now sliding through your wet folds and pressing against your entrance. He hears your soft gasp once again, the way your breathing hitches when he pushes one inside—not nearly enough, but it’s all he can give you like this.

“I’ll give you more than this later, be patient. ” He breaks away to murmur against your inner thigh, he sucks in a breath at the way you cry out for him, and presses another finger inside you, pumping them in and out. He wants to hear more of it, every single noise you make, so he returns to teasing your clit with his tongue.

“Oh, sylus, you're being so good for me—”

The words make him feel dizzy—he thrives on praise, the same way that you crave his touch.

His fingers press in deeper, curving just right to stroke the sensitive spot inside you. He’s not going to be gentle at this point; he’s already too far gone, drunk on you.

“Mmhn, faster—” you demand with a whine, and his fingers move to your request, faster, rougher, curling just right against that sensitive spot and—

Ding dong.

Your eyes shoot open, you're both suddenly interrupted by the doorbell leading to the entry of the manor, loud voices coming from the entrance.

Damn it all to hell. The twins.

Right, you remember the thing you wanted to do, you were going to bake with them since everyday is of this month (April) is their boss man's birthday.

Sylus wants you, desperately, and the last thing he needs right now is company, especially their company.

—

The house is quiet, finally quiet.

Sylus stands back from his desk, staring down at a pile of documents strewn across the wood. But he’s not reading a single thing.

He’s frustrated, but not for the usual reasons. Just thinking about earlier (before you were interrupted), it makes him hard again.

—

Your idea of help to ease his stress is definitely… interesting

He’s standing between your legs, eyes watching your furrowed eyebrows, your face is nothing but focused as you glide the razor across his jaw.

How adorable.

Sylus was in the middle of shaving after a long night, but of course, you insisted on sitting on the sink to “help out.”

no, you weren't helping. Sylus wanted to get rid of his hard on by doing something else and letting you relax. You basically walked into his trap.

He can't help but lean into your hands, eyes slightly closed as you finish up shaving the last bits right above his lips. You then grab a towel to pat dry the remaining foam on his face.

“you're all fresh for your upcoming birthday,” you comment, followed by leaning in to press a kiss to his cheek.

A kiss greets your cheek back from his own lips, “I have you to thank for that, apparently.”

He pulls back, giving you a playful smirk. “I suppose I’ll look pretty for you then, won’t I?”

You grin back, “you're like prince charming, annoyingly handsome,”

A snort escapes him before he can help it. He looks at your face, trying to look serious but failing completely.

“I prefer to be a dragon keeping you in the top of my tower, so that prince charming can't reach you, princess.”

Oh, that sounds hot alright.

You're both laughing after a moment of silence, Sylus buries his face on your shoulder while he holds you close to him. my precious.

—

it's midnight before you realize it, his birthday.

Sylus shivers under your touch, tilting his head into your hand at once like an obedient dog. An obedient dragon, perhaps—but a tamed one. Or, well. A semi-tamed one.

"You don't need to worry," he whispers, "I'll be gentle with you,"

You melt at his reassuring words, even while he promises he'll behave, his hands wander a little. Sliding up beneath your nightgown.

“I prepared a gift for you,” you say as you continue caressing his face, “but you'll receive it in the morning. At our garden.”

It took effort to not throw you back onto the bed and devour you then and there. You and your sweet, kind words, your sweet and kind touches.

Sylus chuckles, "I appreciate the thought, sweetie," he hums, his voice rough and low. "But this is all I want for my birthday."

His fingers trail higher, teasing the edge of your underwear and sending heat straight to your core.

His hand wanders higher, gently rubbing against the dampening fabric of your underwear. all the while, his eyes remain locked on yours. "Is this all for me?" he murmurs, "All this excitement, this anticipation...?”

A soft grunt escapes his lips when you suddenly climb into his lap, his hands automatically coming to rest on your sides.

Your thighs on either side of his thighs, your arms around his neck. The weight of you, the warmth of you, it's driving him insane.

Your lips are over his, and he returns the kiss eagerly, one hand winding in your hair, the other roaming across your skin to settle on the small of your back.

You're so close, so close that you both can't help but grind against each other impatiently. He groans your name, his hips instinctively bucking up to meet yours, desperate to feel even more of you.

"Sweetie,"

“I love you, pretty boy,” you whisper in between short kisses, and a lopsided grin spreads across his face at your words, his heart giving a little flutter in spite of the heat of the moment.

“love you too, my jewel,” he whispers just before his mouth captures yours in another deep, passionate kiss.

He breaks the kiss to trail his lips down the column of your throat, Sylus nips and licks his way down your body, pulling down your nightgown just enough until your pretty breasts are in display for him.

gorgeous, Sylus thinks as he leans down to take one nipple into his mouth, suckling greedily while you whine from the stimulation as his hand kneads the other breast.

“Sylus—” your fingers tug at his hair when you felt his teeth graze the sensitive peak, and he releases your breast with a wet pop, a string of saliva connecting his lips to your damp nipple.

You're in a daze, and before you know it, he's lifting your hips up to gently lay you back on the mattress and unbuckle his belt, to free his aching cock from it's tight confinements.

He rocks his hips forward, grinding the tip of his cock over your slick folds, teasing your clit before pushing just slightly inside you then pulling back out.

Sylus huffs out a breathy chuckle when he watches how you try to take more of his inches, yet he continues teasing you again and again, without giving you what you need.

Finally, he rolls his hips slowly, the thick head of his cock parting your folds, slipping inside you with a low groan. He took his time, inch by inch, letting you feel every throb of his length sinking into you, stretching you around him.

When he was finally fully sheathed inside you, he paused, his forehead pressed against yours, his breath mingling with your own. One hand slid down to your belly, cupping the gentle curve, his thumb tracing the line where your bodies joined.

“Oh, you feel incredible.”

“i-I do?”

Sylus raises a brow just slightly before he gives you a slow, deep roll of his hips, grinding his pelvis against yours, and this man moans out just for you to hear.

“does this answer your question, pretty girl?”

His hand then slides down to your knee, pushing it up and back towards your chest until your thigh was draped over his shoulder, opening you even wider to him.

Your nails scratch at his chest, you feel like you're above the clouds, but at the same time it feels like you're on fire.

You hiss when he starts to move faster, his strokes growing longer and harder, each thrust pushing you up the bed slightly. The new angle let him hit that secret spot deep inside you with every drive of his hips, and you couldn't help but cry out, your nails digging into his shoulders.

“C-careful,” Sylus almost stops at your plea. Instead, he slows his thrusts before pressing a kiss to your forehead, “i’ve got you, beloved.” he doesn't question anything, he'd rather listen to you and do it without questioning it.

Sylus grinds his pelvis against yours, rubbing your clit firmly as he buries himself balls-deep inside your spasming cunt.

He feels your body go rigid, then—he senses you shudder violently as your orgasm crashes over you, wave of pure, unadulterated bliss radiating out from your core, and you almost feel relaxed.

your walls clench around his length, milking his own impending release. Sylus slots his lips over yours messily as he finds his own release, his cock pulsing as he pumps stream of thick, hot cum deep into your still fluttering pussy.

Though, he doesn't stop afterwards, he continues overstimulating himself, slowly grinding his softening cock into you while you both moan and whimper into each other's lips.

you both stay still, and he gives your cheek one last kiss, “is my wife sleepy?”

“… happy birthday.”

“thank you, dearest.”

—

As you stepped outside, you couldn't help but appreciate the perfect weather; the sun shined gently in the sky, a light breeze passed through the garden. It was as if the sun was setting up a romantic scene.

Sylus let out a soft hum of contentment when the picnic setup comes to view, a small twitch of surprise on his face. His gaze immediately went to yours, a subtle smile tugging on his lips.

"You did this? For me?" He asked, raising his eyebrows somewhat as he gently pulled you closer to him by the waist.

"happy birthday!"

your husband definitely didn't expect to be tackled to the ground, but he couldn't stop the wide grin on his face as you rolled both of you down. He lands on the soft grass with a soft thump, his hands landing on your waist to stabilize you both.

"You little-" Sylus' words are cut off when he feels you hands cupping his face, his expression softens, it’s like you could almost see his eyes sparkle.

he couldn't help but close his eyes instinctively when you started showering his face with soft, gentle kisses. He let out a light laugh at the feeling of your lips. The subtle feeling of the leaves falling from the trees above you and landing on you both added to the atmosphere, and Sylus felt a strange sense of peace wash over him. Opening his eyes, he looked at you, “you’re beautiful.”

you grin, “thank you, handsome.”

The grass beneath you was soft, almost like a bed of feathers.

"come," you stand up to take Sylus' hands in yours, guiding him towards the little set up.

As you reached the blanket on the grass, he sits down to lean back, and his eyes roams over the food that was laid out.

"You went all out, huh? Did you plan all this by yourself?" He asked, still somewhat not believing that this scene was set up for his birthday.

"anything for you," you clear your throat, sitting right in front of him with a box on your lap, “food or gift first?”

you seem even more excited than he is, which makes him pretty excited. "The gift, then. You didn't really expect me to choose food over your present, did you?” Sylus chuckled as he watched you excitedly handing him the small box, "… Should I be worried that you're going to burst from excitement?”

you roll your eyes, crossing your arms as if to silently tell him open it already.

He lifts the lid off.

... And he contents of the box was not what he expected, as it only had two items.

a onesie. And baby shoes next to it.

His expression went blank as he stared at the two items: the onesie and the baby shoes. For a moment, he was completely speechless, unable to process what he was looking at, then slowly, he lifted his gaze to look at you, his wide eyes filled with bewilderment.

"Are you—” He could only manage to say the first two words, but the rest got caught in his throat.

at first, you were smiling at the anticipation of what his reaction might be, but your expression falls when you sense his face pale slightly.

before you could even ask him what’s wrong, he turns to you, “did i hurt you last night? did i press anywhere too hard? did i—”

you wrap your arms around his neck as a gesture of reassurance, Sylus couldn't help but bury his face in your shoulder, his emotions threatening to overwhelm him completely. He wrapped his own arms around you, holding you tight, as if trying to anchor himself in the reality of this moment.

“i’m perfectly fine, hon. don’t worry.” you try soothing him, your hand rubbing his back.

“you’re pregnant.” His voice was soft and shaky as he spoke, his words muffled by your skin. "I can't believe it."

“don’t cry.” you tease, and he couldn't help but let out another small laugh, his heart swells with affection. He held you just a bit tighter, a small smile on his face.

A family. You're expecting. You're going to be parents. Oh god, now he has to make sure the house is safe for the baby.

This is truly, the best gift he has ever received.

"We're going to be three," he says in awe, the words bringing joy and pride to him. He leaned in, his forehead gently touching yours, "You, me, and our little one.”

Sylus might not be crying this time, but when he holds his little one for the first time, his emotions might betray him.

[pearlymel]

Immediate disorder

Sum. You walked right into that trap. Did you know it was coming? Absolutely (not).

Warnings. NSFW, smut, fem reader, unprotected sex, noncon(?), slight nipple play, blood (on the lips), biting, idk what to make of this. 1.8k words.

Notes. Did you miss me? Jk. I hope I'm not too late on posting this. Anyway, will probably post a Rafayel day fic next!

Zayne's head snapped to the side as your fingers dug into his jaw, tilting his face at a sharp angle. The needle pierced his neck—hot, then cold, then a surge of searing heat that raced through his veins like liquid fire.

"Stop holding yourself back," your voice, almost a whisper to his ear, something gentle. A contrast to what you had just done. ".. Confront your true self."

He bared his teeth, a feral sound tearing from his throat as the drug took hold. His muscles seized, back arching against the unyielding chair. The restraints bit harshly into his skin, metal groaning as his body strained against them.

His eyes then flew open, hazel-green irises swallowed by black pupils. You stepped back, watching.

Zayne's chest heaved, breath coming in harsh pants. The drug pulsed through him, setting his nerves alight.

Confront your true self, you had whispered. As if he didn't know what that meant.

He was a warden no longer. He was a prisoner. A monster, forged in the crucible of a broken world.

Slowly, he turned his head back to face you, lips curling into a grin. The restraints creaked ominously as he leaned forward from his place.

His voice was a low rasp, "Is this what you wanted to see?"

He rose to his feet, the chains had held him rattled and strained, but did not break.

"Your mistake..." He took a step towards you, head cocked to the side. "Was thinking I was still sane.”

Shit. you try telling yourself that it will be okay, even though he could probably barely recognize you anymore.

you just had to find the activator, press it and he would be fine, right? The biggest challenge was, getting close to him.

With full force, you managed to grab him, pushing him right onto the chair where his back slammed into it, the air forced from his lungs in a harsh exhale. "You think..." he breathes harshly, as if sweating, "you can control this?”

One hand shot out, fingers wrapping around your wrist. His grip was like a vice as he yanked you closer, until your face was mere inches from his own.

“where's the activator?” frustration evident in your tone, only to be met with a chuckle.

“why don't you.. touch me and find out?” He leaned in closer, right next to your ear, "If you fail, there will be consequences.”

That's it. You had a minute to search him, and you weren't going to give up until the end. Your hands caressed his chest, unintentionally, of course. The subtle touch made him hiss, but you decide to ignore it.

Thirty seconds left. Twenty. Ten.

You were terrible at working under stress, and he was going to snap. He was going to break. And you would be the one to bear the consequences.

Three. Two. One.

Zayne felt the chains shatter like glass, the sudden movement sent you stumbling back, but before you could get too far, his hand gripped the back of your head, grabbing your hair to crash your lips together into a bruising kiss.

It was no lover's embrace, but a violent claiming. His mouth slanted over yours, teeth and tongue and breath stealing into your lungs, one hand sliding up your chest to squeeze while keeping your head in place, making you moan helplessly.

Then, you're both on the hard, cold ground before you knew it. His knuckles grazing the concrete floor without realizing it as means to protect your head.

With a shake of his head, both of his hands now grip underneath your thighs to part them, to slot himself in between them before his teeth found the bare skin of your exposed neck.

A strangled gasp tears from your throat, “o-oh,” you want to pull him away, but even tugging on his hair won't make him stop.

He presses your thighs further, “this isn't how you imagined our first to be, hm?” He whispered against your lips before his teeth found your lower lip, tugging on it hard enough to elicit a pained groan out of you.

Until the bitter taste of copper reached your taste buds that he tried swiping it away with a soft glide of his tongue.

Zayne then buried his face between your chest while his hips tried rocking into you desperately, like it was too painful for him him to handle.

His hands that were underneath your thighs made their way up to squeeze your ass before his fingers dig into the fabric to pull it all down, “Don't deny me,” he murmured like he was out of breath.

He only lifted his head to rip your top off almost too easily, zayne could sense your hesitation, anticipation, all the possible overwhelming feelings that you couldn't name at once.

You're left with nothing but you're undergarments, your skin was starting to shiver, maybe from the cold, but also from his half lidded almost hungry gaze.

Your hand pushed at his side, still trying to find the activator, but he grabs your wrist, and his teeth tugs at the lace of your bra to pull down to expose your tit to his hungry eyes. For him to taste and devour.

“Zayne, please—” you grit your teeth together when his tongue rolled around your neglected nipple, the stimulation almost making your eyes roll back.

“Keep saying my name,” he growled, his fingers that almost fooled you to be a featherlight touch, moved to tug your panties to the side, enough to expose your cunt to him, not bothering to slide it off.

“The.. Activator.. Where..” you were almost losing your own sanity when two fingers parted your folds to find the little bundle of nerves hiding beneath them, and the minute he started rubbing without mercy, is when the first moan slips from your lips.

And Zayne is gone.

“I've held myself back for so long.. And now..” he hissed, freeing himself from the tight confinements of his black leather pants. His cock all leaky and red, as if ready to burst if he hears your sweet sounds again.

He wraps a hand around his thick shaft, rubbing his tip over your slick slit, teasing your clit which most definitely made you arch your hips further into him. Wanting, no—needing him inside you because this is all you were missing, no matter how much you tried denying it.

Your head swims back to the time Zayne had silenced the prisoners, carrying a powerful presence and voice, oh was it so hot that you literally clenched around nothing.

“h-haah—!” your eyebrows furrow, and your lips part when you suddenly feel full. While imagining your fantasies, you didn't even notice him thrusting in all the way, the intrusion making you clench tightly this time around his hard length.

The pain was sudden. Sharper than you had expected, a burning, stretching ache that stole the breath from your lungs.

But it was fleeting.

Gone as quickly as it had come, replaced by a rush of pleasure so intense it bordered on pain. He started to move, slowly at first, then faster. Harder.

The wet, obscene sound of flesh slapping against flesh filled the air, mingling with their ragged breaths and needy moans.

"Could stay here forever," he panted heavily while squeezing the plush of your thighs, his tip nudging deep inside that spongy spot on repeat that you couldn't help but cry out.

"Feels.. I-incredible." Zayne looked like he was out of it, eyes half lidded, almost rolled back with his head thrown back, and panting like a starving animal.

“Zayne, mmh—” your whimpers only drove him to snap his hips again and again, each thrust harder than the last. The force of it rocked your body, made your breasts bounce with each thrust that it was maddening.

Your toes curled when you felt the telltale signs of your orgasm approaching. Then, you glance down at his abdomen.

One last chance.

With all the strength left in you, you reach out to press against his abdomen where you were sure was the activator this time.

In an instant, the fog lifted.

The red haze that had clouded his vision, the primal, unchecked rage that had driven him to this point, evaporated.

He blinked once. Twice. His eyes, no longer black and lifeless, focused on your face.

But then all the feelings had become to overwhelming to bear, his hips faltered, and the force of his release made him whine quietly, the back of his hand covering his mouth.

His face, full of ecstasy, made you cum right on the spot as well, “ah shit—” you press your lips together, covering your face using both of your shaky hands as you moved your hips sloppily until you both completely stopped.

Then, a new realization dawned. A cold, hard truth that settled in the pit of his stomach like a stone.

He had hurt you.

The breath left his lungs in a shuddering exhale, and for a moment, he couldn't move. Couldn't think. Could only stare down at you with a dawning horror etched into every line of his face.

“No…” His voice was a hoarse, broken whisper. you could see the way his body started shaking when he slowly pulled out to not hurt you, and the way his shaky hands tried covering your chest up to maintain some decency.

He had never meant for this to happen. Never wanted to hurt you.

And yet, in his frenzied state, he had lost all control. Had become the very thing he had once sworn to destroy.

“F-forgive me.” he almost choked out, and you wouldn't believe it but.. Was he crying? His eyes were red, almost teary. And you feel like it was all your fault.

“I do, I do—” you reply in panic as you sit up, wanting nothing more but to bring him close into the comfort of an embrace.

“I will take care of you,” you both say at the same time, leaving both of you stunned.

But without a word, zayne tries sliding his hands underneath your knees, but he hesitates to even touch you again.

So he glances at you, as if asking silently for your permission. And you nod.

He slides his arms underneath your knees and back, carrying you out of this hell hole for maybe... another chance to prove himself. To show you the real Zayne.

[pearlymel]

Trying to love Sylus when he's still in love with mc breaks your heart to the point that you don't care anymore, as long as she's dead and you're not. You're still there for him.

But you know, by the way you secretly watch him reminisce old photos of them together, or how a familiar brooch rolled in between his fingers whenever he seemed to think too deep whenever he wants to be alone. In those moments you know—there was no love purer than his for her.

'You look like her', Luke and Kieran would comment. You curse at yourself, why get with him when you both are just playing with eachother's feelings? You with the attachment issues, and him who goes to you for comfort. It hurts whenever he accidentally calls you by her name, sometimes forgetting to even apologize afterwards.

because you're just living in her shadow, not as you, but as her.

[pearlmoney]

"She didn’t think being dead would be such hard work and so tiring. Valerie never believed in ghosts or heaven or reincarnation or any other fancy ideas people came up with to feel better about the inevitable. She thought that when you die, that’s it. Nothing else. Blackness, emptiness, just resting in the dirt, food for worms. Or dust in an urn."

-Valerie May, The Dead End

[pearlmoney]

The Dead End (snippet)

Valerie carefully waddled behind Poppy though the remains of a city she’s never seen before, taking in her new surroundings.

‘Where is everyone?’ Valerie asked.

‘Down there.’ Poppy pointed down a hill towards what looked like more rubble, ‘It’s worse the higher you are but we managed to make a safe home for us all.’ She said dreamily.

Valerie nodded her head, although Poppy couldn’t see her, ‘Nice.’ She said lastly as to not seem rude. The two of them continued to wander the ruins in quiet, hearing the ambiance of the used-to-be city. Birds chirping out of view, rusted metal creaking in destroyed buildings, the occasional break of glass under Poppy’s boots and Valerie’s slippers, as she was still in her pyjamas she hadn’t changed out of in days. The bright green leaves and flowers of different variants made Valerie feel less afraid. The Afterlife looked almost identical to the overworld. There was no current fire, no one getting tortured in oddly sexual ways. Just a city that was once bustling with life and energy, now reduced to rubble. Valerie felt a kind of sorrow for whoever, or whatever, got caught up in this. But she tried to not dwell on it, as she had no clue what happened.

Poppy continued to swiftly lead Valerie down to her town, only now was it that Valerie realised Poppy was walking on her feet, her skin still shiny and plastic looking. She appeared to look like a ghost of some sorts, with her hollow insides and elegant walk, she could easily pass as your regular thriller movie ghost, haunting an old dirty house scaring delinquent teenagers but she was far from the stereotype. She was a tall black girl who had long goddess braids with small beads and charms all through them. She was oddly thin, but that probably had to do with being dead. Her face was soft and round, an almost perfect canvas of a face, almost no blemishes to be seen, but Valerie was sure that if she got close enough, she’d see her imperfections. 

They continued staggering down the hill, Valerie shadowing behind her new friend, until they were met with a small cliff. Poppy cursed quietly under her breath and began searching for a way down.

‘Can’t we just jump? It doesn’t seem that far.’ Valerie declared, looking down at the drop that, expectedly, led to more rubble. Poppy didn’t answer, instead she continued searching for a safe and easy way to the ground.

Thank you so much for reading this far!! I really hope you enjoyed, if you have any questions, critiques etc. please leave them in the replies or my asks :))

[pearlmoney]

Meet my characters!!

My brother in law (blairyvision on instagram) drew the main characters in my book The Haunting of Miss Caroline Marsden!! so with the art I'll introduce you to my absolute favourite people lol

From left to right: Caroline Marsden, Rose Blum, Wren Lawson and Liv Green

Caroline Marsden: Caroline Marsden is a 26 year old film director and screenplay writer. Born and raised in Britain, she moved to LA with her friend Wren to pursue her career in film making. Caroline always had a deep fascination for each part of making a movie, and knew a fair amount about each aspect that goes into a film. Caroline is a pessimistic, paranoid, and careless person, with little empathy towards others around her with Rose and Wren being the acceptation. Her  family situation is comfortable, she would never say they’re close but she doesn’t think they’re oddly distant. Caroline’s unstable mind and new-found grief is making her living situation harder to maintain along with her relationships, not to mention her house being haunted. (canonically has BPD, NPD, autism)

Rose Blum: Rose Blum was a 26 year old trans and Jewish author, happily wearing her diversity on her sleeve. She died suddenly of cardiac arrest that got her while away on her book tour. She always had a love for writing, indulging in poetry and writing competitions since they were 9. She met Caroline in college and instantly hitting it off, becoming great friends, and soon after, loving partners. Rose was shunned by their family ever since she came out as queer, attempting to flee from home but having nowhere to go. She would only meet with them for special family occasions like weddings and Hanukkah. Rose was a sweet, caring and loved person, who was “gone too soon”. (canonically autistic)

Wren Lawson: Wren Lawson is a 26 year old sex worker from London, who moved to America with his best friend Caroline. Wren has been interested in sex work since he was 17 after sneaking into a strip club and getting high with one of the performers. His family never accepted him for being trans so he usually saw Caroline’s family as his own, but the two of them never saw each other as siblings as they dated briefly in high school. Wren is witty, sarcastic, and unfiltered, all wrapped up into a dirty, punk outfit. (canonically AuDHD)

Lively "Liv"Green: Liv Green is a 23 year old makeup artist from Massachusetts who works for and is friends with Caroline Marsden. Liv began having an interest in makeup when her parents took her to a drag show at 10 years old, since then she has experimented with all kinds of makeup and gets paid generous amounts from many clients in her store. Liv is a naturally beautiful woman who can get by with her looks, although she seems slightly oblivious to how her beauty coasts her through life. She is very close with her family, holding them very close to her heart. Her name is fitting to her personality, a bubbly and outgoing woman who gets along with everyone. (canonically autistic)

[deadendmasongilbert]

Venus walked in ahead of them and went straight to the front desk and rested her elbows on the surface.

The lady behind it looked up at her, instantly frozen in awe. “Hello, how may I help you, sir?”

Valerie and Poppy stood by the door just a little behind. Valerie’s face scrunched. “Sir?”

“Not everyone sees her the same way.” Poppy explained. “That lady must see her as a man, while others see her as a lady, or neither, it just depends.”

Valerie thought for a moment. “What about animals?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Do animals see her as a person or as another animal?” Poppy was perplexed then looked at Valerie. “I’m actually not sure.”

[pearlmoney]

Jester with no makeup (A short story)

“I fear I will die!!” Jester screamed, clawing at their tear drenched face, rolling on the bathroom floor.

“You’re not going to die,” Evelyn assured them. “We can reapply it.”

“Nay!” They sobbed. “I do not recognise that one in the mirror! The one that must be me – it is not!”

Evelyn had convinced Jester to try a proper shower. Yes, it wasn’t a necessary procedure in the Dead End, but they had never had one, so Evelyn lent them the bathroom. And upon Jester’s makeup washing off, they screamed and screamed as if it were their own skin that had peeled. Now, they were writhing along the tiled floors, wailing that they don’t know who they are.

Now that the white, yellow and purple paint was washed away, Evelyn saw the Jester’s pale face. Well, it once was pale, now it was all red from crying.

“Jester,” Evelyn said. “We can put the makeup back on, it’s okay.”

“Madam! You do not understand! I cannot live without my face!”

“Good Lord…” She muttered. “Right, you stay here, I’m going to pick up some facepaint, don’t break yourself or anything.”

She didn’t get a worded response, just more sobs.

When Evelyn got back after twenty minutes in the shopping district, Jester’s crying had not stopped. Great. She walked back into the bathroom, almost flooded with their tears, and sighed.

“Here,” She said, kneeling down to their level, pulling the paint out of the bag. “I’ll put your makeup back on for you, but I need you to calm down so it doesn’t wash off again, okay?”

They sniffled and wiped their face. “Okay.” They replied in a shaky voice. Evelyn helped them up to the bathroom counter, handed them some toilet paper to act as a tissue. Jester loosely wiped away their tears and snot, still hiccuping a little, but Evelyn helped them with their breathing and once the room was quiet, Evelyn began to prepare the makeup.

“Madam?” Jester squeaked.

“Evelyn.” She corrected.

She was ignored. “May I… may I have a hug?”

She stopped, looked at them, their straight, pleading face staring back. She placed the brush down and wrapped her arms around them, stroking their hat soothingly, and Jester returned the embrace. This was actually quite nice.

“Thank you madam.” Jester said as they pulled their arms away, their feet beginning to swing as they sat and waited.

“You are most welcome.” She smiled. “How about that makeup, then?”

“Huzzah!”

“Hold still,” Evelyn murmured, trying to keep her brush strokes clean.

“I am sorry,” Jester said, swaying. “I am just so joyous!”

“Can’t you be joyous and not move? Or be joyous later?”

“Nay!” They replied. “I must always be joyous!”

“I wish we all could,” She said under her breath. Jester jolted again, and Evelyn placed her hand on their shoulders. “Still.”

Jester sagged and stayed very still.

Evelyn did one last stroke of yellow to complete the little triangles on Jester's face, stepped back to observe her work, then nodded. “You can move now.”

Jester jumped off the counter and began to dance. Terribly. “Huzzah!” They cheered. “Let me see myself!”

She lifted them up from under their arms so they could look in the mirror, a wide smile grew. “Huzzah!” They said again, wriggling away from Evelyn and moving to the living room to dance some more.

“No more showers for you, Jester.” Evelyn said, smiling but exhausted, sitting on the couch to watch Jester attempt to dance. At least they were happy.

[pearlmoney]

Small story I'm working on

Priya Foy was a totally normal, run of the mill girl. She did well in most classes in school, excelling in English and art, even got a few awards for it. She never did sports or anything like that, it wasn’t her style. She had friends in school, but she was always known to be quiet and shy, something she never grew out of. Her family, consisting of her mother, father and two sisters, were also totally normal. Her parents never went out of their way to embarrass her in front of people, they knew how to present themselves in public, sharp and clean. Like a knife. 

Priya’s older sister, Dalia, was the star of the family. She was a nurse, she did sports, her wedding was just a few months away and she was already planning for her child.

Priya’s other older sister, Adara, was a little less achieved. Yes, she also did well in school, but it was after high school that she began to go off track. She wanted a less practical way of life, as her parents would say, and chose to be a musician. Her career was still rising, very very slowly, but Adara was very confident in herself. If only her parents shared the sentiment.

And then there was Priya. Who had graduated from college two years ago at the age of 25 and studied to be a librarian. Her whole family questioned her on her choice of work and she had yet to find an answer to satisfy them.

The reason she chose to be a librarian was because of the quiet, calm atmosphere. The orderly nature of a library building, the books, the community. She just wanted to dedicate her time to a house of knowledge and files and silence. Well, soft whispers. And anyone she told this to would never agree with her reasoning. They all called her antisocial, which wasn’t completely false, or boring. She didn’t agree with them, she didn’t need to. She knew what she wanted, and that was good enough for her.

Recently, Priya had been in her apartment, a small cosy home filled with warm toned colours and second hand paintings. It was clean and everything had its own place, perfectly laid out to function properly in Priya’s life, just how she liked it. While she was sitting on her couch, feet up and laying back, she got a call on her phone. A nice lady, older, had delivered the good news that Priya had been selected to take the role of Head Librarian at her local library, Ethel Minchin Library. Priya had never felt such excitement, such proudness. She was fulfilling her own dreams, and that was all she ever wanted to do. She told her family and as they congratulated her she couldn’t feel any kind of happiness coming off of her peers.

And now, there she stood. Outside the doors of the Ethel Minchin Library, bag over her shoulder, smile on her face, about to start her first day.

[deadendmasongilbert]

Venus’s wrists were tied with a thick red ribbon as she sat on the plush couch. Josie was cleaning up the scratches Venus had left on Sam's arms and bandaging it, they didn’t seem too fussed about getting hit and thrown around, maybe they just had a mild headache. Sam sighed as he pulled his sleeves down over his new bandages, and strided over to Venus, looming over her.

“I’d like you to explain why you did all that.” He said. Venus could hear the lingering pain in his voice, making his words a little strained.

Venus said nothing, she didn’t even look at him.

Josephine kicked her shin, “Answer him!” She demanded.

Venus lifted her head, very slowly, and looked at Josie with narrow eyes, “I’m sorry, Josephine, I remember you telling me not to talk to him.”

Josephine readied herself to lunge at Venus, but Sam placed a hand on her shoulder.

“I thought you wanted this soul just as much as us,” Sam continued, “So why did you try stop us?”

“The Grim Reaper, Poppy, she’s my friend, and Valerie is her friend,” Venus’ voice was sharp, “I can’t let her die, you can’t do that.” “We do what we want,” Samuel said, amusement in his voice, “It don’t matter who’s life gets put in harm's way, as long as we get what we want!”

“You’re sick.” Venus spat.

“Maybe I am,” He turned his head to the side, “But in a world like this… you gotta be. How far have you come, being all nice?”

Venus bristled, “I have family, I have friends, I have a nice house and I live comfortably. Treating those around me with respect has gotten me far.” “And we don’t have all that?”

“I don’t want to be nice, Samuel, I really don’t. I have fires inside me that wish to burn but I’ve been cursed with constant rain. I don’t like you, I don’t like your girlfriend, but I am forced to be with you and tolerate you because going against your words pains me. As much as I’d like to rip you limb from limb right now, I’d much rather kiss and make up. So please, untie me, and we can forget all this.”

Samuel observed her, she saw his cheeks grow a soft shade of pink and he grunted, moving away from her.

“Untie her.” He mumbled to Josie.

“What?” She barked, “She’s coming with us?”

“Josie, just do it.” He rubbed his temple, sighing. 

Josephine, with visible anger, untied the ribbon around Venus’ wrists and moved to a corner to sulk. 

Venus rubbed her wrists, trying to get the feeling back in her hands, “Thank you.” She said softly.

Sam walked to the door holding everyone else, “Just come on.”