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frostedfragments · 2 days ago

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exclusive tutorial drabble: mc is ovulating and decides to visit her bf at work warnings: semi-public sex, oral (m receiving), unprotected sex, desk sex, zayne manages not to cum in his pants this time! claps for zayne!! note: i have no other explaination other than i am ovulating...and i remember someone on ao3 or on here wanted to see et!zayne react to a blow job so here u go! also i wrote this on my phone at 3am so pls if there are errors....ignore

Zayne knows from the moment you slink into his office that you’re up to something. You’re looking at him with bright, dilated eyes and a flush in your face that he knows far better than he ever thought he would.

His hand lifts off the mouse as you close the door behind you, a soft click signalling to him that you’ve no intention of leaving soon.

“Hey, you okay, beautiful?”

He’s working late, again, and he hates that you’ve had to come all the way into the city, to the hospital to see him. He feels like he hasn’t seen you properly in days between your work schedule and his. The last time he spent a night with you was when the two of you watched a sad movie about a dog and you cried into his chest for an hour afterward, a hot water bottle clutched to your stomach.

Now, this is a side to his girlfriend he knows very well, but he is uber aware of the fact it’s only five PM and he has a surgery scheduled in thirty minutes.

“No, I missed you,” You reply as you round the desk, stopping by his chair. His instinct is to reach out and take your hand, so he does, kissing your palm in apology for not being home to see you more this week.

You smile, but there’s something that flares in your gaze, something that has Zayne’s stomach warming dangerously.

“_____ -“

“I’m ovulating,”

He blinks, lips parting at the frankness of your tone, and he frowns a little, “Oh, I see,”

He’s a doctor, and also not an idiot, he knows exactly what you’re telling him. What he doesn’t know is how he’s gonna take care of your problem while he’s in his office, minutes from going into a surgery that won’t have him home for hours.

“I’m working, my love,” He says softly, hoping it’ll soften the blow, “you know I’d love nothing more than to carry you home to bed myself but I only have thirty minutes -“

“That’s fine,” You say, plopping your bag on the table before moving his chair so he is facing you properly. He is about to protest when you drop to your knees in front of him, “I only need ten,”

All coherent thought and the entire catalogue of speech trickles from his mind and out of his ears as he gazes down at you kneeling between his legs. Your hands are already on his belt, tugging and pulling it free, and he can’t hide the erection that stiffens down one side of his slacks, hot along his thigh.

His hand reaches out to grip your wrist, stilling the movements, and he briefly hesitates, a reluctance to stop you gripping him in a weak hand. You’ve never done this, never had your mouth on his cock for longer than a few seconds, and by the flinty determination in your eyes as you stare up at him, you have no intention of letting Zayne move you away this time.

“____,” He sighs, hardly sounding convincing to his own ears, his hand is already loosening its grip on you, and you tilt your head coyly.

“You don’t want me to suck it?”

If he wasn’t hard before, he certainly is now. He swallows hard, glancing at the door as your wrist falls from his grip and you quickly resume your work of undoing his slacks and slipping into the waistband of his briefs. He’s a weak little man, so desperate for every inch of you. He’s had you in more ways than he can count in the few months the two of you have been dating officially, and Zayne isn’t sure it’ll ever be enough. To cross this final line, to have your pretty red lips wrapped around him, he’s not sure he’ll survive it.

Your hand is firm, gripping his cock and pumping it a couple of times, a ragged sigh falling from Zayne’s lips. He’s never fucked in his office before, but the image before him is more familiar than he would like to admit. He can’t quite believe one of his most sordid and frequent dreams is coming true.

Your hot breath lingers for barely a moment before your warm, wet mouth is on him, tongue laving at his slit. His eyes roll back as his body becomes boneless in the desk chair, hands white-knuckled on the plastic arms.

“Jesus…fuck, baby - just like that -“ His voice sounds reedy and breathless, cock twitching in your grip as your hand pumps the couple inches you can’t quite reach. For your first time, this is unreal, and Zayne is slowly losing his mind with the way you bob your head in his lap like you’re as hungry for him as he is for you.

He’s constantly on the verge of coming when you’re touching him, or under him, sometimes even when you look at him. Most times you only have to glance at him across his apartment with heat in your eyes before he’s got you bent over the dining table within a few minutes.

You’re moaning, enjoying him just as much as he enjoys you, your thighs spread wide on the carpet, a hand snaking beneath your skirt. He knows the moment you slip your fingers against your clit by the way your lashes flutter, eyes flicking up to gaze at him. You remind him of a succubus, like in one of the weird, animated porn videos his friends used to show him in college - eyes heavy-lidded, long lashes fanning over your cheekbones as your plush lips surround his dick. You look at him as if you’re about to suck out his soul through his cock, and he doesn’t have to think twice about whether or not he would let you if it was possible.

“I wanna come inside you -“ He pants, already knowing he’s too close, far too close, and he’s thankful that you’re touching yourself so he can lose himself in you. He’s not sure he has the time to get you wet and ready for him, and he has a feeling he won’t have to. You grunt in protest when he pulls you off him, his slacks falling to his knees when he stands to drag you up and push you down so you’re bent over, sprawled on his desk like every fantasy he’s ever had come to life. He tugs to your skirt, tugging your thong down to your knees, your round ass bare for his hands to wander. If he had the time he would enjoy the view before him a little longer, explore every sweet inch of you. He’s blessed by the sight of your damp pussy, pink and ready for him, and he slips in a finger if only to hear you sigh.

“So good at sucking my cock, beautiful girl,” His voice is nothing but a rasp against your ear, digging deep until you moan, a needy, keening sound that has him glancing up at the door again. Your wetness is already leaking out around his digit, his fingers slick as they noisily pump in and out. Zayne can’t help but wrap his hand around his dick, feeling it pulse in his palm. He thinks fast, covering your lips with his palm as another groan builds in your throat, “Who does this cock belong to, huh?”

“Me,” Is your muffled reply, and he huffs out a laugh, pulling his fingers from your tight, wet entrance.

He positions himself against you, his shirt nearly soaked through with sweat as his hand trembles against your hip, “That’s fucking right. It’s yours. All yours,” and he slides home. You groan against his palm, hands sliding on the glass surface as Zayne begins to drill into you, a quick, steady pace that has the photos of the two of you beginning to jostle on the desk..

He glances up at the door again, the frosted glass showing nothing to the corridor outside, and yet a sick thrill rushes down his spine as he silently hopes someone knows that you walked your beautiful ass in here simply to spread your legs for him, and that he’s the one getting to fuck you over his desk. Nobody else.

He manages a few more hard thrusts before you tense, a garbled moan against his palm before you tighten up on him like a dream. The clench of your pussy sets off his own orgasm, one that leaves his thighs trembling. He’s panting, laying over your back and softening inside you when his pager beeps - time for his surgery.

He’s not even sure he can walk, never mind stand for the next six hours.

You wiggle under him, glancing over your shoulder before he drops a wet kiss on your neck.

“Thanks for seeing me on such short notice, Dr Zayne,” You giggle, and Zayne smiles as he presses another kiss into your hair.

#icymi

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frostedfragments · 2 days ago

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why’s zayne’s new card got that stupid flower in the way like i wanna see him put his tongue in mc’s mouth MOVE

#we’ve had zayne throwing shit off the table and practically humping the shit out of mc on that rocking chair #but a bit of tongue is too much BFFRRRRRE

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frostedfragments · 2 days ago

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♤ 𝐫𝐚𝐟𝐚𝐲𝐞𝐥!𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐞𝐱𝐭𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐬 ♤ 𝐩𝐭. 𝟐

#JSJDJDJDKDJ #the boyfriend one is making me scream #rafayel

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frostedfragments · 3 days ago

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@nashusglasses ur tags make me scream laugh 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😙😙😙😙😙😙 ily

His hand lifts off the mouse as you close the door behind you, a soft click signalling to him that you’ve no intention of leaving soon.

“Hey, you okay, beautiful?”

Now, this is a side to his girlfriend he knows very well, but he is uber aware of the fact it’s only five PM and he has a surgery scheduled in thirty minutes.

You smile, but there’s something that flares in your gaze, something that has Zayne’s stomach warming dangerously.

“_____ -“

“I’m ovulating,”

He blinks, lips parting at the frankness of your tone, and he frowns a little, “Oh, I see,”

“I’m working, my love,” He says softly, hoping it’ll soften the blow, “you know I’d love nothing more than to carry you home to bed myself but I only have thirty minutes -“

“____,” He sighs, hardly sounding convincing to his own ears, his hand is already loosening its grip on you, and you tilt your head coyly.

“You don’t want me to suck it?”

“Me,” Is your muffled reply, and he huffs out a laugh, pulling his fingers from your tight, wet entrance.

He’s not even sure he can walk, never mind stand for the next six hours.

You wiggle under him, glancing over your shoulder before he drops a wet kiss on your neck.

“Thanks for seeing me on such short notice, Dr Zayne,” You giggle, and Zayne smiles as he presses another kiss into your hair.

#conk and peenits party in dr zayne’s office

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frostedfragments · 3 days ago

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exclusive tutorial ✧.* zayne x reader ✧.* 4.5k words ✧.* friends to lovers summary: you ask zayne to teach you how to kiss warnings!: messy kissing, dry humping, fingering, zayne cums in his pants lol, touch starved!zayne note: this came to me in a dream. im kidding. im just horny for pathetic zayne note2: part 2 is here

divider cred. @enchanthings-a

Zayne is in his office reviewing a recent surgery when you come barging into his office one Friday afternoon.

Windswept and pink-cheeked, you look radiant and it takes a few moments of blinking away the lingering text printed on his vision for him to realise you’re speaking.

“Did you hear me?” You sound…nervous, almost, which is out of character for someone who routinely interrupts his working day to sit in his office and drop bagel crumbs all over his carpet. Your eyes drift around the room, flying over his features for a beat before you’re looking away again, and it’s intoxicating, for some reason, to see you shy around him. Usually he’s the one who’s hesitant, too weary to blur the line between your friendship and the depraved, desperate thoughts he has about you when he’s alone in his apartment.

There’s a well-buried part of Zayne that chooses to file away that coy expression on your face for such a moment.

Glancing back to the screen of his computer, he continues typing, correctly assuming you will fall into your regular pattern and plop yourself on his desk any moment now.

It takes you three seconds to do exactly that as he speaks, “No, I didn’t. It’s almost as if I’m working right now,”

One of his favourite things to do is tease you, to have your nose scrunch in annoyance when he plays dumb on purpose, or when he pretends he doesn’t want you around. The secret he keeps locked up tight is that he wants you near him all the time, his hands itch with it. He notices you stick your tongue out at him from the corner of his eye, and he has to suppress the twitch of his lips. You’re back to your old self for only a moment before you seem to remember what it is you wanted to ask him.

“I have a date,”

It’s not a question, though it doesn’t really matter. The corner of Zayne’s brain that, eons ago, would have demanded he hammer his fists on his chest or pee on the desk to assert dominance takes over for a millisecond as he files through a dozen different scenarios which all seem wildly inappropriate for the news he’s just received. As usual, he manages to tame his base urges when it comes to you, and he nods, calm and cool as a cucumber.

Of course, this isn’t the first time you’ve dated. Zayne has known you since he was eight, and you were six. It’s not like he hasn’t witnessed this before; for a long time the concept of you with other boys never bothered him. At least not until the two of you hit puberty and he started taking note of all the ways in which you were different; softer, sweeter, prettier. Since then, it’s been a part of your friendship he likes to ignore.

Except when you force him to confront it, that is.

“Very good,” He speaks around a sudden tightness in his throat, feigning sarcasm if only to distract by the sudden grip of panic on his chest, “I’m thrilled you decided to come to my place of work to inform me,”

“Zayne,” The way you whine his name has his thighs tensing under the desk, and he really wishes you wouldn’t do that. He mentally files that away for later too.

He sighs softly, taking his hands away from the keyboard and turning his body just enough so that you know you have his complete attention. As if you don’t have it all the time anyway.

“What is it?”

“I have a date,”

His hand clenches, “I heard,”

Inhaling deeply, you let out a breath like you’re about to confess something. The soft, pink flush on your cheeks deepens slightly and you start doing that thing again where you look anywhere but at him, “I wanted to ask if you would help me with something,”

“Anything,” He says, because it’s true. He almost wants to wince at how desperate to please you he is, but as usual, he stays neutral.

“I…ahh,” You bite your lip, and another year is shaved off of Zayne’s life, “I wanted to ask if you would teach me…hosjskkss,”

He frowns as you trail off, speaking the rest into your chest as you tilt your head down. Your cheeks are glowing pink now.

“What was that?”

“Teachmehowtokiss,” You respond, lifting your head slightly but still refusing to look at him, not that it matters. Zayne is convinced his physical form no longer exists and he’s now a pile of ash and glasses on the desk chair.

He swallows hard, needing the extra moisture in his mouth, speaking in the monotone of someone who’s just had a major brain injury, “You want me to teach you how to kiss,”

It takes a couple seconds, but you nod before squeaking and covering your face with your hands, speaking muffled through the sleeves of your hoodie, “I’ve never…ugh! This is so embarrassing. Maybe I should ask Caleb- “

“I’ll do it,” Zayne speaks so fast he almost leaps forward over the desk to stop the rest of that sentence from leaving your lips. He is selfish, and clearly has no regard for his own mental state, but like hell is he gonna let Caleb put his grubby paws on you.

You meet his gaze with wide, impossibly pretty eyes, and something throbs deep in Zayne’s gut. He thinks he might do just about anything to keep you looking at him like that.

“You mean it? You don’t think it’ll be…” You shrug, “weird?”

Weird is the last word Zayne would use to describe how kissing you would be, but he can’t think of any others right now, so he just shakes his head.

“It’ll be fine,” His voice is scratchy, and he clears it twice, just to have the words coming out sounding the same, “I get off work at seven. You can come over, or we could…”

He’s unsure where exactly you want to do this, but the prospect of kissing you in his office and then driving home with his cock hard as steel sounds unappealing.

“I’ll come over,” You say, voice a little dazed and your cheeks still pink, “see you later, Zayne,”

There’s a good few seconds between when you knock on Zayne’s door to when he opens it that you’re almost positive you’ve made a mistake.

Because really, what were you thinking? Second only to Caleb, Zayne is your oldest friend, and now you’re probably going to implode the friendship by locking lips with him. Of course, there’s no guarantee that you’ll have to actually kiss him to learn how to kiss, but it’s implied. And the implication is enough to have your stomach in knots.

Maybe Caleb would have been the better choice; a little more laid back, less likely to make a big deal out of the whole thing. Not that Zayne would hold it over you, or anything. The reason you’d asked him, stupidly, was because he’s a doctor. He’s good at removing emotions from certain situations. As if that matters at all…you swear it made sense in your head at the time, but now as Zayne swings open the door wearing a grey sweater and black sweatpants, you wonder if running is an option.

“Hey,” He says, his expression giving nothing away about whether or not he feels as awkward as you do. Sweat gathers at the base of your spine as you step inside, unconsciously inhaling that expensive cologne he wears; woodsy and addictive. He smells like a hot, rich man - which he is. Rich, anyway.

You’ve never really thought of Zayne as hot, more…devastatingly handsome. The kind of handsome that makes you think of princes in fairy tales, or the hot guys you see in k-dramas or something.

He closes the door and stands in the entryway, watching you from behind his glasses with a slight tilt to his head, “You okay?”

“Great. Never better,” You sound like an idiot, and you sweat again when Zayne’s lips tip up into a soft smile, his eyes getting that far away, dreamy look that makes you feel like a teenager around her crush.

Which obviously you’re not…you don’t have a crush, and you’re twenty-five.

Twenty-five and yet you still don’t know how to kiss.

Zayne takes your jacket, and like usual, you sit on the sofa, pulling your legs under you as you watch him move around the kitchen. He opens a cabinet, pulls out two glasses and brings them over, along with your usual bottle of wine. It’s tradition, routine, almost, and yet it makes you feel warm. Your stomach dips as he strolls over, so…big.

How had you never noticed how large he was? Sure, you noticed but you’ve never noticed. His build is large and yet he doesn’t appear bulky beneath his sweater, his collarbones jut just above the neckline and for an insane moment, your fingers tingle with the urge to touch them.

You stuff your hands beneath your thigh and keep them sandwiched there, unsure what to do with them for the time being.

“Do you want to watch a movie?” Zayne asks, his voice soft as if always is, and for a second you forget all about the kissing lesson and just enjoy the company of your friend.

“Um, sure,”

He shifts a little, lips downturned before his eyes dart away, “Unless you wanted to get straight to the- “

“The movie is good for now,” You smile probably a little too widely at him, and you wonder if you look insane.

He levels you with a look, as if he sees through you, and it makes you want to squirm under his gaze, “We don’t have to do anything you’re uncomfortable with, ___,”

He looks away before you do, moving to pour you a glass of red wine and you take it eagerly, as if it’s a lifeline. Surely after a glass you’ll feel a little less…like this. Jittery, achy, sweaty - as if there’s a thousand little feathers brushing your skin every time he glances your way.

This has never happened before, this awkward energy. With Zayne you’ve always felt safe, relaxed, and you never had to worry about whether or not your hair looks good, or if you have spinach in your teeth. He has always been a comfort blanket for you, but now with the thoughts of kissing on your mind, you can’t seem to relax. Your brain files through all the scenarios it can generate; will he kiss you soft? Slow? Will he put his hands on your face, or your waist, or in your hair? What does he normally do when he kisses women?

“When is the date?” Zayne asks, not looking at you and instead focusing on the tv, trying to find something mindless for the two of you to watch before you begin. His voice sounds scratchy, as if he’s coming down with something, but you get distracted once the movie starts and he sits back against the sofa, turning to look at you with an unreadable expression.

“Tomorrow night,” You reply. It’s a co-worker who asked you, a nice, good-looking guy who works in the office above yours. He offered to take you for food and it’s been so long since you dated, Simone convinced you to say yes, “We’re just getting food,”

Zayne nods, though he doesn’t look away, “So you’re already planning to kiss him? He must be quite the catch,” That odd look is still there in the depths of his eyes - moss green with a hint of amber.

“Wh- uh, yeah. Maybe, I don’t know,” You shrug, looking down into your wine, “I just think that it’s kinda embarrassing that I haven’t kissed anyone yet,”

“Nothing about you is embarrassing,” He replies so fast it catches you off guard, and when you glance up at him, the tips of his ears have gone pink. There’s a tension in his shoulders as he looks at you, almost easy to miss if you didn’t know him so well.

The two of you sink into a comfortable silence after that, both watching the movie and laughing when the girl on the plane starts insulting the air steward. After a while you’ve relaxed somewhat, only one glass into the wine, you’re back to your factory settings, awkwardness gone as you slouch into the sofa, your shoulder pressed against Zayne’s.

It’s when the character on the screen kisses the love interest before the credits roll that you remember why you came. You lift your head from where it had fallen against the sofa and you turn to find Zayne already looking at you, that strange look on his face again. Your lips roll inward as you look at him, your eyes flitting unwillingly from his mouth and back again twice before you look away, embarrassed.

Zayne’s hand reaches out to grasp yours, and his voice is rumbly and warm when he speaks, “Do you want to go?”

“No,” You swing your head around to face him, almost too fast, “I…ah, I’m just nervous,”

He keeps watching you for a moment longer before he shifts, turning so he’s facing you fully on the sofa, “It’s only me,”

“Yeah, but I’ve never kissed you,”

“You said you’ve never kissed anyone,” He tilts his head again, “Why don’t you take the lead? I’ll stay here like this,”

He remains still, not rigid, but relaxed. More relaxed than you feel as you mimic his posture, turning so you’re fully facing him. He’s backlit by the floor-to-ceiling windows, the golden summer sunset, and you feel an unfamiliar dip in your stomach again.

He’s watching you, cheeks a little rosy from the wine, and his lips are stained to match. You linger on them for a moment, licking the red wine taste off your own and wondering briefly if he will taste like you. You must be taking too long, because he shifts again, and a pillow finds its way into his lap. His eyes are dark, pupils blown wide, and you feel as if you’re exposed.

The way Zayne is looking at you is nothing like any of the other times you’ve noticed him staring; his jaw is tense, eyes darting all over your face, he almost looks quietly angry, but you know that can’t be it.

“____?”

“Sorry,” You exhale softly, shuffling so you’re on your knees. It’s better this way - now you’re eye-to-eye with Zayne, though it makes that feeling in your stomach even worse.

Before you can think otherwise, you place your hands on his shoulders, briefly noting the way they tense and then relax. You mean to lean forward, but Zayne’s eyes have you feeling like a mouse caught in a trap

“Can you close your eyes?” You ask, and his lips twitch, but he does as you ask, his eyes sliding closed. His black lashes fan along his cheekbones, and you almost want to sigh wistfully - he really is handsome.

The second attempt is more successful without Zayne’s intense gaze, and you lean toward him, moving until your noses bump together and Zayne exhales softly against your lips.

There’s a sharp, warm press in your lower stomach, as if your body is just now realising what you’re doing. The feel of Zayne’s soft breaths against your lips is maddening; you’re hot all over, and it’s sudden, out of nowhere. The hands on his shoulder’s clench as your fingers dig in, and before you can chicken out, you’re pressing your lips to his.

He is going to explode, or come, either way it’s taking every ounce of restraint Zayne has to let you take the lead, to get used to him and this new, terrifying step in your friendship. His stomach drops like he’s on a rollercoaster, hands clenched over the pillow hiding his obvious erection that reared its head the moment he saw your pupils dilate.

Your lips are soft, warm as you press gently against him. He wishes kissing with his eyes open was socially acceptable because he hates that he can’t see you, that he can’t get a front row seat of you on his couch, hands gripping his shoulders, lips against his. For a long moment, you don’t move, you just stay like this, and Zayne can’t bring himself to complain. But, you tilt your head slightly, pushing your lips against his harder, and he feels his cock twitch impatiently.

Inexperience isn’t usually something that turns him on - frankly, the idea of deflowering someone has him coming out in a rash. It’s not that he thinks he’s bad at kissing, or sex, but the expectations put upon him are dizzying. He wants to make this kiss good for you, even while an animal part of him thrashes against its restraints, begging him to ruin you for any other man. His hands fist against the pillow in his crotch, and when you pull away, he almost groans at the loss of contact.

Zayne is the first to open his eyes, just a second before you, but it’s enough. Your lips aren’t well-kissed, not by his standards, but he can spot the signs of arousal a mile away. Your cheeks are flushed a gorgeous shade of pink, your lips even deeper, and when you let your tongue dart out to wet them just before opening your eyes, he feels a sharp punch of need deep in his stomach.

You exhale shakily against his lips, and he can feel his restraint fraying at the seams. He wants you so badly he feels as if he could come just from the way you’re gazing blearily at his lips, as if you’re drunk on him. It’s a maddening rush to his ego, to see you so undone after barely kissing him, and he can’t stop himself from lifting a hand, cupping your chin and brushing his thumb along your lower lip.

“Was that okay?” You ask him, voice thick with something he is too chicken-shit to name, for fear that he will actually pick you up and fuck you into his couch.

He swallows hard, licking the taste of your lip balm off his lips, “Y-yeah. It was,”

This is it, he thinks, this is all you wanted from him, and it’s more than enough. More than he ever expected when it came to you. Even a chaste, soft kiss is enough to give him material to jerk off to for the rest of the year like the desperate man you’ve turned him into. But the tender, hesitancy of the moment lasts only a few seconds before you speak again, obliterating his final shred of sanity.

“Can we do it again?”

He should say no. You have a date planned, you’re his best friend in the whole world, and he made peace long ago with the fact he was destined to want you from afar. The unrequited nature of his feelings and his desires have always been somewhat safe for him, something he can use to control himself around you, but to hear you ask him for more of his lips on yours awakens something hot and vicious in his gut.

He doesn’t really reply, too dumbstruck to speak, and you gaze up at him with dark eyes, dangerously eager eyes, your voice barely above a whisper, “Will you kiss me this time? Like you do with other women?”

The mere thought of it has the tip of his cock growing slick, need curling in his stomach, worming its way around the base of his spine as he tenses. But, he’s not as strong as he thought he was, because within two seconds he’s nodding, leaning in and groaning all in one breath, his lips catching yours in a real kiss. Your hands fist the material of his sweater, tugging him closer, and he loses it, brain splattered against his skull. Now, there is only you and him and this pulsing desire he has to tuck you against his body and make you feel just how bad he’s wanted you.

His hands find your soft waist, palming the dip and clutching hard enough for your t-shirt to rise up a little. The sliver of skin brushing against his pinky does insane things to his psyche, and he pulls you, knocking away the pillow in his lap and pressing you there instead. You gasp into his mouth and he wants to snarl into the kiss, wants to make you understand.

Do you feel how bad I need you? Can you feel how hot and hard and aching I am?

Your body is like heaven in his arms, and he suddenly realises he could die happy now, knowing intimately how the weight of you feels in his lap, pressing against his cock, knees on either side of his hips. A soft moan against his lips has him bucking up against you, thankful for your choice to wear a skirt so he has access to the warmest, wettest part of you instantly. He yearns, needs and wants like he’s never wanted anything. He wants to rake his nails up your thighs, push aside your underwear and run his fingers through the mess he hopes he’ll find there. The mess he put there, he realises, and he growls into the kiss at the thought.

“Zayne,” You whimper, whining like you did earlier in his office, and he can’t help but smile at the sound. He’s fucked his own hand to your voice more times than he wants to admit, and now he leaks against his sweatpants, drunk on the way you’re babbling in his arms, your lips wet from his spit and is tongue as it laves them, eagerly asking entrance into your mouth.

“Open for me, beautiful. Open your mouth for me,” Zayne’s voice is almost unrecognisable to his own ears, a soft, firm rumble. When you do as he asks, he lets his hands drift down to your hips, pushing and pulling you along the ridge in his pants as his tongue brushes yours.

It’s messy, and you’re not sure what you’re doing, that much is evident, but it doesn’t even matter. He wants every inch of you messy over him, wants to keep this lesson going until you leave his apartment with the knowledge of how Zayne kisses you, and no one else. He wants you to be as gone for him as he is for you, as he always has been.

You’re lost on him now, hips moving of their own accord, and Zayne thinks that if he can make you come, he will take that as his greatest accomplishment in life. Forget med school, forget every surgery he completed that others failed. All he cares about is the sounds falling from your lips, the way your fingers have threaded through his hair, the fact his apartment is filled with the sounds of your kisses, of your panting breaths, his deep groans as you rock against him. Nothing else matters.

His name falls from your lips again, like you’re asking for something, but you don’t know what. He pulls away from your slick, swollen lips only to run his tongue up your neck, relishing in the way you tremble against him.

“What is it, ___? What do you need?” He rasps against your ear, “You need me to make you come?”

You nod eagerly, clutching him tight enough that he feels flames roaring up his spine. He isn’t gonna last much longer with you riding him like this, and like hell is he gonna come without taking care of you first.

“Okay,” He breathes, winded and totally out of his depth. He’s never lost control like this, never had his hands shake with it, but he takes a deep, steadying breath, “Okay,”

His hand brushes your thigh and you sigh, the sound falling into a moan as you continue to roll your hips in circles, so hard that Zayne’s eyes roll back before he grips your skin, pushing up your skirt until he finds the spot he wants. You gasp, breath ragged where you kiss and lick his jaw, and he groans deep in his throat when he finds just what he’d hoped for.

“So fucking wet,” He murmurs, dazed and drunk off of you, “You got this wet from me kissing you, huh?” He knows damn well he was doing more than just kiss you, but he doesn’t correct himself. Instead, he palms your damp underwear, pressing against the material so he can feel the contours of your pussy. He uses his fingers to push the material aside, mouth watering when he drags his fingers through the center of you, “God, fuck,”

“Please,” You whisper, “Please, please -”

“Shh, beautiful,” He presses a soft kiss to the juncture where your neck meets your shoulder, a polar opposite to the kisses he’d given you a moment ago, “I’ve got you, okay? Does it hurt?” He doesn’t know why he asks, maybe because he’s so hard beneath you that he’s beginning to see double.

“So bad,” You sob into his shoulder, rocking your hips against his fingers as he continues to explore you, avoiding the spot where you need him and just enjoying the wet, silky, warmth of you. When you whisper again, so soft he barely hears you begging him, he smiles, out of his mind with it. He wants you to beg, and so he fucks his fingers into your soft, pliant pussy until you cry out. “Oh, god! Oh, please, please - t-there, yes. Yes -”

“Holy fuck,” He murmurs as you tighten up on him, squeezing so hard he can hear the wet squelch as he attempts to carry on thrusting his middle and ring fingers into you, eager to feel it. He blearily wonders what you would feel like coming on his cock before he loses the battle against his oncoming orgasm, coming wetly against the material of his sweatpants. “Oh fuck, shit,”

You’re still shaking when he pulls his fingers out of you, your head laying on his shoulder. He hadn’t noticed the room get darker as the sun finally set, but now the two of you are alone in the glow of the tv, still stuck and waiting on the netflix homepage. The only sound in the room is your collective breathing, soft pants as you catch your breaths.

Zayne’s mind clears once the cloud of lust dissipates, and he feels a cold stab of fear deep in the centre of his chest. He’s ruined it, he thinks, he’s lost you forever. You’re going to leave and it’s going to be awkward, and why couldn’t he just keep his damn hands off of you -

“Zayne?” You whisper, breath ghosting over his collarbones.

He audibly swallows, closing his eyes in preparation for the words. We shouldn’t have done that, this was a mistake…

“Yes?”

You shuffle against him, like maybe your foot is falling to sleep in the awkward position you’re in, but you make no effort to move. When you do speak, your voice is shy, if a little hoarse, but oh, so sweet.

“You’re a really good kisser,”

The cold icy dread Zayne had been waiting in cracks, and warm seeps in. He huffs a laugh, wrapping his arms around you and pressing his lips to your hair.

#anyone who’s new here and doesn’t know what my newest drabble is referring to….#icymi

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frostedfragments · 3 days ago

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[about to give you head] [doesn't know how to talk dirty at all] umm the huge cock store called they said they want this back

#mc in the fic idea ive got for xavier......

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frostedfragments · 3 days ago

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His hand lifts off the mouse as you close the door behind you, a soft click signalling to him that you’ve no intention of leaving soon.

“Hey, you okay, beautiful?”

Now, this is a side to his girlfriend he knows very well, but he is uber aware of the fact it’s only five PM and he has a surgery scheduled in thirty minutes.

You smile, but there’s something that flares in your gaze, something that has Zayne’s stomach warming dangerously.

“_____ -“

“I’m ovulating,”

He blinks, lips parting at the frankness of your tone, and he frowns a little, “Oh, I see,”

“I’m working, my love,” He says softly, hoping it’ll soften the blow, “you know I’d love nothing more than to carry you home to bed myself but I only have thirty minutes -“

“____,” He sighs, hardly sounding convincing to his own ears, his hand is already loosening its grip on you, and you tilt your head coyly.

“You don’t want me to suck it?”

“Me,” Is your muffled reply, and he huffs out a laugh, pulling his fingers from your tight, wet entrance.

He’s not even sure he can walk, never mind stand for the next six hours.

You wiggle under him, glancing over your shoulder before he drops a wet kiss on your neck.

“Thanks for seeing me on such short notice, Dr Zayne,” You giggle, and Zayne smiles as he presses another kiss into your hair.

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace fanfic #love and deepspace ff #lads ff #zayne x you #zayne x mc #zayne x reader #zayne ff #zayne fanfic

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