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plutotheplum · 28 days ago

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ᡣ𐭩 zayne | scrubs ᡣ𐭩

cw: vaginal fingering, p in v, finger sucking

zayne has an inkling that you have some sort of obsession with his scrubs.

he doesn’t exactly know why, but there’s been too many instances of you ogling him in his scrubs for him to pass as simple coincidences. the first time, he’d just finished up in surgery, the complications making it run longer than most, his body weighed down by exhaustion that he’d simply decided to return to his office, without changing. he hadn’t expected to find waiting for him was you, a cute, little bento box clutched in your hands, wrapped up in a snow-patterned cloth.

he’d been thankful, he always is, what kind of boyfriend would he be otherwise?

but you hadn’t smiled at him that night, instead stared at him blankly with wide eyes and parted lips. he’d tried talking to you, but it was as though your mind was preoccupied, your gaze solely fixated on his scrubs, every flex of his lithe fingers as he’d undone the knot of the cloth. zayne thinks he might’ve heard your breath catch when he sat down in his chair, his thighs spreading slightly to get comfortable, scrubs pulling over his thighs a little.

you’d excused yourself with a flustered air, not without kissing him, however, the movement of your lips a little too desperate for him to consider normal, the scrape of your teeth against his lips enough to have him readjusting his half-hard cock in the privacy of his office.

the next few times it happens, zayne can’t help but be intrigued.

you’re handsy, the desire in your eyes barely concealed, the press of your thighs hard to miss when he spins a pen between his fingers, pretending to think. but it’s not his scrubs only, his glasses seem to have some hold over you too.

like when his glasses slide too low on the slope of his nose and he pushes them up, zayne can spy the way you bite your lip, your hand curling into a fist on your lap. he wishes you’d just act on your urges, but all he gets are eager, little kisses, your hands drifting over his chest for a moment before you pull back with a sweet smile and a kiss to his cheek and say you’ll be waiting for him at home.

he can’t have that. when grayson mentions next month’s observational surgery for medical interns, zayne knows exactly what to do.

one call later to akso hospital’s chief of surgery, with the promise of attending whatever upcoming medical conference is next, he’s managed to get you a front row seat.

zayne hopes it’s enough to make you finally snap.

you don’t know how you’ve managed to find yourself here.

you thought observing surgeries was strictly for residents and interns, but apparently the invitation extends to doting girlfriends too. to your mortification, you think zayne might be catching onto your blatant, although extremely appreciative, ogling of him in his scrubs. which is why you’re sitting here now, perched on a metal bench, watching as your boyfriend’s gloves slip on, a mask covering the lower half of face.

aortic aneurysm, grayson had mentioned.

any longer and you may as well have had an aneurysm yourself.

you can hardly sit still, teeth sinking into your lower lip as zayne’s low, commanding voice comes through the speaker, narrating the surgery with precision. you shouldn’t be feeling this way, thighs pressing together under your skirt as you listen to his voice, watching the way he works, completely in his element with such professionalism that has you feeling hot and entirely too bothered.

which is probably why you’re pawing at his broad shoulders and pulling him down with a rough tug, lips pressing against his in a feverish kiss the moment he’s out of the operating theatre.

“sorry,” you whisper against his lips, “you just- you look really good, zayne. really, really handsome and if you don’t fuck me right now, i think i might die.”

zayne huffs out a laugh, his arms wrapping around your waist tightly, kissing the corner of your mouth affectionately.

“yeah, sweetheart? i suppose it would be against my oath to neglect someone so direly in need.”

you nod rapidly, pulling him down for another searing kiss, fingers slipping into his hair, pulling at the soft strands. zayne smiles against your lips, guiding you towards his desk, your lower back hitting it as he boxes you in against it, his tongue slipping into your mouth.

a soft moan leaves you when he squeezes at your ass, groping at the fat, his breath hot against you as his other hand slips under your skirt, rubbing up against your embarrassingly drenched panties.

“you’re this wet?” zayne asks hoarsely, groaning when he pulls your panties to the side and feels your slick sticking to his fingers stubbornly as he rubs the pads of his fingers against your slippery, puffy folds. “just from watching me perform a surgery?”

“surgery, scrubs,” you mutter absentmindedly, half-lidded and drunken gaze dragging over the length of his arm, pussy clenching at the visible flex of his bicep and the muscles in his forearms, the sinewy skin littered with scars nearly enough to make you cum right and then there. “i think i’m just always wet around you, zayne.”

his smile against your cheek makes your heart flutter, an airy, contented sigh leaving you as he sinks two fingers inside of you, curling them with practised ease.

“it is flattering,” he whispers, pecking your lips gently, his hand pulling your sweater up until your bra is exposed, fingers unclasping your bra quickly. zayne sucks in a sharp breath when he sees your breasts, his jaw clenching. “fuck- you’re beautiful, love.”

“thank- ah- thank you.”

you flush under his gaze, head tipping back as he thrusts his fingers into your clenching cunt, the low, hoarse groans he lets out into your ear making you curl your hands into his scrubs, pulling him impossibly closer. the praise he gives you makes everything spin around you, swirling and melding into nothing until all you can hear are his soft whispers.

“good girl… taking my fingers so well, yeah? pretty, pretty fucking baby… all mine… you sound so pretty, sweetheart… i love you…”

you can barely handle it all, mouth opening for his fingers when he slides them inside, sucking dazedly, hips rocking down against his hand, trying to fuck yourself on his fingers, gasping when he curls them further and presses his thumb against your swollen, aching clit. when his mouth latches onto your breast, kissing and sucking, tongue flicking at your nipple before he bites down with measured restraint, you know you’re done.

he groans when you pull at his hair, muffling your sounds with a sloppy kiss. zayne’s arm wraps around your waist to hold you up when he feels you shake, licking into your mouth with such fervor that has you whining and whimpering until he pulls back to shush you.

“what- what are you doing?” you ask, voice slurring, shaking your head in a panicked gesture when he tries to pull his scrub top over his head, “don’t do that. the scrubs and glasses stay on.”

“you’re serious,” zayne muses when you stop him again, his fingers lacing with yours. “so, i was right.”

“mhm,” you smile up at him, tongue licking over his lower lip playfully.

he smiles lazily, pushing his glasses to sit higher on the slope of his nose, sitting in his chair, his thighs spreading invitingly, the fabric tight around the hardened bulge that makes your pussy throb.

“c’mere, sweetheart.”

as if you needed an invitation. you’re pulling your skirt and panties off, clambering up onto his lap, his chair creaking as you kiss him, hand slipping between your bodies to free his hard, thick cock that’s smeared with milky beads of pre-cum.

there’s a collective sound of relief leaving both of you when you sink down on his warm length, his hands grasping your waist as you rock your hips down, whining softly into his mouth.

you lean back, rising and falling on his cock, setting a rhythm that has zayne’s eyes fluttering shut, his head tipping back to rest against the back of his chair. the bob of his adam’s apple has you growing wetter, pussy fluttering around his fat cock, zayne’s hand roughly squeezing at your ass.

“that’s it,” he breathes out, hooking his thumb against your teeth to pull you closer, lips pressing against yours. “ride my cock, love. take what you want.”

his collarbone is exposed, peeking through the v of his scrubs, your hands guiding his hand to your throat, whimpering when he squeezes your neck gently. his fingers are pushing back into your mouth before long, the same fingers that were moving so precisely only hours ago; saving someone’s life.

you let your tongue lave between his fingers, head bobbing as you ride his cock, fingers pushing at his scrub top, walls clenching around his cock when zayne bites the hem, holding it between his teeth. he looks good like this, almost as fucked out as you are, a hazy smile spreading across your face as you lean forward, breasts squishing up against his warm chest while you work your hips, bouncing on his cock, your hard nipples brushing against his pecs.

“i love you,” you mumble, voice shy and airy and cheeks flushed, despite the fact that his cock was currently stuffing you full.

“i know,” zayne whispers, hand pressing against your back to keep you flush against him as he picks you up, laying you down on his desk. “i love you too, sweetheart.”

which is why he fucks you like he means it, because he does, guiding your ankles to lock around his back as he leans over you, pounding his cock into your cunt, forcing your pussy to stretch around his thick cock, his hand cradling the back of your head so it doesn’t bang against the desk.

his glasses slip off with a clatter, but neither of you can find it in yourselves to care, too consumed by pleasure and lust, your teeth sinking into his shoulder when he grinds his hips into you, cock buried so deeply inside of you that your thighs are twitching, eyes squeezed shut.

“zayne,” you gasp, “zayne, i- i can’t-”

“gonna cum?” zayne asks, his voice hoarse and trembling from the pleasure, “please, sweetheart? cum on my cock, wanna see you look all pretty and undone, my love.”

the brush of his thumb against your clit is all it takes to send you over the edge, that and the way he drives his cock into you, in one measured, deep thrust that you’re almost sure you can feel his cock in your throat.

“c’mon,” he rasps into your ear, the lewd words accompanied by the sweetest, gentlest kiss to your cheek in encouragement, “c’mon sweetheart, cream my fuckin’ cock.”

you’re crying out, back arching, fingers scrabbling for purchase, wrapping around him, gripping the fabric of his scrubs desperately, your squeal muffled by zayne’s mouth slotting over yours, the heels of your feet pressing against him, trying to keep him stuffed inside of you.

“fuck-” zayne groans, “oh fuck- sweetheart, take it, take my cum.”

he thrusts into you unevenly, grunting as he cums, his body falling over yours, hot cum flooding your pussy as his cock throbs and jerks inside of you. a contented sigh escapes you as you lay limp on his desk, nails scratching at his scalp gently, fingers running through his hair soon after.

zayne smiles at you when he props himself up, his lips brushing across your jaw fleetingly.

“maybe you should exclusively wear scrubs from now on,” you suggest, brushing his damp hair out of his eyes, pecking his lips.

“you’d never let me leave the house,” he whispers against your lips, amusement lacing his words.

“how could i?” you pout, your nose nuzzling against his, “not when you look this good.”

zayne lets out a low laugh, helping you sit up, cleaning you up with a few tissues before he does the same, helping you with your clothes after, his hands smoothing over your ruffled skirt.

you yawn contentedly, pressing yourself against him, rising up onto the tips of your toes to kiss him again, mewling softly when he pets his hands along your waist and hips.

“you did really good today,” you offer when he drags you onto his lap, curling up against his chest. “the surgery, i mean, i don’t know a whole lot about hearts and aortas, but i think you did great, zayne.”

“you don’t know a lot about hearts?” he muses, tipping your chin up with his finger, “that doesn’t sound right.”

“what?” you ask confusedly, brows furrowing as he kisses your forehead. “what do you mean?”

“how could you not?” zayne whispers, his gaze soft and riddled with overwhelmingly love and affection. “how could you not when you’ve completely captured my heart and soul?”

#zayne smut #zayne #zayne x reader #love and deepspace #love and deepspace zayne #lnd zayne #lnd smut #li shen #lads #lads zayne

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plutotheplum · 1 month ago

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chapter five | the emperor

zayne x fem!reader

“Like what?” Zayne whispers, leaning in to kiss you again, slow and sweet. “Like you mean something to me? Like I can’t stand the thought of you marrying Caleb?” He raises his brows, trapping your chin between his thumb and finger, forcing you to meet his eyes when you look away. “Like you’re the only one for me?”

cw: nsfw (18+) - mdni!!, smut, fluff, mild angst, kissing, oral sex, blowjob, p in v, breeding kink, praise kink, unprotected sex, overstimulation, vaginal fingering, belly bulge, confessions

wc: 7.1k

a/n: *stands around awkwardly* hey y'all.... i know it's been a while and i'm sorry it's taken me this long to get zayne's chapter out!! hope you all enjoy!! mwah mwah <3 (little sylus snippet at the end :3)

also on ao3!

series masterlist | next up: the devil

“Would you sit still and stop hobbling around?”

Zayne’s exasperated voice has you giving him your own irritated glance, letting out an annoyed huff of air to voice your displeasure. He’d been insistent, hovering around you ever since he’d seen you today, his eyes narrowing when he’d seen the awkward way you were adjusting yourself to make the ache in your thighs and hips more comfortable, no doubt courtesy of Caleb from the night before.

“I’m fine ,” you say, flopping down on his couch when he sends you a stern look, snuggling up against the cushions, hugging one to your chest. “Just a little sore.”

“Apart from the obvious,” Zayne clears his throat, gesturing vaguely to your neck where the splotchy marks still lingered, although much lighter than the days before. “Are you sure you’re up to this?”

“Of course I’m up to this,” you grouse, sitting up with a wince. “You’ve put me through far worse, Zayne. I’m insulted.”

“That’s not-”

You watch with a smug smile when Zayne’s cheeks flush pink, his hand moving to cover the lower half of his face. The tips of his ears are still enough to give him away, your smile growing wider when he adjusts his glasses agitatedly, pushing them up to sit higher on the slope of his nose.

It wasn’t as though your claim held no weight, not when evidence of Zayne’s exploits still lingered in your camera roll, well-hidden among a mirage of other photos. His long hours were what had made him crack the first time you’d ever slept with him. You’d been met with a weary expression and loose tie that night, his phone in one hand and a bag of take-out in another.

You’d never seen him so wound-up before, the unfamiliar, agitated bounce of his knee piquing your interest. A few attempts at prodding for answers later, Zayne had snapped. Exhaustion forgotten, you’d been at the mercy of his mouth, fingers and cock, the grip he had had on your hips enough to leave bruises until the next day and a limp in your walk much similar to the one you were sporting today.

“No,” Zayne says when he sees the questioning expression on your face, shaking his head, “I’m not doing- we’re not doing that .”

“Boo,” you sigh, head falling against his shoulder when he sits down beside you. “I thought you’d at least be jealous, Zayne.”

“Were they?” he asks, leaning back against the couch.

“Yes,” you muse, taking his arm, your fingers drifting over the pale scars that covered his forearm, thumbs rubbing across his warm palm soon after. “Xavier and Caleb particularly.”

“I’m not surprised,” Zayne sighs, his head falling back as you dig your thumbs into his palm more firmly, massaging his hand with purpose. “You’ve made them desperate.”

You peer up at him, taking in the relaxed expression on his face, the exposed length of his neck. The lack of reaction makes you pout, however, your lower lip jutting out at Zayne’s calm acceptance. It was a stark difference from the other three men, unruly impatience replaced by cool indifference, hastiness by languidness.

“What does that make you?” you ask curiously, “the one that lurks in the shadows and bides his time?”

“I’m experienced in that aspect.”

His words make you pause, your brows furrowing when his head lifts and he stares down at you. No , you think, a breathless laugh escaping you; although it sounds more akin to a strangled wheeze. When Zayne’s gaze doesn’t waver, you begin to shrink back, your foot pushing at his thigh when he tries to move closer to you, keeping him anchored to one side of the couch whilst you move towards the other end.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you breathe out flippantly, refusing to look at him when his lithe fingers curl around your ankle, brushing across your skin in a gentle caress.

“Maybe,” Zayne murmurs, his voice low. “But you’re not completely stupid, are you?”

You send him a glare, trying to pull your foot free to no avail, flopping back when he simply digs his thumb into the sole of your foot, massaging absentmindedly. When he doesn’t say anything else to explain himself, you let out a disgruntled noise, sitting up agitatedly.

“You and Caleb are the worst ,” you announce, crossing your arms over your chest. “I mean, does it look like I’ve been blessed with telepathy?”

“No,” he replies coolly, reaching across to flick your forehead.

You whine at the action, rubbing at your forehead in an attempt to soothe the pain that lingers. There’s a smile pulling at Zayne’s lips as he watches you, his fingers drifting across your ankle again in lazy motions. It irks you slightly, the way he looks so invitingly domestic, and the thought of a baby, your baby, being held in his arms isn’t helping at all.

“What did he say?” Zayne asks after a few moments, his eyes finding yours. “If you let him cum twice, he must have said something worthwhile.”

“I’m not telling you,” you scoff sharply, cheeks growing hot when you remember Caleb’s confession and the aftermath that ensued. Your face scrunches when Zayne’s fingers drift across the sole of your toe fleetingly, your knee jerking out in response, the ticklish feeling making you curl away. “It’s none of your business, Zayne,” you protest adamantly, a wheeze leaving you when his fingers don’t let up, an involuntary laugh bubbling out of you soon after, “you- you wouldn’t like what he said anyways.”

The latter part of your sentence makes Zayne’s fingers pause abruptly, his gaze fixing onto you sternly. “Tell me.”

You wiggle your toes, hoping for him to continue massaging your ankle, a frown coming across your face when he shakes his head stubbornly. All you can manage is a heavy sigh, your head tilting to rest against the back of his couch. “Apparently he’s been pining after me for fifteen years,” you begin, watching Zayne’s expression carefully.

It’s subtle, but when you inch closer under the pretense of getting more comfortable, you can just spy the darkening of his eyes. If anything, his reaction spurs you to reveal more.

“He also said the baby was going to be his,” you say off-handedly, biting back a wince when Zayne’s fingers tighten around your ankle, the muscle in his jaw tensing as he grits his teeth together. “Rafayel and Xavier said that as well, so I suppose it doesn’t-”

“What else?” Zayne interrupts out, his voice sounding strained.

“I don’t why you’re prying for more,” you say exasperatedly. “We- we should just leave it here. I did tell you that you wouldn’t like it, Zayne.”

You squeak when he pulls at your ankle, tugging you across the length of the couch, his hands smoothing over your waist as he picks you up, settling you on his lap. Your breath hitches at the sudden change, throat drying when he leans closer, his arms wrapping around your waist firmly.

“Something about marrying me,” you confess breathily, hands landing on Zayne’s shoulders. “Caleb said he’d marry me,” a nervous laugh escapes you, “probably- probably didn’t mean anything by it.”

“But you let him cum twice,” Zayne murmurs, peering up into your eyes searchingly, “you let him. Clearly, you were moved.”

“Well, wouldn’t you be?” you ask, shooting him an incredulous look. “I mean what the hell was I supposed to do with fifteen years, Zayne?”

“You’re the only woman I’ve ever kissed.”

You slap your hand over Zayne’s mouth before he can reveal anything else, your heart beating out of your chest. “No,” you say sternly, shaking your head, trying and failing to process his words as his fingers slip under your shirt, stroking across your waist gently. “No, no - you don’t get to do this.”

It’s difficult to glare at him like this, your eyes fluttering shut for a moment when his hands skim higher, a soft, breathy sound leaving you when his thumbs slip under the elastic band of your bra, stroking across the underside of your breasts in a soothing motion. You try to keep your eyes open, teeth sinking into your lower lip when one of Zayne’s thumbs brushes over a hardening nipple, an unbidden noise slipping out of you.

“Don’t marry him.”

Zayne’s words pull you out of your haze of pleasure, bleary eyes blinking open to find that your hand has slipped off of his mouth. You move to cover his mouth again, but he stops you, his fingers lacing with yours instead.

“I never said I was going to marry him,” you sigh, slumping against his chest, burying your face into the crook of his neck. “I haven’t even had the baby yet, Zayne.”

Zayne lets out a weary sound in response, his hands rubbing across the expanse of your back. You squirm closer, arms wrapping around his neck, face pressing closer, chest flush against his. It’s nice , you think belatedly, warm and cozy and… safe. The change of pace is welcome, the dull ache in your thighs ebbing away slowly, soothed away by the practiced motions of Zayne’s thumbs.

“So have mine,” he whispers after a moment, his fingers curling into your shirt. “Have my baby.”

“You know better than anyone I can’t choose ,” you muse, peering up at him, a wry smile pulling at your lips. “You’re being illogical.”

“You seem to make me that way,” he replies, cupping your jaw, squeezing your cheeks together for a moment before letting go. “Funny how I can’t seem to think straight when you’re around.”

You flush at the words, letting out a flustered sound. “You sound ridiculous,” you sputter, yelping when he grabs your wrists firmly, stopping you from pushing at his chest.

“And Caleb didn’t?” Zayne retorts, raising his brows in question.

“That- that was different!” you protest, “you’re- you’re you !”

“And what is that supposed to mean?” he asks, leaning towards you. “Hm? Am I not good enough?”

“I never said that,” you say, feeling short of breath when Zayne leans in further, the tip of his nose brushing yours. You can feel the warmth of his breath fanning across your lips, every shuddering breath that escapes you fogging up his glasses slightly.

“I’d be a good father,” Zayne murmurs, his lips brushing across your jaw fleetingly. “Diligent,” his fingers slip back under your shirt, “patient,” you bite back a whine when his hands cup your breasts through your bra again, “attentive,” you mewl when he pinches your nipples.

“What about me?” you whisper, fisting his shirt to pull him closer, squirming on his lap when his lips brush over yours fleetingly. “Would you take care of me, Zayne?”

“Don’t ask questions you already know the answer to.”

Your eyes flutter shut when he finally closes the distance between you, his lips pressing against yours in a slow, soft kiss. Zayne’s glasses dig into your cheek when he presses closer, but you’re too busy tilting your head in an attempt to deepen the kiss, your hands sliding up to cup his cheeks.

“Am I really the only woman you’ve ever kissed?” you mumble against his lips, finding yourself drawn into another kiss that leaves you breathless and wanting more.

“Yes,” Zayne replies, a content noise escaping him when you slip your fingers into his hair and you begin to pepper his cheek with kisses. “That- ah- that night,” he rasps, cupping the back of your head when you bite his neck, “you were my first-”

You reel back at his words. “ What? ”

Zayne sighs, trying to pull you down for another kiss, his brows furrowing when you resist. You stare into his eyes, searching for some sign, any sign that what he’s said is some ill-mannered jest, but you find none, even when you go to the desperate lengths of taking his glasses off.

It didn’t make any sense for it to be his first time, not when you so clearly remember the way he’d maneuvered your body seamlessly. His head buried between your thighs, smooth strokes of his tongue and gentle, affectionate kisses to your clit which were enough to make you cum embarrassingly quickly. Not to mention the feeling of his hips settling between yours, hard cock slipping into your wet, aching pussy without hesitation, measured thrusts that had had you clawing at his back and seeing stars.

“What do you mean I was your first ?” you ask, breathless and taken aback.

“It means exactly what you think it does,” Zayne replies bluntly, his head tilting. “I wanted it to be with you.”

“And you didn’t think to mention it?” you shoot back, throwing your hands up.

“I was…” he pauses to clear his throat, a light flush tinging his cheeks, “preoccupied at the time.” His hand cups the back of your head, pulling you in closer despite your panicked protests. “...Much like I am now.”

You sag against him when he kisses you again, gasping into his mouth when Zayne stands, his hands sliding under your thighs to keep you against him. The wall is hard against your back when he presses you up against it, your legs locking behind his back, a needy whine escaping you as he presses his hips between your thighs, evidence of his arousal rubbing up against you.

“We- oh - we have to talk about it,” you begin, head tipping back when Zayne’s mouth drifts, dragging down your throat, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses against your skin. “Zayne-”

“Later,” he grumbles, his grip on your thighs loosening as he lets you down, back down onto your feet. Your eyes flutter shut when he kisses your cheek, fingers curling into his shirt when Zayne’s mouth ghosts over your ear, gently kissing the shell of it. “We can discuss it once we’re finished.”

You blink up at him when he pulls back, letting out a sigh. When Zayne dips his head, you meet him halfway, landing a quick peck to his lips.

“I thought you’d be the most hesitant,” you confess, fingers playing with the hem of his shirt absentmindedly. “I didn’t think you’d even agree.”

“But I did ,” he murmurs, kissing your cheek again, “and I meant it, so stop worrying and let me take care of you, love.”

“Don’t call me that,” you whisper, heart twinging uncomfortably in your chest, “stop- stop acting like-”

“I hate you,” you say, voice small and trembling slightly, “I wanted a baby… not- not whatever this is.” You gesture between your bodies agitatedly. “ This wasn’t a part of the agreement.”

“You’ll end up choosing one of us,” Zayne says, his thumb smoothing over your cheek, while his other hand drifts lower, pressing against your stomach. “I want it to be me , I want to see you glowing with my child, not someone else’s.”

“This was a terrible idea,” you sniffle belatedly.

“Yes,” Zayne smiles faintly, his hands coming up to cup your cheeks, “you seem to be brimming with those. Perhaps I should have let you show us that presentation after all.”

“You missed out,” you mumble, “definitely better than whatever you’d see at a medical conference.”

Zayne’s laugh makes you feel warm, body curling into his, your fingers tugging at his shirt until he follows the motion, leaning down. Your head tips back, hands sliding up his chest, arms wrapping around his neck to draw him into another kiss, lips working against his eagerly.

You both stumble into his bedroom, Zayne’s lips refusing to detach from yours even when you try and push at his chest to get him to lay down. He ends up pulling you down with him, hands lifting you up easily to settle you down on his lap, a squeak escaping you when his hand squeezes at the fat of your ass.

“We’ll go slow,” he murmurs against your lips, his voice rough, “I don’t want to tire you.”

“That’s considerate,” you breathe out, capturing his lips hungrily, “but I have something else in mind.”

Zayne grunts, his brows furrowing when he feels the absence of your weight on top of him, sitting up to watch you slink down from the bed, settling between his thighs with feigned innocence. He lets out a soft sigh when you paw at his trousers, pulling them down with eager hands, your gaze turning hazy when you see his hardened cock, the thick bulge in his boxers enough to make your thighs squeeze together needily.

“Come here,” Zayne whispers, patting his thigh, his other hand caressing your cheek. Your eyes flutter shut, head tilting to nuzzle into the warmth of his palm, the stroke of his thumb enough to have you letting out a quiet whine. “Come here, love,” he tries to coax again, hand stroking over your hair, “let me take care of you.”

“N- no,” you pout, shaking your head, “I want you in my mouth.”

He opens his mouth to protest, but you’re already dipping your head, mouthing at his boxers, the fabric darkening with your spit as you whine and nuzzle against his clothed cock. Zayne groans at the feeling of your mouth, your eyes flitting up just in time to catch a glimpse of the exposed length of his neck, his head tipped back in pleasure.

You smile, suckling a little more, shifting back when Zayne’s hips buck up, chasing after the feeling of your mouth.

“ Fuck ,” he murmurs, running a hand through his hair to peer down at you. “Take me out then, love. It’s all yours.”

You do as he says, eager hands pulling at the waistband of his boxers, throat drying at the sight of his cock. Pretty , you think, biting your lip when you see the tip of his cock, colored a few shades darker than the flush on his cheeks. Zayne’s cock is long and thick, and you’ve spent enough nights together for him to have taught you how to swallow his cock, the gentle stroke of his thumb across your chin enough encouragement for your mouth to drop open.

Zayne rasps out a curse when your mouth envelops the head of his cock, his hands curling into fists beside him, his hips jerking involuntarily. You mewl, the sound muffled by his cock filling your mouth, your head dipping to take him deeper.

There’s a moan following soon after, the low, hoarse sound making your eyes squeeze shut in delight, tongue eagerly swirling around Zayne’s cock.

“That’s it. Taking me so well, love,” Zayne whispers, fingers ghosting across the bulge of his cock outlined in your cheek whenever you bob your head, “good girl. My good girl.”

The taste of his pre-cum, heady and intoxicating, combined with the whispery utterances of praise have you shuffling closer, your hand slipping into your shorts and panties to stroke across your dripping pussy. The sounds are obscene, spit dripping from the sides of your mouth and down your chin as you suck and lick the best you can.

You whine when Zayne tugs at your hair gently, pulling you off of his cock. “‘m not done,” you complain, hand wrapping around his spit-slick cock, squeezing enough to have his thighs twitching and more thick globs of pre-cum beading at the tip.

“If I cum,” he sighs, his hand petting your hair, the soothing, stroking motion of his hand making you feel dazed, “I won’t be able to cum in you.”

“But ‘m being good,” you mumble, leaning forward to mouth across the hot length of his cock, tongue lapping across a prominent vein, following it towards the base of his cock, your nose brushing against the coarse hair that lays there. You press a kiss to his hip, eyes flitting up to meet his. “Just wanna make you feel good, Zayne.”

“You- hah- ,” his head tips back when you grip his cock more firmly, his teeth sinking into his lower lip when you lave your tongue over his balls. “You are ,” he manages out, voice strained, “you always do.”

The suckle of your mouth on his balls is enough to have Zayne biting his fist, the muffled sounds of his desperation combining with the soft gags that emanate from you when you envelop his cock again, cheeks hollowing as you suction, nails digging into his thighs when Zayne’s hand presses against your head, holding you in place.

You whimper, fingers pressing inside your aching cunt, hips humping needily, panties and shorts now drenched with your slick. Every bob of your head has his thighs twitching, Zayne’s groans making you mewl, the hoarse sounds escaping his throat encouraging you further, fingers massaging his balls greedily.

Every soft suckle at the head of his cock makes Zayne’s patience fray, his fingers pushing at your forehead when you whine and try to kiss the tip of his cock, your lips smeared with spit and pre-cum, the debauched sight of you making his cock throb .

“Come here,” Zayne rasps, his hands sliding under your arms to haul you up onto his lap. Your arms wind around his neck, mouth slotting against his eagerly, moaning when he licks into your mouth. He can taste himself on your tongue, a grunt leaving him when you paw at his chest, your fingers pulling his shirt over his head hastily.

You squeak in surprise when he suddenly flips you over, peering up at him with a shy smile and flushed cheeks.

“I love your cock,” you slur dazedly, cooing when Zayne cups your cheek, the reverent kiss placed there making your heart flutter.

“Yeah?” he murmurs, smiling against your jaw, “what else do you love, baby?”

“How smart you are,” you sigh dreamily, hips lifting to help him as he pulls your shorts down. Your fingers run through his hair when his face buries into the crook of your neck, his mouth hot against your skin. “How patient you are with me,” you continue breathlessly, letting him slip your bra and shirt off, your back arching when Zayne’s mouth drags lower, across your chest.

Zayne lets out a low noise, a heavy breath of air leaving him when he sees your bare breasts, his jaw clenching at the sight. You bite your lip when he kisses the side of your breast, sighing softly when his tongue swirls around your areola, nails scratching at his scalp when his mouth envelopes one of your tits.

“Love your smile,” you mumble, thighs pressing together when he stares up at you, the lewd image of his tongue flicking against your hardened nipple enough to make you mewl. “Love- ngh- love your eyes, Zayne.”

The scrape of his teeth has you tugging at his hair, mouth dropping open and head tilting back into the pillows when Zayne bites down with measured restraint, tugging at your nipple with his teeth. It doesn’t seem to help when his hand slips between your thighs, lithe fingers pulling your panties to the side, your body seizing when his fingers slide through the wetness coating your dripping pussy.

“Is that all?” he asks quietly, tongue swirling over your other areola, his lips pressing against the side of your breast in a fleeting kiss.

Your breath catches when he lifts his head, the implication behind his question becoming clearer the longer the silence between you grows. Too soon , Zayne thinks to himself, his gaze softening when he feels you twitch, his lips brushing across your cheek in an apology.

“Zayne, I-” you begin, pausing when words fail you, mouth opening and closing while your brows furrow, nervousness making your fingers tremble.

“It’s okay,” he soothes, muffling your needy sounds with his mouth as he sinks two fingers inside of you. “It’s okay, love. We can work up to it.”

You nod, thighs spreading open wider when his fingers curl up, hitting exactly where you need him to, the sensations making your aching cunt clench around his fingers. Every scissor of his fingers and flex of his wrist has you crying out, nails raking down his back when he quickens his pace.

“Good girl,” Zayne breathes out, his mouth latching back onto your breast, “such a good girl for me, yeah?”

“Y- yes!” you gasp, tears beading at the corners of your eyes with every thrust of his fingers, every brush of his thumb against your throbbing clit, fingers reaching back blindly to grab at the pillow, teeth sinking into it as you moan and whine. “Zayne- oh- Zayne, please! ”

“That’s it, love,” he whispers encouragingly, mouth dragging along your jaw, peppering soft kisses to your cheek. “That’s it… cum for me, baby.”

A strangled sort of moan works its way out of your throat when Zayne crooks his fingers a little more and presses his thumb against your clit firmly, the sensation making your thighs twitch. You can feel his smile against your skin when your back arches, his lips returning to your tits, teeth nipping and tugging, your pussy fluttering around his fingers as you cum.

You blink up at him blearily, shaking your head with a whine when he settles between your thighs, his hands guiding them to rest on his shoulders.

“Another one,” Zayne murmurs, his head lowering to kiss your puffy folds, “give me another one, love. Please?”

Good manners were going to be the death of you. You watch as he thumbs apart your folds, hips jerking weakly when his lips press against your still swollen and faintly throbbing clit.

“Just one more?” you ask meekly, the heat in your lower stomach already beginning to build again when he kisses your clit once more.

“Yes,” he replies, lips pressing gentle kisses to your inner thighs. “One more and then I’ll fuck you, love. Nice and slow and fill you to the brim so you’re bred, hm?”

“Who taught you how to speak like that?” you ask exasperatedly, throwing an arm over your hot cheeks, unable to stop the thrill that Zayne’s words had sent down your body and was now dripping out of you, the strings of slick clinging to your folds.

There’s no answer given, instead Zayne’s tongue gliding over your wet, fluttering pussy, drawing a sharp gasp out of you. You’re sensitive, thighs twitching at every minute ministration, fingers tangling in Zayne’s hair yet again.

“Oh fuck ,” you whine, toes curling against his broad back, eyes rolling to the back of your head.

Zayne grunts into your pussy when you tug at his hair, his body shifting forward to hike your legs up higher, mouth latching onto your clit. You whimper when his tongue flicks against the achy bud, cunt clenching involuntarily as he sucks, the soft smack of his lips against your pussy enough to make you drool.

The motions of his tongue and the massage of his fingers around your thighs is too much, your back beginning to arch once again, hands pushing at Zayne’s head weakly as you try to squirm away, the pleasure too much.

“You can take it,” Zayne says, his voice hoarse, “if you let Caleb fuck you twice, you can take this.”

“I- I can’t-” you whine, hips bucking up when Zayne’s tongue slips into your empty pussy. “Oh my- fuck- Zayne! ”

He keeps you pinned down, your sharp, little breaths only spurring him on, his cock still hard and throbbing, hips grinding against his bed to try and relieve the ache. You’re seeing stars, much like that first night, eyes squeezed shut tightly as every thrust of Zayne’s tongue inside of you leaves you gasping for air.

You try to sit up, rising up onto your elbows, head tipping back while your legs jerk out as Zayne’s face presses right between your thighs, the bridge of his nose pressing up against you deliciously.

“All you have to do is cum,” Zayne says, his eyes watching you carefully, “that’s all you have to do, baby. Let me take care of you.”

“‘s too much,” you hiccup, making Zayne hiss in pain when you pull at his hair without abandon when his tongue presses inside of you again.

His mouth returns to your clit soon after, sucking with renewed fervor, the sensations making your elbows give out, body flopping back down onto his bed tiredly, cheek squishing against the pillow, spit leaking from the corner of your mouth.

“‘m gonna-” you slur, cunt clenching desperately, toes curling once more. “‘m gonna c- ah! ”

“Cum,” he rasps, fingers slipping back inside of you once more, lips smacking against your clit in lewd, sticky kisses that leave his chin and lips shining with your slick. “Cum for me, love. Be good and fucking cum .”

The roughness of Zayne’s voice coupled with the command has you squirming and writhing, hands flailing around to grab onto anything you can find, only to find your hands pinned down by Zayne, his fingers lacing with yours tightly as you cum, your noises muffled by his mouth slotting over yours, his tongue delving into your mouth.

The press of his knee against your pussy isn’t helping, your hips rocking up involuntarily resulting in your pussy grinding across his thigh, a yelp escaping you when he presses his thigh against you harder, his kiss growing hungrier. You feel like you’re being devoured, mind blank except for the ever encompassing presence that is Zayne and the pleasure that leaves you quivering.

“Good girl,” he whispers, pecking your lips gently, his hand brushing your hair out of your eyes, “did so well for me, love. Always do.”

You preen at the praise, arms wrapping around his neck tiredly as he settles between your thighs, the soothing motion of his hand stroking over your hair making you feel content. The sweet words he whispers make you relax further, eyes drooping shut.

“Do you want to stop?” Zayne asks softly, rubbing his shirt across your cheek, cleaning the spit that had leaked out from your mouth earlier.

“No,” you whisper, peering up at him, your fingers splaying over his neck. “I want this, Zayne. I- I want you.”

His head drops forward, his breaths warm against your shoulder. Your hands slide up, cupping his cheeks to lift his head, thumbs smoothing across his cheeks gently. There’s a tense silence, something unreadable flitting through Zayne’s eyes, a sigh leaving him as he rises onto his knees, fisting his cock in one hand, jerking himself lazily.

“You’re annoyed,” you supply, hooking a leg around his hip as he shuffles forward, the head of his cock brushing across your clit fleetingly.

“Maybe,” Zayne replies, “but not at you. At myself.”

“Why?” you ask, teeth sinking into your lower lip when he smacks his cock against your pussy, translucent strings of your slick clinging to the length of his cock with every smack, pre-cum smearing across your clit in thick globs.

“Because I should have never let you leave after the first time.”

There’s barely enough time to register his words, Zayne’s cock sinking in immediately after, his hips pressing forward and hands landing on either side of your head. It isn’t fast or feral, just a slow, measured rock of Zayne’s hips that have him burying inch after inch of his cock inside of your pussy until he’s bottomed out.

You watch his expression with desperate eyes, an airy sound leaving you as he draws his hips back before sinking his cock back in with a languid thrust. It doesn’t feel like fucking , doesn’t feel like all the other times that you’ve had with Rafayel, Xavier or Caleb, it feels unfamiliar in a way that has something wretched curling around your heart.

“Go faster,” you mumble, desperately trying to deflect, “I want it harder.”

“No,” Zayne’s reply is blunt, “feel this, love.” His hand slides over your thigh, hiking your leg up higher as he fucks into you, slow and deep. “Feel this , feel what I feel.”

And you can feel it, you can feel the soft touch of his fingers, the brush of his chest against yours as he lowers himself, your breasts squishing against him. You can feel the brush of his lips over your forehead, over your cheek, the gentleness of his kiss as he captures your lips. You can feel the drag of his cock, deep, rolling thrusts that have you whining and whimpering and digging your nails into his shoulders, leaving crescent-shaped marks in their wake.

“Whose baby?” he asks, staring down into your eyes intensely, “whose baby are you going to have?”

“Yours,” you blurt out. You’ve said it to each of them, each man before Zayne, but this feels different , your eyes fluttering shut. “Yours, Zayne,” you breathe out, “I’m going to have your baby.”

“Yes,” he whispers, “yes, you will, love.”

Zayne lays kisses along your jaw, mouth working lazily just as his hips do, his tongue laving over your neck, teeth scraping along the sensitive skin. You whimper, trying desperately to pull him closer, back arching under his weight.

“Take my cock,” Zayne murmurs, his face pressing into the crook of your neck, “take what I have to give you, baby.”

“I- I am taking it,” you whine, legs tightening around his hips, lips puckering up. “Wanna kiss, Zayne.”

He lets out a laugh, the low, hoarse noise making your cunt clench around him, Zayne’s laugh morphing into a groan when he feels how tightly you’re gripping him.

“I’ll give you as many kisses as you want,” he soothes, pecking your lips sweetly. “Kiss you all the time when you’re all swollen with my baby and when you’re grouchy when your ankles start to hurt. I’ll kiss you all over, love.”

“‘m gonna hold you to that,” you mumble airily, moaning softly when his cock thrusts into you at the same time, buried so deeply in your cunt that there’s a bulge in your stomach, Zayne’s fingers drifting over it.

“Look at that,” Zayne says, landing another kiss on your lips as you blink down, eyes wide. “That’s where you’ll have my baby. I don’t need to cum twice to know that it’s going to be mine .”

It’s too much, his words coupled with his kisses, your gaze unable to stray from the bulge formed by his cock, the sight so distracting that Zayne lets out a noise of displeasure, his hand cupping your jaw to tilt your head back, his lips slotting over yours firmly.

“Zayne,” you mewl, thighs quivering when his cock drives into you over and over , “Zayne- ah- ‘m gonna cum…” you whimper when he buries his cock to the hilt, his balls flush against your ass. “‘m gonna cum!”

“That’s it,” Zayne rasps, his voice strained as he feels you clench around his cock, your fluttering walls making his eyes squeeze shut in pleasure. “Cum, love. Let me breed you.”

You cry out, Zayne’s name leaving you in a strangled chant, your nails raking down his back when he drops his weight onto you fully, cock pushing in deeper and deeper , until you can spy the bulge in your stomach when he shifts to give you a brief glimpse.

He groans into your mouth when you pull him into a kiss, hissing at the pain that burns across his scalp when you pull without abandon, his cock twitching and jerking inside of you while you cum, head thrown back and legs shaking.

“ Fuck- love, please- ”

Zayne doesn’t know what he’s even asking for, the tight grip of your walls making him gasp, his hips stuttering as you lick into his mouth, the kiss sloppy and clumsy. He can’t hold back anymore, not when you’re begging for him so sweetly, not when your cunt is so obviously trying to milk him dry.

He cums with grunt; thick ropes of hot cum spilling inside of you, the sensation of your fluttering pussy drawing out a ragged breath from him, his hands giving out as he slumps atop you, his arms wrapping around you tightly.

“Don’t pull out,” you whisper, pouting slightly when he lifts himself after a few moments, drawing away from you.

“A few more minutes,” Zayne relents, his eyes fluttering shut when you kiss his cheek, heart thudding when he feels how soft your fingers are against his skin.

You bite your lip when he finally draws away, thighs pressing together tiredly as you watch him walk into the bathroom, the muscles in his back flexing, eyes lighting up at the sight of the red welts dragging down the length of his back.

“All marked up,” you announce, arms stretching above your head, letting out a yawn when he returns. “Looks pretty.”

“Grayson is going to give me a hard time in the changing room,” Zayne muses, his hands running along your sides, head dipping to lay kisses all over your stomach. You brush his hair out of his eyes, smiling when he kisses your lower stomach.

Zayne’s hands are warm as they rub over your thighs, massaging out the ache, his lips drifting across your hip as he lays reverent kisses to your skin. You let your fingers slip through his hair lazily, thighs shifting when he wipes between them with a hot, damp cloth, your eyes fluttering shut at the soothing comfort.

“Keep the rest in for me,” he whispers, his fingers stroking across your puffy pussy, pushing in the cum that threatens to leak out even after he’s cleaned you up.

“I’ll try,” you mumble sleepily, arms looping around his neck, hips squirming as he pulls your panties back up over your hips, your body curling into his.

Every stroke of his hand over your hair lulls you, a tired smile coming across your face, lips pressing against Zayne’s in a slow kiss. His hand slides over the dip of your waist and curve of your hip, curling around your thigh to bring you closer, lips working against yours gently.

“Thank you,” you whisper, face pressing into his chest, “for always taking care of me.”

Zayne clears his throat, his arms tightening around you. “I don’t plan on stopping,” he murmurs into your hair, the feeling of your body against his enough to make his heart lurch.

“Ever?” you ask, voice small, your fingers tracing across his skin absentmindedly.

When Zayne’s hand slips between your bodies, you shiver, his palm pressing against your stomach firmly. You don’t know what compels you, but your hand slips over his, fingers lacing together, the intensity of his gaze like a binding vow.

“Ever,” Zayne promises, his hand caressing your stomach, lips pressing against your forehead.

The stroke of his thumb over your lower stomach doesn’t seem to help, eyes growing glassy with tears. “Maybe you should stop talking,” you suggest, letting out a shaky breath, “it’s making me hormonal.”

Zayne huffs out a laugh, his eyes bright with amusement. You scrunch your nose when he nuzzles into your cheek, squeaking when he squeezes the fat of your ass.

“I’ll say much sweeter things to you when you’re pregnant,” he muses.

You can’t stop yourself from letting the question slip out of your mouth. “Like what?”

Zayne kisses your forehead, his lips brushing across your ear soon after. “First hint,” he whispers, pulling you closer as though trying to meld your bodies together. “Three words.”

Crows were never Sylus’ favorite animal.

Although that was before he’d ever found Mephisto, and the small, injured crow that had tapped its beak against the sweeping windowpanes of his penthouse had been enough to fill him with a sense of pity towards the little creature all those years ago.

Still, pets had to be trained, didn’t they? He’d started off small, a hidden stash of seeds here and there until the stubborn, pesky, and still recovering bird had finally given in and flown off to uncover whatever treasure was awaiting him.

Sylus still wasn’t unsure how it had happened, but the crow had taken a liking to him. Perhaps it was the little blobs of jam that had managed to bribe the creature, or perhaps it was the gentle scratches Sylus had offered him, the soft features under his fingers making his guarded disposition crumble until he’d caved and given the impish crow a name.

It hardly matters now, however, not when Sylus’ mind is now occupied by thoughts of you , laced with festering moments of longing that leave him feeling embarrassingly flustered.

Sylus supposes its why he’s here now, sitting behind his desk in the late hours of the night. He narrows his eyes at Mephisto when the crow pecks his fingers teasingly as he carefully loosens the collar from around the crow’s neck, gently stroking across Mephisto’s tuft of feathers in a silent thank you.

The small camera embedded in the collar is unharmed. Sylus feels foolish doing this, but he can’t seem to help it, possessiveness clawing at his insides until he relents. The footage is shaky and slightly blurred by the glass, but it’s enough for him to catch a glimpse of you.

The way you curl up into Zayne’s body has Sylus’ hands tightening into clenched fists, knuckles turning white when he sees you bare and sated, his teeth grinding together when he sees Zayne brush a kiss to your forehead.

It’s not normal to obsess , not like this at least, the drive on his laptop filled with footage of you over the past four days. Sylus mutters a curse under his breath when he sees you smile and lean into kiss Zayne, the sound of his laptop slamming shut drawing a startled caw out of Mephisto.

“Sorry,” he murmurs, reaching out to pet the crow’s head gently, “I left some jam and seeds in your bowl. Eat up.”

Sylus’ fingers work with practised ease as he wraps his fingers with tape, his shirt pulled over his head, tense shoulders rolling in an agitated motion as he stalks towards the punching bag. The first slam of his fist doesn’t make him feel better. Neither does the second, or the third… or the twentieth.

He wipes at the sweat beading on his brow with the back of his hand, rolling his shoulders again, the familiar sluggish ache of exertion beginning to settle in. The punching bag no longer hangs from its hook, strewn half-way across the room instead.

Mephisto pecks at its frayed edges.

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