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therobbycuepitt · 27 days ago

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Hold up and hear me out. What about.....saying I love you for the first time in the middle of sex? How would that go? I'm thinking for Langdon......but I'm kinda thinking about how each one would go down(pun intended). Like I don't know who would say it versus who wouldn't (reader vs guy). Any thoughts or interests in writing this? Any input is much appreciated!

Hi anon! I know, this request was collecting dust in my inbox lmao I'm sorry ! 🙆 let's be honest, who would and wouldn't say it doesn't matter if they're completely whipped 😉😉 ((there is no whipping in this! jsyk lol but it's still smutty as hell 🙂‍↕️)) hope you enjoy!

Saying 'I love you' for the first time...during sex

Robby

"Fuck, baby you feel so good" Robby throws his head back against the back rest of the couch, his hands have a vice grip on your hips letting you bounce on him in a fast pace. You look at him over your shoulder, watching his brows crease in pleasure when you slow down to a grind, circling your hips while he's deep inside of you.

"D-don't stop... Yes, baby. Fuck, I love you," the end almost was just a whisper but you definitely heard it. Lifting yourself up and turning to straddle him so you were face to face. You pump him with your hand, while the other slots to the back of his neck making him look at you.

"Did you just-"

"Yeah...yeah I did," he pulls you closer by palming his large hands over your ass, making you grind on him. His brown eyes go half lidded at the sensation of your wetness going over his cock.

"Not the most ideal situation to say it for the first time... But I meant it," he sheepishly mutters, peppering kisses on your bare shoulder. Your hand pushes his swollen head over your folds before pushing him back in you and you slowly bottom him out. He lightly nips at your shoulder, feeling fully enclosed by your warmth. Your nails scrape against his scalp, making him shudder and his hands grip your ass tighter.

"I love you," you say gripping his hair to make him look at you. His brown eyes are completely dark with awe and lust while you fuck him to his high.

Frank

A hard slap stings your ass cheek as you grip the sheets beneath you, trying to hold it together. He brings his palm down again, eliciting a loud moan from you enjoying the pain.

"That's it. Yes, baby. Take it like a good girl," he pants behind you, his pace unrelenting, squeezing the plump flesh of your bottom. The sounds of skins slapping against each other is the only sound in the room aside from your uncontrollable moans. Your legs begin to shake and tense up when you feel your high approaching.

"I'm gonna...Frank!" You come with little warning, waves of pleasure pulse through you with every deep plunge of Frank's cock in you. You barely recover from your first one when he pushes you both down on the mattress, one hand supporting his weight while the other serves your clit with small quick ministrations. You see white as you orgasm again, this time Frank joins you his hips stuttering at his pace. He collapses on top of you, shifting his weight to the side as to not crush you.

"Such a good fucking girl. God, I fucking love you," he murmurs into your hair, still inside you and rolling his hips in the slowest pace holding you close as you both try to recover.

Your breathing slows down, your body well spent. Frank slowly pulls out his now soft cock out of you, cursing at the wet sound. You almost fall asleep but suddenly feel your body get lifted into the air and get carried into the bathroom. He settles you down on the toilet letting you do your business while he turns on the shower, testing the water if it was warm enough. You walk into the shower with him, letting the water run down your bodies. His eyes trace every feature of your face, his blue irises completely vulnerable.

"I love you, too," you confess. His deep dimpled smile gets covered with the back of your hand as he kisses it softly.

Jack

"Sweetheart, if you keep doing that I'm not going... to... last long," Jack huffs beneath you, his chest and neck was covered in red by your lipstick. His inner thighs were also smeared with the color when you made your way down there taking him deep in your throat. You let his thick member go with a pop! He stares down at you as you reposition yourself over his thighs, grinding your already wet cunt down on him. With his back against the bed rest, he leans his head back with a deep groan when you push his pulsing, red tip between your folds. He clenches his jaw and curses when he's fully in.

"You feel so good, Jack," you moan, sitting on your heels as you ride him slowly. Wanting more of him, you open your legs wider and place your weight fully over him. The pressure on your pelvic bone makes you grind on him, feeling his tip brush the deepest part of you, sending you to a frenzy. Your thrusts go faster and Jack tries to center himself by squeezing your ass. His breath hitches and his stomach clenches at the overwhelming sensation of your soft walls.

"Shit, sweetie. I love you but give me a minute," he grinds out, but you don't stop and he feels you release over him. He groans come out shuttered as he releases hot spurts of his cum in you.

"N-ugh! Fuck!" You hiss, lavishing at the feeling of him pulse inside of you.

"You love me?" asking him completely breathless, your hands cradle his face. His cheeks, which were already red, blush deeper. He shakes his head, smiling.

"You came from me saying that?" he playfully teases, holding your hand to his face, kissing your palm and nuzzles it.

"Fuck you, Abbot," you grin, tugging at his silvered curls lightly.

"I love you too, angel."

Shen

"John! Please... I need you," you pleaded, gripping on his hair as his tongue keeps devouring your folds and clit, licking and sucking non-stop.

"Just a minute, baby. God, I fucking love you like this..." his lips kiss your inner thighs while they tremble. He pushes one of his digits inside, making your back arch and brace yourself on the sheets. You gasp when he pushes another one in, stretching you out. His pumps his fingers slowly, bringing his lips down to kiss your sensitive and swollen bud.

"Love seeing you like this," he kisses.

"Love hearing you beg," he licks.

"Love feeling you lose control," he sucks.

Your walls constrict around his fingers while he sucks harder and curls his fingers upward while he milks your orgasm hard making your come pool all over his chin and palm.

"Goddamn. I love you, baby. Look at this mess," he whispers, fingers still inside of you. His eyes never leaving your cunt as you buck at the overstimulation. He finally let's you recover, licking his fingers clean and wiping is face. He kisses his way up from your navel, your ribs, both of your hard nipples, to your chest, neck and lastly on your lips. You taste your arousal all over his tongue as he kisses you deeper, you feel his hard member pressed against your pelvis.

"Say it back and I'll fuck you," he propositions playfully. You laugh against his lips and reach between you to guide him inside.

"I love you, John Shen."

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carmenlikeme · 21 days ago

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—would you still love me if i was a silverback gorilla?

summary: same as "would you still love me if I was a worm?" but a silverback gorilla bc I got inspired by this tiktok, this will def be more parts

characters: Frank Langdon, Dennis Whitakaer, Mateo Diaz, John Shen, Jack Abbot

a/n: omg i laughed SO MUCH making these LOOL I got carried away with some this time so ill make more parts haha

my requests are open!!

#the pitt #carmenlikeme #jack abbot #the pitt fanfiction #jack abbot x reader #the pitt imagine #the pitt x reader #dr abbot x reader #frank langdon x reader #dr langdon x reader #mateo diaz x reader #john shen x reader #dr shen x reader #frank langdon fanfic #dennis whitaker x reader #dr whitaker x reader

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jackrrabbot · 1 month ago

Text

after hours, before the dawning

john shen x fem!reader

word count ~6.2k

content warnings/description: 18+ MDNI, explicit sexual content, AFAB reader, dubcon (shen is pushy and in love but reader is lowkey into it), power imbalance, vaginal fingering, pussyjob, on-call room shenanigans, typical show descriptions of violence

author's note: this is probably way too ooc, but i think that just means we need more shen content in s2 :)

masterlist

john shen is more nuanced than you initially thought.

You’re scheduled for the night shift tonight.

It’s your first time working it in ages. In fact, you can only recall working it one or two times, several months ago, with Dr. Abbot as the senior attending.

The night crew is down a resident—one who’s leaving for maternity leave for twelve weeks—and you were happy to volunteer when Robby shopped the offer around to fill in for her.

Initially, no one seemed too keen on switching, with the exception of Santos and Mohan, who will be rotating with you after the first few weeks.

It’s not like you don’t enjoy working days, but you have always felt like more of a nightcrawler—staying up late post-shift because you don’t want the night to pass you by in a drab dream, even if you suffer the next day for it.

With night shift, you'll be done with work just as most of the city is waking up, getting ready for it. It’s a delusory, beguiling thought, but you welcome it. Life moves on without pause for the daily terrors you face—and that gives you some comfort.

Recognition of the things that go bump in the night also gives you solace—at least you know to expect the worst. Even with a few years of working day shift under your belt, your brain still wrestles with how a bright, sunny day can coexist with the horrors you face in the ED.

Only a few minutes into your shift, and you’re faced with something you’re not prepared for: the stark contrast between the day and night shift crews.

You don’t necessarily categorize yourself as a typical day shift type A personality—you land somewhere in between types A and B—but a good chunk of the folks working at this time are the epitome of type B personalities.

With John Shen being the most obvious example.

You step up to him a few minutes before rounds begin.

“Hi, Dr. Shen.” You wave in his face, drawing him from an absurdly high level in Candy Crush. “I’ll be subbing in for Dr. Williams over the next three weeks. I’m glad to be here.”

He takes a quick glance at you, looks back down at his phone, then jerks his head back up at you. “Oh, it’s you! Right on. Dr. Abbot told me you’d be starting here tonight… funny, I guess this is our first time working a shift together, huh? What’s up?” Shen puts his phone in the pocket of his top, halfway to falling out.

“Oh, I wasn’t sure if Dr. Abbot told you or not. I’m just checking in. I believe Robby will be passing the baton to Dr. Mohan next, but I’ll be the first to step in for Dr. Williams.”

“Gotcha. Thanks for letting me know. To be honest… I’m glad you’re here. Shit gets crazy at times and we’re already understaffed. With Dr. Williams gone, things would’ve been a real headache, and I don’t want more work.”

“Uh… yeah. No problem,” you deadpan back.

Shen, ignoring your stiff response, notices your badge. He pulls it from where it's clipped onto your breast pocket, inspecting it.

“How’s R3 life been treating you, by the way? Christ, you look so damn young… in less than two years you’ll be in my shoes. ” Shen looks from between your face and your ID photo, confirming what he’s seeing is real.

“Yeah, um—I went to med school right after I got my bachelor’s.”

“Ah… that explains it. Nice photo. The quality is usually shit, but you made it work.” He lets go of the badge, the elastic snapping it back to your pocket, and you jolt from the sensation.

You cough lightly. “Thanks. I’m actually really looking forward to becoming an attending. The weight of the responsibility is daunting, but also… exhilarating?”

“Yeah, I'm right with you there. The money helps too, for sure.” He smiles lightly.

You give him a polite smile back.

Shen bends over slightly and pats your shoulder. “Hey, that was a joke—well… not really. But what I’m trying to say is you can laugh. If you’ve never worked nights before you’ll come to understand we’re pretty good at keeping things light. Don’t let Dr. Abbot catch you goofing off, though.”

You chuckle softly and nod. “I’ve definitely noticed the difference in attitude even before rounds. Anyway… I need to head to the restroom. I’ll be back.”

Shen gives you a nod and a thumbs-up, watching you walk away until you turn the corner.

It’s nearly midnight and your gown is drenched in blood.

You’d be annoyed that specks of it got on your face and shoes, but you're just a tad too traumatized from the case you finished to care.

A hit and run, not an unusual scenario, but the circumstances were slightly different from what you’re used to.

The driver was most likely drunk when they were barreling down the road and hit barhoppers who were walking along a more discreet street. They got away, seemingly unscathed, as they reversed and sped past the victim—a college senior, celebrating her approaching graduation with some friends.

It is Friday night, after all—with good weather too.

You, along with Dr. Shen, Ellis, and Walsh, managed to stabilize the young woman, who has a traumatic brain injury, internal bleeding with damage to multiple internal organs, and a fractured leg. Not to mention superficial injuries.

Her friends are crying, holding each other in the waiting room, and her parents are on their way, having booked the first direct flight out from her home state.

You feel for her friends and family, but she’s lucky. She’ll recover physically and she has a support system in place to help her recover emotionally. This is really the best case scenario, considering.

What if the driver gets away? You’re a doctor, not law enforcement.

What if she doesn’t recover in time for graduation? She’s alive.

You move in a holding pattern like this for a few minutes before you shake your head and wring your hands, wiping clean the negative thoughts that are eating away at you.

If you don’t nip them in the bud now they’ll fester and haunt your waking life. So you take a deep breath, and consider yourself moved on.

This is what you expected, remember? Typical dead of night dread, and all that.

You walk out of the patient room, Shen following closely behind, with Ellis and Walsh behind him.

“Go team. Call me back if there’s anything more interesting that comes in,” Walsh says with a tight-lipped smile, walking away before anyone can respond.

You look back at her. She's a badass. But cold. Typical surgeon meets former military energy.

Shen draws you back. “Hey, you both did great in there. We saved her—let’s remember that, alright? Her family is on the way, and everything will be fine,” Shen says, holding out his fists.

You give Ellis a side glance, and she returns it with a knowing look, as if to say Just do it.

You both fist bump him, and he grins, appeased.

“Cool.” Shen moves his hands to his hips, and he glances down at his watch.

“Lunch room, ladies? It’s just about time for a midnight snack.” He winks at the both of you, heading to the lunch room, throwing his bloodied gown and gloves into the trash bin in the process.

Your eyes drill holes into Shen’s back as he passes by. “Dr. Ellis… um, well first I want to say thank you for guiding me through that procedure earlier… but, uh—”

“—You want to know how Shen is so laid back?”

“You caught me.” You chuckle awkwardly. “I’ve had my fair share of tough cases, but even so, I still get shaken up every once in a while.”

“Yeah, we all do. Some less than others. But Shen is definitely something else.” Ellis looks in the direction of the lunch room and shakes her head. “I don’t know. Maybe he'll tell you if you ask him.”

Ellis points to the nurse’s station. “I have to do some charting, but keep me updated on the patient in Trauma One. He should be ready for discharge in a few hours but we still need to keep an eye on him.”

You nod. “Okay. Got it.”

You watch her walk toward the nurse’s station then head to the break room.

Shen calls your name as you step inside. “Hey, I saved you a seat. Didn’t think you would join me. Where’s Ellis?”

You don’t bring up the fact that there’s only one table with three seats. “Oh, she’s at the station, charting.”

“Figures, she typically declines my invitations anyway. So much for being ER besties.”

“Do you typically have time for… snack time?” you ask, a bit mockingly.

“Nah, not usually. But after midnight there's a lull—it’s a lot more quiet in the ED. A few minutes won’t hurt.”

“Right… well, I should probably go, actually. I have patients—work to do,” you point behind you with your thumb.

“Hey, I know I have a don’t-give-a-shit-attitude and that’s probably off-putting, but don’t doubt that I’m still on top of things. You can put your faith in me. We’re a team, alright?”

You open your mouth in shock at that. Maybe you have been a smidge judgmental toward him thus far.

You sigh. “You’re right, Dr. Shen. I’m sorry. You have a much different mentoring style than that of Dr. Robby or Abbot. But it’s not an excuse. I’ll be better about that from now on.”

“Good. Now sit with me for a few minutes. I want you to try this and tell me if it tastes weird.”

“Wh-what?” You gape back at him.

Shen waves you over. “C’mon, don’t just stand there. Sit.”

You go to sit on one of the rickety chairs.

Shen slides his drink to your side of the table when he notices something. “Ah, shit. You still have a little speck of blood on your face. You didn’t get any in your eyes, right?”

“No, I was wearing eye gear—Dr. Shen, as much as I’d like to try your drink, maybe I should go to the eye wash station to get the rest of the blood off.”

“Why’d you come here if you just wanted to dip out as soon as possible?”

Honestly, why did you?

“Here.” Shen pulls a napkin from the dispenser, licks the corner, then reaches over the table to rub it on your cheek.

“Dr. Sh—this isn’t protocol!” you hiss, backing away from the napkin, but he already wiped the little bit of blood on your cheek. You can feel the saliva cooling your skin from where the napkin touched it.

Is this really happening?

You know he has a reputation for being cool, calm, and collected, but this seems to be pushing outside the boundaries of what you know is professional behavior.

He’s just too casual—almost recklessly so.

“Look—just a tiny speck. See? It’s fine, calm down. Are all residents as uptight as you?” he smirks, amused by your reaction.

You look at him, aghast. “I’m not uptight. We just need to do things the right way—it’s for good reason.”

“Whatever you say, princess. Here, try the drink,” he taps on the lid of the Dunkin cup and you notice all the buttons are pushed down and the straw is a bit chewed up.

Your face is pained. “Do you have another straw or something?”

“What, you get blood on your face and you’re really asking for another straw? Jesus, you’re killing me here,” He rolls his eyes, but his voice is playful.

“Fine.” You hold eye contact with Shen as you take a sip of the… coffee? and cough, only barely swallowing it down so it doesn’t spray all over the table and onto Shen—though you wouldn’t have minded if it did.

“What the fuck is that?” You wipe your mouth with your sleeve, already regretting trying it. Your quiet need to please and placate always seems to put you in danger. The danger—being met with the foul taste of whatever that was—in this case.

“Pistachio. I think. Man, now I’m going to have to go all shift without my caffeine. The café iced coffee isn’t nearly as good.” Shen doesn’t react to your near spit take, too worried about his stupid coffee.

“Wait, you haven’t tried it already?” So, Shen is the kind of man who chews on his straw even before taking a sip of his drink. Noted.

“No, and by your reaction I’m assuming I’ll hate it. Thanks for putting your life on the line, by the way. I really should stop trying new things.”

You could scream, but all you do is laugh. A real—slightly maniacal—but nonetheless real, laugh. You needed a little pick-me-up after the earlier case and Shen seems to be able to provide. Maybe you can get used to this—to him. Maybe.

“You’re welcome. I’m sure it wasn’t your intention, but that cheered me up after… you know. Just a little. Really though, I should probably get back to work now. I’ll see you—”

“Wait, you can’t leave without the snack.”

Oh, of course. Duh.

Shen goes to the fridge, pulling out a container of what looks like vanilla cake. From what you can see, it’s very plain. Most likely the kind that comes out of the box.

“Now, this—this is actually good. I promise. Then you can get back to work, okay?”

Shen looks inside the container and around the break-room counters as he sits back down. “Shit, I don’t think there are any forks left. I’m usually good about bringing my utensils. Do you mind?”

“Mind wha—?” Shen dips his forefinger into the frosting, and pushes it into your open mouth.

He rubs the pad of his finger along your lower gums and tongue, giving it a few pets.

Only once he’s satisfied that you got a good taste, he retreats, the suction of his finger between your lips making a wet, popping sound.

“Tasty, right?” Shen takes the same finger and puts it into his mouth, groaning. You aren’t quite sure if there was any frosting left on his finger after it left your mouth.

Your face heats at the way-too-relaxed intimacy. Meanwhile Shen breaks off what he can of the cake to feed you more—as if it’s a natural thing to do between an attending and his resident.

You hear a buzzing noise and you know it’s both of your pagers going off. Perfect timing—because you need to get out of here and away from him. Fast.

He frowns a little, not wanting to go back to reality quite so soon. “Alright, princess. I guess we really do have to go back out there now. I’ll give you more later.”

Three more hours until the end of your shift.

You’re standing outside in the ambulance bay. It’s pouring now—a freak rainstorm—on a day with otherwise good weather. The wind is whipping pellets of rain onto your face, but it’s refreshing against the muggy Pittsburgh air.

You’re waiting. For something. Someone. Shen was right, the past few hours have been much slower than during the first half of your shift. You strain your ears for the sound of sirens, but—nothing.

Suddenly, your heart rate picks up at the sound of a weeeooo, but what once started loud, fades away—probably a police car.

You hear the bay door open and close behind you, but you don’t turn around. Watchful eyes get the prize.

Shen calls your name.

“What’re you doing out here? It’s raining. Get back inside, EMTs will be here soon enough with a patient.”

“Oh, I just—I don’t know. It’s peaceful out here. I don’t mind waiting. Don’t worry, I checked up on all my patients not too long ago.”

“It’s peaceful, yet you’re waiting for chaos.” You turn your head back to Shen at that.

“Is there a problem?”

“No, not at all. Do what you want.” He raises his palms in defense. “I’m just saying— ‘be where you are; otherwise, you will miss your life.’”

You tilt your head at him and he rushes to explain.

“It’s a quote—my grandparents only ever spoke to me in proverbs or idioms. I have plenty more where that came from.” He gives you a soft smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

You turn back around. “I see. Well, it’s good advice. But kind of hard to follow when you work in emergency medicine. I feel like I’m always on the lookout for something. Even if I want to take a moment to just… be.”

“Is that why you volunteered for night shift? So things aren’t as… neurotic?” Shen asks, stepping up and next to you with his arms crossed.

“Yeah—that and I like the nighttime—but now that I’m here the peace and quiet is making me restless.” You cast your eyes downward. “Ignore me—I’m just making excuses again.”

“No, it’s okay. I was like you only a few years ago. Too wrapped up in work that I couldn’t even take a breath. And when I did I felt like I didn’t deserve it. But I’ve learned to not let that happen again.”

“How?”

Shen tilts his head toward you, admiring the softness in your tone—muted by the rain—and the way the hazy glow of the streetlights shapes your silhouette. But you’re still looking down at your feet and too in your head to notice.

“My grandparents passed away during the height of COVID. This was when I was still an intern and too busy to spend time with them. I’ve worked through my guilt—don’t look at me with those sad eyes—I’m just saying that I understand. And you’ll learn to compartmentalize. This job requires it. And as Robby says—”

“—Find balance, if you can.” You smile at him.

Is this it? His modus operandi? What makes him… tick? But you don’t ask him. What started as a burning curiosity to understand his psychology has been tempered by the downpour.

You like that he told you about his grandparents. It makes him seem real. You want to know more about him. For who he really is. Not as the caricature of levity you initially imagined.

“Thanks, I’ll work on it. And… thanks for telling me about your grandparents. You speak very fondly of them.”

“They were pretty up there in age when they passed—I was crushed, but I had a lot of time with them.” Shen rubs the nape of his neck. “Uh—don’t tell anyone about this, okay? Even Parker doesn’t know.”

“I can keep secrets from many people—but not Dr. Ellis.”

“Ah, well, try—if you can. I have to keep up appearances. I don’t want to be seen as too sentimental.” He pouts his lips, but is unserious.

You chuckle. “Okay. Fair enough.”

Shen gives you a look, a twinkle in his eye.

“C’mon, follow me. You can wait for calamity in one of the on-call rooms instead of out here in the rain.”

You follow Shen back inside and, with your luck, you see Ellis catch you two in the corner of your eye, her brow raised.

This wasn’t suspicious at all.

But you can’t help but trail behind him like a lost puppy, anyway.

Shen stands by the door, guiding you inside, then quickly looks in both directions before closing it, locking it with a soft click.

You don’t hear him do it.

“So…” You chuckle awkwardly. “What did you bring me in here for, specifically? I actually realized that I have some discharge papers I have to take care of...”

It isn’t a lie. But you're masking the real reason for your nervousness—this is too comfortable. You can’t help but want to run away.

And yet, at every opportunity tonight, you followed him.

“I want to help you relax. Do you trust me?”

“I do... but what are you talking about?”

Shen dims the lights before taking a few long strides toward you, pulling at your waist so your body is flush against his.

“I’ve been wanting to do this all night,” Shen mumbles into your neck, nudging you toward the couch. He flips you just before you hit the cushion so that your back falls into his chest.

“Dr. Shen—wh-what are you doing?” you whisper, not wanting to bring attention to anyone who might be walking outside the room.

“I’m just helping you relax. You need to unwind, honey.” He licks a stripe up your neck. He really seems to have a fascination with it.

He pulls your scrubs down, just enough that he can stretch your legs over the width of his thick thighs, keeping your legs open. You shiver at the change in temperature.

Your panties are hooked to the side with his hand, exposing you. You turn your head to lay in the crook of his neck, embarrassed.

But you don’t tell him to stop.

This is inappropriate, you think. But… he’s your attending, he knows what you need.

He's just trying to help you relax, right?

He doesn’t actually like—... You don’t finish your thought.

He’s just a good attending caring for his resident. That’s all.

“Sh-Shen—

“John—call me… John.”

His name escapes your tongue in a breathy whisper. “J-John, any—anyone can walk in,” you muffle against his shoulder.

He has a woody scent—pine and patchouli—with a dash of stale, bitter coffee. It gives his scent a sharp edge—an acquired taste. You think you like it.

Shen gently glides his fingers over your wet folds, throwing his head back into the couch and groaning when he spreads his digits and the slick strings break apart.

“It’s okay, baby. I locked the door. Quick thinking, right?” John looks down at you, but your head is still turned into his neck.

“You—you wanted this. From the very beginning. ‘S not quick thinking—this was your plan all along, right? To get me like this?” You turn your head slightly so you’re rasping directly into his ear.

“And what’s that?” His breathing picks up.

You’re too shy to admit it. You’re soaked. You’re more worried about getting caught than what he’s doing to you. You want him to touch you.

“...Distracted and b-begging you to keep touching me.”

John nearly blacks out at your whimpering voice.

He doesn’t admit to his schemes, but being the smart girl you are—you’re spot on.

John’s taken an interest in you since you started in the ED, slyly watching you at the nurse’s station during handoffs but has always been a hairsbreadth too late to get you alone. To get to know you. To do this the right way. But Dr. Williams gave him his chance. You’re here—working the night shift with him. And he’s patient, but not patient enough that he’d miss his chance to make his mark.

From what he's already seen of you today—mind and body—he’s besotted. He wants to cut ahead to the good part.

The one thing you get wrong is that this is just to settle your nerves. No. He needs this just as much as you do.

You press his buttons the right way—all the right ways—not unlike the Dunkin lid from earlier.

John tucks his middle and ring finger into your cunt, slowly, so you can adjust. He nearly chokes on his spit at the feel of your warmth wrapping around him. His other hand splits your pussy and rubs tight circles into your puffy clit and you writhe in his arms.

He’s not soft nor romantic about it. He wants you to come—quick, efficient, and yet hard enough to make your thighs close in overstimulation.

And your thighs do, rather, they try to. They press against his, but his thighs are locked in place, keeping you moored. You attempt to pull his fingers away at the overwhelming feeling of your clit being stroked, but he doesn’t budge. Your cunt squelches from the insistent pace of his other hand, the lewd sound making you want to jump out the nearest window.

You come with a cry, sobbing John and “fuck” more times than you can count. John covers your mouth with his tacky fingers as you do. You twitch against him, the aftershocks of your orgasm still running through you. His scrubs are soaked from your juices, but if it bothers him, he makes no sign of it.

John lets you rest against his chest for a few seconds, petting your inner thighs, but then he’s maneuvering your body to lay across the couch.

He’s silent, razor-focused, as he peels off your pants and underwear, your come sticking to the cotton fabric. Your legs are lifted over his broad shoulders, and he dips his head to drink straight from the source.

You’re too dazed to tell him you need more time to recover from your previous orgasm.

But he’s gentle with you, aware of your oversensitivity. And as he licks in and around your hole, he avoids your clit. He’s not trying to make you come again. He just wants to taste you.

And that makes you go hot.

John grunts as he eats you out, eyes closed and drunk on your taste. He sucks one of your folds into his mouth, moaning, and you can feel the vibration shooting through you, making your clit jump.

He gives you a reprieve, lifting up and adjusting his cock through his scrubs—not before splitting the seam of your cunt gently with his digits, punctuating it with a light slap. You nearly seize up again.

You can make out the outline of his cock in the dark. It’s above average in length—thickening up, as it twitches against his thigh. You gulp.

John catches you staring and quirks an eyebrow at you.

“I’m not going to fuck you. Not here. I am going to spoil you a little though, okay?” He stares at you—waiting for you to respond—and you can only nod, even though you aren’t quite sure what definition of "spoil” he means.

He pulls down his scrubs, exposing his cock to you. Your breath hitches.

The tip is wet, pre-come dribbling from the slit. You have half a mind to wrap your fingers around it and suck, but you decide against it. There’s no need to go out of your way for a man who takes what he wants like it’s owed to him, anyway.

He shuffles you down the couch a tad, and lifts under your thighs and rests them against the tops of his.

John presses his cock against your cushiony folds with his thumb, rutting the veiny underside against them. His cock slides over your clit, and you moan, wriggling against the couch.

You lift his top just enough to place your palms on his abdomen, seeking more of his warmth.

His free hand gropes your breast over your top, and John frowns, slightly frustrated by the layers of clothing impeding his access to your nipple.

In his distraction the tip of his dick catches against the entrance to your hole, making you gasp.

“Sorry, honey—accident,” John reassures you, slightly out of breath.

He glides against your wet pussy a little faster now, too pent-up. You come again due to the friction, but it’s softer, less intense, like a seiche apologizing for the destruction its sister tsunami caused.

“Yeah—that’s it, baby. You feel so good coming on my cock like this,” John praises you, panting. You can only lightly scratch his hip bone in response—completely and utterly worn out.

After a few more strokes he comes with a rumbling groan, bearing his weight on you as he collapses into your chest—cock spurting thick, warm come over your lower belly.

You both stay still and silent for a few minutes, catching your breath in the aftermath.

John moves first.

He lifts himself from you, admiring his handiwork—spreading his come with his fingers over your soft belly—then drags his fingers down to your wet clit. He rubs mindless shapes into it, making it even shinier with his come.

You moan lightly, still sensitive and he stops, as if pulled from a trance. He brings his palms to grip your cheeks and lower jaw—pouting your lips—and tries to pull you into a deep kiss.

You push against his chest in just enough time to stop him as he nears. You clutch his shirt, unsure if you really want to push or pull him away. But you make up your mind.

“N-no kissing. I still need some of my… dignity left intact.”

He gives you a sorrowful look and you almost want to change your mind. “You’re kidding, right? You seriously won’t let me kiss you?”

You shake your head no, and he comes closer still—but he kisses you gently on the forehead instead.

“Okay, honey. Maybe another time,” he coos at you, rubbing your cheek with his thumb.

You look up at him.

“There’s only tonight. That’s it. We—we can’t do this again. It’s… not right.”

“Yeah, well, we do have to go back out there soon, as much as I would like to continue tonight. But you have a few more weeks on the night shift right?”

“That’s not what I meant.” You nearly tear up. He wants this… again?

He ignores you. “Get dressed, honey.”

John lifts you up and rearranges the two of you so you’re sitting side by side on the couch and hands you a small rag from within his pocket. You don’t ask if he’s already had it prepared. You wipe the come from your stomach then pick your clothes up off the floor and shimmy into them.

He nudges your side. “So… Do you feel any better? How’d I do?”

You sigh, pouting, not willing to admit it. “Yes, what you did was… good. Really good. Um—t-thanks. I guess I did need that. I do feel more relaxed now, at least, about work.” You chew on your lip, feeling conflicted. What happens now?

“Awesome. Well, we should get back out there before anyone notices we’ve been gone too long. You head out first. I’ll wait here for a few minutes.”

You stand from the couch and take a few steps, but turn to John. His stocky arms are fully stretched out on the couch behind him and his face looks flushed. His cock is still visibly half-hard, even now that it’s tucked into his scrubs.

“Um, that moment in the break room earlier—was that you just being friendly? You did it like it’s… normal to feed your colleagues cake like that. Was that… just for me?”

“I massaged your tongue with my finger and you think I was just being friendly?” John laughs. “No, baby. That was only for you. I know I’m a pretty lax guy, but even that’s a line I won’t cross for just anybody.”

“O-oh.” Your body temperature rises a few degrees. “Yeah… I guess that’s true.”

You walk out of the room.

You walk toward the nurse’s station, spot Ellis still there, and make a beeline for the opposite direction.

She calls your name just as you think you’re out of sight.

“Dr. Ellis, do you need something?” you ask as you begrudgingly approach, hoping you don’t sound as distraught as you feel.

“Did you and Dr. Shen find what you were looking for in there?” She points toward the on-call room with her pen.

“Uh—yes!” You nod vehemently. “We did… we uh—we thought we heard one of the rats from that patient a few weeks ago. We gave up on searching for it after a while…”

She chuckles. “Okay, whatever you say. It’s not like Shen is the only attending I know looking for rats with his resident,” she mumbles under her breath, looking at the computer screen.

Ellis knows. Ellis knows—but you don’t focus on that.

Instead, your eyes open wide in shock. No… not… Dr. Abbot and Samira?

“Um,” you cough, trying to appear indifferent, but failing, “Not that I’m admitting that anything happened in the on-call room, but are you referring to a certain night shift attending and another R3 perhaps?”

Ellis jerks her head back, now pointing her pen at you. She whispers, “How’d you know about that?”

You whisper back, “Samira and I are pretty close… but she’s only told me about a ‘silly little crush,’ her words, not mine. Thanks for confirming my hunch, I guess?”

“Shit. Don’t tell anyone else got it? I don’t need all this to somehow blow up in my face. And don’t think you’re off the hook. I know what happened in there with you and John.”

“Okay. I won't. I promise.” You give in, there’s no point in denying it.

You nod at each other, in sync. What you don’t tell her is that you plan to ask Samira about this. You won’t mention Ellis, though.

Ellis sees John stepping out of the on-call room from behind you. He catches her eye, brings a finger to his lips, then speeds away.

She looks back at you. “How're you liking the night shift? Thinking about maybe making a permanent switch? We need more bodies. Plus you’re not too bad a doctor… for an R3,” she winks.

“I’m… considering it. The case with the college girl earlier threw me a bit off—but Jo—Dr. Shen helped me calm down a bit.” You still need to be professional.

“Yeah, I bet.”

You nod, a bit embarrassed. “Well, I have to get back to some patients. I’m going to let the social worker know that the patient in Trauma One is ready for discharge now.”

A few seconds pass. “Are you going to—?”

Ellis cuts you off.“—Consider it forgotten. Like I said, I really don’t need the drama to impact my work. But a word of advice? Give the poor guy a chance. It’s so obvious that he likes you. But definitely take that shit home—it’s just uncouth and bad luck.” She says that last part with a shake of her head and a smile playing on her lips.

It’s good advice. And you realize you still have a lot to learn about John Shen.

Obvious?

“Duly noted. Thank you, Dr. Ellis, really.” You smile wide at her before leaving the station.

It’s quitting time and you search for John before he leaves for the day. He’s managed to evade you for the last few hours but you want—need—to talk to him.

You’ve made a mistake. And now you want to set things right.

You hear him before you see him, whistling a forgettable tune, as he leaves a patient’s room. You call his name and he blows out a single high pitched note in acknowledgement.

“Yo, you alright? Shift was over a few minutes ago.”

Again, his casualness? After fingering you in the on-call room? This man is giving you whiplash.

“Dr. Shen—

He sighs. He wanted to avoid this conversation. “—Look, I understand if you want to switch back to days. I can let Robby know. I think Dr. Mohan is next, right?” He gives you a wrought smile and maneuvers around you to head to the locker rooms.

You stop him with a gentle touch on his shoulder. “No—I was just going to say… I had a good time working with you today. I—I hope we can continue to work together even after Dr. Williams comes back. And, uh—I really did enjoy our one-on-one earlier. I hope my skittishness hasn’t offended you.”

You look down at your shoes, more interested in the laces that have fallen loose. You almost bend down to re-tie them before John interrupts you.

He knocks his fist under your chin, making you look up at him. His face lights up as he meets your eyes. “Huh, wasn’t expecting that, to be honest. No offense taken… really. So, what changed?”

You sigh. “Things happened so fast and I just got caught up in my own swirl of deprecating thoughts. But I see now that you really just wanted to help me… in your own way. But not because you think I needed help. But because… well—.”

“—Because I like you?” John says in a low voice, frightened of what you might say next. He can’t hide behind jokes or excuses this time.

You nod. “And I guess—I guess I’d like the chance to get there too… not that I don’t like you. Uh—what I meant is—”

John holds his hand up, stopping you from over-explaining. “—I get it. And I’ll take that. Does that mean I can kiss you now?”

“No! No, not—not here. Whatever this is,” you whisper, pointing between the two of you, “it stays outside the hospital, got it?” You whip your head around, scandalized and afraid someone might overhear.

John just gives you a hearty laugh. He’ll try, but he’s not making any promises. “Say, want to grab breakfast together? My treat.”

You give him a blank look, caught off-guard from the change in topic. “Oh! Uh—sure, let me grab my stuff from the locker room… I’ll meet you outside?”

He nods and you turn away from him, but not before giving him a shy smile.

You’re so cute, he thinks to himself, lovesick.

He grins as he watches you speed walk down the hallway and only slightly regrets not doing this in a more conventional way, but maybe now he can make up for lost time.

#the pitt #smut #the pitt fanfiction #john shen #dr shen #dr shen x reader #dr shen x you #john shen x reader #john shen x you #john shen fanfic #dr shen fanfic #rev.writes

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lc-birdie · 2 months ago

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I would love to read your thoughts on Shen

Ok this is me slightly projecting but I see alot of myself in Shen (or Shen in me)

Some Background

From the jump, we see Shen as this almost too calm character; to the point, some thought he would be out of his depth and incapable of handling the MCI. That quickly gets pushed back into no hes just a cool-headed (probably jaded) doctor that is self-assured and confident in his abilities and capabilities. He's also the "utensil specialist" which I'm taking to mean he's prob been 'forced' to remove a utensil or 2.

Headcanons (sfw)

He's the type that really studies his partner bc that's what he's already programed to do; he's made it this far to being an attending and still listens to medical history podcasts. he's dedicated to his passions and his partner would be one of those. i.e. he knows all the lil quirks the twitches in your sleep, the way you take your coffee, your under the weather meal. All the things that makes his person tick

I can see him being very clingy but not into PDA. at home he's going to be attached to you like a second skin. you're washing the dishes he's wrapping his arms around you and resting his head against you. you're cleaning, he's 2 steps away working in tandem with you. watching TV on the couch, at minimum needs your feet resting on his lap but more often than not he's going to be laid across the couch with his head in your lap asking for you to scratch his head.

However PDA is a no-go. He has moments where he's kinda jokey and a lil awkward (when he joked about getting the holidays off) and immediately backed away from the joke when he felt push back. PDA kinda puts too much attention/opinion(?) his way. like he wouldn't wanna be perceived in an unfavorable way.

He's gotta be stubborn as shit. For him to be a healthcare worker for atleast 6 years (med school+residency) and still using the "q-word" yk he's been scolded multiple times for that shit and still does it. he's going to have his particular ways to household stuff

He's also gotta be a home-body. he admitted himself that the only thing he had going on was his interest in medical history and he works nights. that doesn't leave alot of time for normal people activities nor the energy really so I see him wanting someone who's gonna be chill with him

Headcanons (NSFW)

He studies his partner so obviously he's going to know just how to get them off. from the first time onwards, he is going to keep notes on likes and dislikes, favorite positions, which surfaces give him the best access, etc

Along with the clinginess, obviously turning into cuddling after sex. I think it would also manifest into marking. He's gonna want to leave little love bites, maybe so bruises on the hips where he might have gone a lil too hard one night, in places where only he has access to seeing them

he's definitely a giver. he wants his partner to be thoroughly pleased and begging for more

also definitely into cockwarming, like just let him be close to you. he'll lock his arms around you, holding you to his chest, planting lil kisses on your head and the sides of your face

kinda unserious in bed. he obviously is going to want to make his partner feel good but wouldn't be the "daddy/sir" type. he's going to laugh to himself when one of yalls hip cramps a lil or when a weird noise just kinda happens. the whole act is going to have a more tender and chill atmosphere

wildcard: he's a biter but like in a cuteness aggression type of way like "fuck I love you so much I just need to bite your shoulder or arm or whatever is accessible

IDK this went longer than I expected and I'm probably going to expand more later. 💖

#the pitt #the pitt x reader #the pitt imagine #headcanons #john shen #dr shen #john shen x reader #dr shen x reader

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thinkerer24 · 18 days ago

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Would you write john shen smut? :))

Mhmmmm mhmmm yes anon my tummy be tingling thinking about that beauty.

Filth under the cut (as always) ��

A little known fact about John Shen is that he wears glasses. Thick, black frames sit heavy on his nose when he's in the comfort of his home, never outside, flipping through the pages of the latest issue of a medical journal. It wasn't that he was ashamed, per se, it just didn't feel like...him. He could spend an entire day not caring about other people's opinions of him but the second he imagined someone looking at his bespectacled face, a shiver ran through his body. Which was an outright shame since he looked absolutely adorable in them.

You barged into his apartment without much fanfare, opening the door with the extra key he had bestowed you with. It was still pretty early in your relationship but he wasn't one to shy away from commitment; his easy demeanour one of the first things that attracted you to him. Your entry, however was met with a frantic John, who scrambled up from his seat on the comfy divan, papers flying from his lap and his glasses snatched from atop his nose by deft fingers.

"uhhh...hi?" You squeaked, wondering if you walked in on something you weren't supposed to; but couldn't quite place a finger on what was wrong. Maybe waltzing in unannounced was a bad idea despite his repeated assurances to use the key whenever you wanted?

John looked embarrassed more than annoyed, though, a pretty pink flush reddening the tops of his nose and tips of his ears.

Cute.

"I- uh, um. I was- uh. I don't even know, honestly." His shoulders slump and you let out a little giggle.

"What's wrong baby?"

He just looks around the mess he made on the floor, shrugging and made a noncommitant noise. His puppy like eyes looked up at you and oh, your heart just melted.

"I didn't know you wore glasses?" You offered helpfully, trying to gauge his mood but you didn't know you just made the situation worse.

John let out a childish whine and slumped down on the couch, pouting up at you. "I don't like wearing them."

You laughed before you realised he was serious about it and your disposition instantly straightened. You walked over to him, gently sitting on his lap and his arms instantly wrapped themselves around your ample hips.

"And why is that?"

"It makes me look nerdy. I'm not a nerd."

You furrowed your brows together and held him by the cheeks. "Sweetie, you're the biggest nerd I know."

He rolled his eyes and tried to push you off but you persevered and squished his cheeks even harder. "LISTEN to me. You know my complicated ass coffee order after listening to me shout it over the phone ONCE. You recognise which part of my cycle I'm in by how tender my fucking breasts are. You know the exact moment I'm about to go crazy because I haven't eaten in more than four hours. You know EXACTLY which show I MIGHT want to watch after saying no to every recommendation but loving it once you've started it. So yeah, you're the biggest fucking nerd but you're MY nerd."

His mouth gapes open like a fish and you could see the neurons struggle to connect. He shakes his head and lets out a sigh. "That was so cheesy, babe."

You giggle again and the movement makes you brush up against his crotch, making him gasp, and ....oh.

"I didn't know you get turned on by sappy words, pretty boy" Your hands trailed their way down from his cheek to the long slope of his neck and rested on top his pecs, where his nipples have hardened.

"I- uh"

"Put those glasses on, baby. Let me see you."

Wordlessly, he reached for his glasses and put them on and oh, how your pussy clenched at his huge eyes staring at you so hopefully.

Your hips gyrated once, twice and his grip on you tightened. Your fingers tweak his nipples and he sighed, his head dropping down. You shifted off his lap and onto your knees on the floor, deft fingers quickly pulling his drawstring open and yanking his pants down his hips. He was half hard already, his cock head twitching with interest. You look up at him and see him beginning to pant already, his glasses fogging up at an alarming rate. You smirk to yourself and drop your jaw open, wide tongue licking a strip up the underside of his member. A loud groan reverberated in the closed hallroom, making the hairs on your neck stand up. His hands gripped the couch cushions and his thighs clenched before letting out a tiny plea.

"Please?"

You nodded and pressed closer between his thighs, both hands coming up to stroke his cock, pursing your lips to drop some spit over his pretty cockhead that was beginning to turn as red as the rest of him. You smeared the saliva all over him and one hand reached to squeeze his balls, making his chest cave in.

" please please please, sweetheart, I-"

Your jaw opened and you took his entire length in your mouth and gagged slightly, knowing how much he enjoyed the feeling of his head hitting the back of your throat. His hip bucked into your mouth and you doubled your efforts, mouth forming a tight suction around his length and bobbing your head at a frantic pace. You were drooling down your chin, your hands messy with his precum and your spit, there was a crick forming in your neck due to the movement, but you didn't care, not really, not when your beloved John needed a little TLC.

Your tongue traced every throbbing vein, all the way from his sensitive tip to his thick base. One hand retracted his foreskin and your eyes looked up at his as you dipped your tongue slightly into his slit. You smile at him and ask, "Is this all it takes for you to come, sweetheart?" The tease evident in your tone.

John was usually docile in the bedroom, letting you lead the dance and ride him till you reach completion since he loved the way your tits bounced in his face. However, you'd been teasing him ever since you'd stepped foot in the door and evidently, he'd had enough.

One hand finds its way into your hair and tugs it backwards, making you gasp loudly. He leans down until his nose is right upto yours and snarls, "Think you're being reaal smart, aren't you?"

His other hand comes up to your throat and grabs it hard, pulling you up to your feet. He towers over you like this; all strength and vitality, and you melt in his grip. He pushes you back to the wall and squeezes your neck even tighter. Your eyes widen as your airflow cuts off but you can feel a gush of slick wetten your panties. By the look in his eyes, he's figured that out too.

You scoff and push his glasses up his nose with one finger. "Yep," you say, popping the p.

Ohhh, you're in trouble now.

"If I put my hand inside that pretty cunt is it going to be all wet for me? Huh, sweetie? Is it doing to drip down my knuckles?"

You try to speak but the lack of oxygen is getting to your brain and the edges of your vision blur; slight spots dancing in their stead and your eyes roll back with a moan.

"Cat got your tongue?"

His rough hands dip under your skirt and find your damp panties at once, not bothering to take them off and just moves them to the side to shove two thick fingers in your cunt. You both groan simultaneously at the feeling. His other hand lets go of your throat and you feel your cunt flutter as his fingers fuck you roughly. You gasp for air, you hands reaching behind his neck to scratch at the skin there, eager to find some bearing. His fingers are relentless; thick and long and slamming into your spot with such precision, your head starts spinning. You're gasping and drooling into his neck and you're begging for relief but John is a man on a mission tonight.

His thumb reach your clit and one, two, three strong swipes and you're done for; a loud, messy orgasm frying every nerve ending in your body and twisting your core into painful spasms. He bites your ear lobes and whispers praise as you ride out your high, but doesn't let you rest as he bends down slightly and lifts you up by the back of your thighs and wraps your legs around his lower back. His strength shocked you but you didn't have time to let it be known as his lips crash into yours, moaning loudly and sweetly into your open mouth. You push his head away slightly and look at his face, his glasses completely fogged up due to your breath and you take it off immediately and fold it into your tshirt.

"Damn these glasses, Shen"

He laughs and kisses you again, your hands reaching between you to grip his hard cock and position it between your dripping folds. His moans get needier as he pushes inside your wet heat and immediately starts a frantic pace. Your mouth is gaping and you can't kiss him properly anymore because, my GOD, if there's one thing John can do, it's fuck you like it's his last day on Earth.

His thrusts are rough and quick, eager to reach his end but hitting all the right spots with anatomical accuracy. Both his hands readjust on your thighs to splay over your ass and he uses that as leverage to pump into your harder. You're boneless, your legs hanging limp atop his elbows and your tits pushed up into his face. He curses the lack of foresight to not undress you completely and wishes he could grope them, kiss them, lick them, suck them, anything at all. You whine out his name, shoving him further into your chest and he whimpers; rutting into your wetness like a rabid dog. You can feel another orgasm approaching at the base of your spine and you know this one is going to be explosive.

"Johnnn?" Your stuttering breaths give way to a whiny moan and he looks up into your eyes.

"I know, baby. Come for me"

That's all the permission you needed before your back arches and your legs shake and a fire-like sensation burns across your nerve endings, obliterating your consciousness. You're not flesh and blood anymore, just a bottomless pit of pleasure and you come and come and come until you feel his hips stuttering. He releases deep inside you, roughly biting your neck as he finishes.

Whew.

You're breathing heavily as you come down from your high, hands caressing his hair softly as his huffing breaths tickle your neck. He stays motionless for a long time, long enough to feel his sticky come drip down your thighs and cool into your skin.

He pulls back after a while, eyes boring into yours.

"Okay, yeah, I really can't read without those glasses I don't know how they hired me at the Pitt, man."

#the pitt #the pitt hbo #the pitt smut #dr john shen #dr shen #dr shen x reader #dr shen x reader smut #dr john shen smut #dr john shen x you #john shen #john shen x reader #shen x reader smut #dr shen the pitt

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ovaryacted · 9 days ago

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Shen’s the type of nonchalant freaky where you’ll be standing at the nurse’s station, typing something in, and he’ll come up behind you to discuss a patient and press his crotch into your ass, one arm leaning on the station in front of you, crowding you in and smiling to himself as you breath hitches and you stumble over your words and you glare at him… these are my thots

YESSS!!! I love this idea of Shen being a "nonchalant freakster" like that's so fucking funny and real. But yes, I feel like Shen would do things that sort of give "perv" vibes but he does it in a way that's like "wait...do it again" cause he'll make you want the attention, and I don't think he'd be subtle about it either. Like does that make sense?

He gives me those vibes that he's the type to say "excuse me" when he's passing by you, but his hand is on your lower back, he whispers those words in your ear all hushed and quiet, just enough to send the hairs on the back of your neck to stand, groin just merely brushing over your rear as he steps away from you.

You'll be standing by the docking stand where the other ipads were, and Shen would just come up behind you, cage you in his arms to reach for an ipad infront of you, all while pressing his hips against your back and breathing in your perfume from the nape of your neck. And he'd just walk away as if he didn't do anything crazy, moving on to the next patient. He'd do the same shit when you're standing in the front by the nurse's station and looking at the spreadsheet, analyzing the current cases. He gives you no personal space, just stands real close and talks in your ear, not giving a single fuck about hiding his smirk cause he knows it's mutual, he's just trying to drag out the tension that's brewing between you.

He does the same thing when you're actually sitting and filling in some chart notes. He'll come hover behind you, watching you type away, trying to slyly correct what you just put down on the screen, maybe cracks a joke that only you would understand. Shen is always close, but still too far for your liking. He wants to make you want it, to crave his attention, to admit to him that you want him to actually touch you instead of beating around the bush and constantly teasing you. He's just waiting for you to crack first.

#john shen x reader #john shen imagine #dr shen x reader #john shen headcanons #john shen #ken kirby #the pitt #the pitt hbo #ovaryacted drabbles #ovaryacted asks #⋆♱ nic works ♱⋆

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kilojulietsierra · 1 month ago

Text

A check in for anyone that cares lol

The Dr Jack Abbot x PTWife fic (inspired by So, Now What?) is kind of kicking my ass, but I am working on it!

In the mean time I am working on Chapter Three of Send Me an Angel, which in all honesty will probably be published first. Don’t hate me lol

To those of you that have sent me requests: I have seen them! I love them! I’m working on them i promise!! One of those is a Dr Abbot x reader and the other is a Dr Shen x reader.

That is all, have a great rest of your day!

#the pitt #the pitt hbo #the pitt fanfic #the pitt fanfiction #dr jack abbot #dr robby #dr jack abbot x ofc #jack abbot x you #jack abbot x ofc #jack abbot x reader #dr jack abbot x reader #jack abbot smut #dr shen #dr john shen #dr shen x reader #dr John Shen x reader #the pitt x reader #request

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the-fall-of-hades · 2 months ago

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Hi! I've been loving your male!reader works. Can I request something small with Dr Shen and male! nurse reader? I love Dr Shen and your writings.

Hope your crops are watered, your skin is cleared and your pillow is always cool.

Thank you!!! I know I'm new to the Pitt Fandom but I just couldn't stop myself from writing for these characters. Especially since we're yearning for male Reader works.

Okay, this is going to be hella fluffy because I love fluff.

CW: This was slightly suggestive, but it's mostly fluff!

Exhaustion seeped into your bones as the adrenaline from all of the traumas you've seen in the ER left you, the night shift finally over. You grabbed your bag, thankful to be leaving the hospital soon.

There was just one last thing you had to stay for: the debriefing that was done every morning before you all could leave. You had to listen to the attending of the night shift drone on and on before you could retreat to the warmth of your home.

But perhaps it wasn't all too bad, as the new attending, Doctor Shen, wasn't that bad. He liked to add funny jokes into the debriefing, giving everyone a ray of sunshine after such a hectic night. And he was attractive to say the least.

"I'd like to thank the nurses," Doctor Shen said as he neared the end of his speech, his brown eyes moving to you and his lips pulled up into a smile the moment your eyes met. "This ER could not run without you all and I'm grateful to be able to work along side you. You're braver than any doctor here, after all you've seen and all you've put up with. So go home and let yourself be pampered. You deserve it."

That last line seemed to be directed towards you, the eye contact between you two still being held. It made your breath hitch and it took everything in you not to look away.

You managed to clap along with the other nurses, happy to be acknowledged after a whole night of being treated like the dirt under a shoe by patients and cocky interns alike. It was nice to be appreciated.

Finally, he dismissed you all, allowing you to leave.

You were the one to break eye contact first, turning on your heel to leave through the ambulance bay. The fresh air was a relief and if it weren't for your exhaustion, you would've stayed to enjoy it.

However, you were very tired so you kept pushing forward, heading towards your car. As you got to your car, you saw the day shift arriving and you waved to a few of the nurses who were coming.

Your drive home was peaceful, you enjoying the quiet this time. You were so glad to see your apartment complex come into view and you parked close to where your apartment was.

Going up the flight of stairs was the last thing you wanted to do but it had to be done. Finally, you managed to get to your apartment number and you fumbled with the keys before unlocking the door.

The moment you stepped into the door, you saw your boyfriend—Doctor John Shen—already there and taking off his shoes. He gave you a small smile as soon as you walked in the door, the smile warming your chest.

"How did you get home before me?" you asked while you also took off your shoes, not at all surprised since he liked to speed despite it being dangerous. You walked closer to him, tired but eager for a quick kiss.

"I had to be the first one here so I could set it up," John said, being vague as his hands rested on your waist and he pulled you in for a kiss. It wasn't a quick kiss like you wanted, but it was slow, like he wanted to memorize every moment of the kiss.

You pulled away shortly with a frown, your eyebrows furrowed as you looked at him. "Set it up? What is it? I wanted to just shower and go to sleep, I don't want to stay up more than I have to, John," you answered, a groan falling from your lips at the thought.

John chuckled, leaning in to kiss your cheek before letting go of you so he could intertwine your fingers together. "Don't worry, you won't have to do anything besides showering." He led you to the bedroom, where there were massage oils on the nightstand besides the bed. "I meant what I said: you nurses deserve to be pampered. And so I'm going to give you a massage."

"I might fall asleep, John."

"That is even better, baby. Just let me take care of you and you can fall asleep relaxed."

You couldn't deny that sounded good, so you practically skipped to the bathroom, a pep in your step at the thought of being pampered. You took a quick shower, eager to get the massage and drift off to sleep.

You didn't bother dressing, knowing he'd give you a full-body massage in the effort to pamper you, so you walked out of the bathroom with your towel wrapped around your waist. You treaded your way into the bedroom again, smiling to see John out of his scrubs and also showered, as he must've gone in the other bathroom to do so.

"You could've joined me in the shower," you said, amused by him giving you space despite having shared showers before.

"Baby, if I joined you, I would've fucked you despite the both of us being tired," John answered with a toothy grin. His eyes fell to your towel and he hummed in approval. "Be a good boy and drop your towel. Then lay on the bed on your stomach."

You acted on instinct to his words, dropping the towel eagerly and making your way to the bed. You laid down on the bed with your back exposed, a groan leaving your lips as you sunk into the comfy mattress below you.

The cap of the massage oil bottle being opened was heard with a crisp "snap!" and you then heard him pour some of the oil on his hands, warming it up before getting to work. You moaned softly as soon as his hands rested on your neck, John working his magic and massaging the oil into your skin.

Already, your body was relaxing and you just let go of all of the memories of the last few hours, just enjoying the massage being given. Time was a blur as John so lovingly made his way down to your back, getting all of the knots and tensions in your body.

As he moved down to your butt and legs, your exhaustion couldn't be staved off. Your eyes fluttered closed, knowing you were safe in the hands of your boyfriend.

MDNI & Support Dividers made by @cafekitsune

This was far longer than I thought it would be but I couldn't stop writing it until it was all out. I hope this was to your liking and I hope you enjoyed reading it!

Requests are open!

#the pitt #the pitt show #the pitt hbo #the pitt max #john shen #dr john shen #dr shen #john shen x male reader #john shen x reader #john shen x you #dr john shen x male reader #dr john shen x reader #dr john shen x you #dr shen x male reader #dr shen x reader #dr shen x you #the pitt fanfiction #hades writes

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rori-is-writing · 3 days ago

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"You’re so good for me.”

A The Pitt Drabble Series.

Drabbles | Explicit | Dr. Shen x Fem!Reader | 453 words ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ Summary: John has fun winding you up. ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ Tags: Dom/Sub adjacent, Daddy Kink vibes, Female Reader, Praise Kink

Read on AO3 or below the cut.

John is insufferably calm, even in bed.

It’s both his best and most annoying quality. He’ll spend hours getting you all worked up into a lather. An innocuous touch at work. A slow smile at lunch. An innocent little remark at dinner. From the outside looking in it all must seem so normal. So harmless.

But you know better.

You know he does it to mess with you. To get you so excited and out of sorts that the moment you get home he barely has to do more than kiss you and slot his leg between yours to get you off.

It would be infuriating if it wasn’t so hot.

“Please,” you say one night, breathless and flushed and so fucking horny you can’t stand it.

“Oh no,” he replies with soft, mocking clicks of his tongue. “Has my baby got herself all worked up again?”

“Fuck you,” you grumble irritably.

He smiles and you shiver.

“That’s the idea, yes.”

“Why do you do this to me?” You ask petulantly, pawing at his shirt like a cat in heat.

“Because it’s fun.”

You groan.

Thankfully, he seems to take pity on you and nudges you with his knee. “Roll over baby. Show me how wet you are.”

You scramble to do as you’re told, face and belly smashed into the duvet and ass lifted enticingly. He smoothes his hands along the back of your thighs like he’s trying to soothe a wild animal.

“Look at you,” he says, fingers skating up your thighs until they reach the lips of your cunt, peeling it apart like a piece of fruit. “You’re very wet today. Is this all for me?”

“Yes!” You sob into his duvet, fingers clutching the fabric so tightly you swear they’ll be sore later.

“Does it ache terribly?” He asks.

“Yes! Yes!”

“You just need someone to fill you up don’t you?”

You nod frantically, restlessly, and you hear him chuckle behind you. He doesn’t make you wait. Within one moment and the next you feel something hot and hard slide along the lips of your cunt and you sigh.

“That’s it,” he says, still infuriatingly calm. His cock catches at the mouth of your cunt and then, slowly, perfectly, he pushes his way inside.

You grunt, beyond words now as he slots himself inside of you like he belongs there.

“There you go baby,” it’s the first time today you hear his voice waver—just a bit—just enough for you to know this affects him as much as it does you. “You’re so good for me.”

You grin into his sheets.

“Now show me how much you wanted this.”

With a delighted shiver, you do as you’re told.

Previous Drabble | Drabble Masterlist

Thanks for reading! 💙

#the pitt drabbles #the pitt drabble #the pitt fanfiction #dr shen x reader #john shen x reader #dr shen #john shen #the pitt fanfic #the pitt fic #drabble

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b-ibilly · 6 months ago

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Are we seeing this zayne girlies?!

AND THE BUSINESS PROPOSAL SCENE ?!

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therobbycuepitt · 1 month ago

Note

Accidentally calling him your husband

Robby

Browsing through the quiet aisles of a local clothes shop, a woman around her late sixties approaches you holding up two fleece jackets in different colors. "Excuse me, do you think this material is any good? I'm thinking of getting one for my husband," she says. Eyeing the two garments you nod at the dark blue one, "My husband has the same one. Practically lives in it," you say, the older woman laughs but you freeze at the label you've just called Robby when you two definitely haven't gotten to hearing wedding bells just yet. You chat a bit more, still mindlessly looking at the racks when Robby walks in. "Hey, honey. Find anything good?" he asks, holding your other shopping bags because he insists to carry them for you. The older woman, Lucy as she introduced herself, smiled at him. "Oh, is this your husband? No wonder you locked him down, he's a cutie," she bumps elbows with you, still smiling at a now blushing Michael. Your mouth opens and closes like a fish, unsure how to correct the older woman. Your own blush now burning at your cheeks, seeing Michael's amused eyes and sending you a wink. "Yeah, she got really lucky."

Jack

The chill air of the night makes you hug your cardigan tightly around you, waiting for your order from a food truck outside of PTMC. The cart sandwiches were starting to make you dry heave at the very thought of having your fourth one this week. "Could you skip the pickles on that? My husband doesn't like 'em," you politely ask, before the worker could reach for the container. "Husband, huh? I like the sound of that," Jack suddenly appears next to you, handing you a large paper cup filled with your favorite tea. You weren't sure if your hands were getting extra cold from the weather or the sudden realization that Jack just made a very bold statement on your relationship.

Frank

Talking through your patients after hospital care, you walk through the hallway to one of the family rooms to find her son. Opening the door, you see the twelve year-old building what looks like a race car. The mom apologizes for the mess and quickly asks her son to pick up the stray pieces around him on the floor. "My husband loves those things. I'm starting to feel our delivery guy thinks we're weird," you comment—not minding the mess, picking up a few pieces to help. "God forbid your husband has a hobby," Franks voice is right at your ear, his warmth enveloping you from behind. His eyes challenge you with mischief to say something, but you're tongue-tied—brain just registering you've just accidentally promoted him to "spouse" and he heard it.

Shen

John texts you he's five minutes away from the restaurant. Date night was a rare occasion for the two of you, so you try to make it special every time and make reservations. Tonight was a little fancy, a new Italian restaurant opened near your place and evidently, tables get booked fast when people heard it was run by a Michelin-starred chef. "My husband is running as little late, can I order a drink first?" you ask the server after filling your glass with water. "Actually, he's right here," you hear John from behind, he's dressed in a nicely pressed dark green suit, skipping the tie. Your mind not catching up with your mouth, John orders your usual drink of choice and thanks the server before she left your table. "Is this a good time to discuss ring sizes?"

https://www.tumblr.com/therobbycuepitt/783873483830706176/hi-heres-a-cute-thought-what-about-the-pitt

Omg this is so cuteee!!

What if the scenario was flipped- how would they react to their girlfriend calling them her husband ?

thank you so much! 🥺💕💕💕

I absolutely love that idea and will be adding it to my wip list! 🫶🫶🫶

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cosmoszyn · 2 months ago

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open arms | zayne.

synopsis: zayne picks you up at the bus station in a downpour, attempting to appease you after a small argument

content: zayne x reader, little hurt/comfort, fluff, established relationship, banters, reader is a lil stubborn and hard-headed

word count: 2,684

author's note: lol this is very self-indulgent and ... sawrry it took this long, i was swamped with work and several travels. likes, comments, and reblogs are highly appreciated!

cross posted in my ao3

“Care to explain what you are doing here in the rain?”

“...No.”

Zayne nearly clicks his tongue at your stubbornness. Instead, he presses the hazard lights in his vehicle and darts his gaze at you again, “Come inside.”

You stare at him with furrowed brows, your arms wrapped around your shivering body with the tiny bus stop shed measly protecting you from the downpour. Zayne seems collected, looking at you expectantly through his glasses from his sleek black Audi, his one hand on the steering wheel and the other resting on the passenger seat with its windows rolled down. The offer is tempting enough, especially with the fact that Zayne has set the temperature just as toasty as you wish it would be.

But the earlier argument from your shared space resurfaces in your brain. Which warrants you to take a step back and look to the other side of the road.

“Don’t wanna,” you persist, folding your arms across your chest.

Your lover swallows thickly at your words, body resuming to driving position and looking straight at the road, “Alright. Have it your way,” he says, rolling the windows back up.

And for a second, you feel panic rising in your stomach, knowing that you do want to get in the car and be comfortable! Not to mention that you don’t know what time the next bus will arrive as you’ve been stuck in the shed for almost thirty minutes now, so getting inside his car seemed to be the most reasonable option. But Zayne just pisses you off at the moment.

Until you hear him adjusting the shift gear and the slamming of the car door. Your eyes followed the sound and your gaze was met with Zayne’s hunched back, his left hand doing nothing from shielding his body from the rain, walking around the vehicle. Your hands fall to your sides as he reaches you under the shed and before you can even get a word out, he already has you over his shoulders like a rag doll and within a minute, you were gently placed in the passenger seat of his car.

You couldn’t even protest when he leaned over your space, “You can roll your eyes at me later but I need you to behave now,” he explains, reaching out to the seatbelt and fastening it to your side. “Because if you think I’d let your idiocy and pride win tonight, you must have forgotten who you are dating.”

You immediately roll your eyes at his words. In response, Zayne presses his two fingers in your forehead, gently pushing it backward, “I said, behave.”

He didn’t even give you a chance to reply as he is already closing your door and walking to his side. You fold your arms across your chest again, huffing a breath as you look at your window, watching the raindrops patter on the glass.

Within seconds, Zayne settles beside you, his hair and clothes damp from the drizzle. You take a peek of him from your peripheral vision, watching water drip from the tips of hair to his shoulders. As he fastens his seatbelt, you reach out to the glove compartment of his car, and toss him the box of tissues he keeps religiously.

“You’ll get sick,” you mumble under your breath, avoiding his eyes, insisting on staring at the bus stop shed you were under just a couple of seconds ago. And you know for a fact that Zayne’s lips slightly twitch upward in amusement at your attempts to care for him.

“Isn’t someone so caring?” He says, humor lacing his tone as he pulls the tissues, patting himself dry.

You let out a huff, almost sounding like a scoff, “Savor this moment, I guess. It won’t happen again.”

You hear Zayne tossing the tissues at his cup holders by his door, “And someone’s being a little moody too, huh?”

You ignore his comment, continuing to stare ahead at the window with your lips pressed into a thin line. Zayne, on the other hand, could still feel your frustrations and anger directed at him. He shifts the gear of the car and proceeds to accelerate slowly, deft hands carefully pulling away from the curb and driving through the familiar roads.

Minutes of silence engulfed in the vehicle, neither wanting to break the tension bubbling, afraid that it may lead into an argument again. But despite the uncertainty of the situation, Zayne could never seem to find himself staying in this predicament with you. And so, he softly exhales, “Would you like to explain why you were shivering in the rain earlier?” He almost whispers under his breath.

You huff, “I wasn’t in the rain. I was at the bus stop,” you mumble.

Semantics, he wants to say. But he holds off his tongue. “What made you decide to be sarcastic today?” He says playfully, which warrants another roll of your eyes, refusing to even face him.

“Because someone would rather defend an intern for unabashedly flirting with him than side with his girlfriend,” you grumble under your breath, enough for him to hear.

Your lover purses his lips, knowing only himself could be to blame for even trying to make the atmosphere lighter. He dug his own grave at that moment. His fingertips drumming onto the steering wheel as he recalls how the argument came about.

Earlier, Zayne just arrived from a gruelling 12-hour shift at the hospital, ranting about how he had sudden back-to-back emergency surgeries to take care of while he was pressing a kiss to your hair and simultaneously shrugging off his coat and lab gown. You hum in acknowledgment, telling him how you had already prepared him a nice warm bath in his stead. He sighs in appreciation, sluggishly dragging himself to the bathroom to submerge himself into the water.

And as he does so, you decide to clean up after him, picking up his coat and lab gown from the rack to toss into the laundry. However, the moment you sling his clothes in your arms, you manage to whiff a feminine scent deeply ingrained in your boyfriend’s lab coat. You were absolutely certain that it’s not one of your perfumes as you have never worn anything so powerful from the one that you caught and the fragrance seemed to be quite fresh, like it was sprayed prior to his clock-out at work.

Your mind spirals with all the possibilities. You were definite that Zayne would never… entertain another woman when he is in a committed relationship with you. You knew his character inside out and if he wishes to see other people, you knew deep in your soul that he’d rather tell you straight up than beat around the bush.

You feel your surroundings spinning and your gut twisting at the thought that somebody is doing this to your lover. You take a moment to yourself, carefully sitting down at the couch as you continue to cling onto his clothes. As the seconds ticked into minutes, you barely heard the sound of the bathroom door opening and your boyfriend’s footsteps padding through the hallway of your shared apartment.

“Darling? Why are you still not in bed?” He calls out, ruffling his hair with his towel.

“Zayne,” you say, and he visibly flinches at the tone of your voice and your lack of endearment. You refuse to look at him, your eyes staring straight ahead.

“Is something the matter, my love?” He asks, confusion written all over his face.

You swallow thickly, glancing up at him, “I need you to be honest with me, Zayne.”

His head slightly cocks to the side, “Is there a problem?”

“Your lab coat smells like a different woman,” you say straightforwardly, staring at him with a blank look that demands an explanation and almost begging that none of this is happening. Zayne scowls at your words, “What?” He muttered, taking the coat from yours and sniffing it. Once he caught a whiff of the familiar aroma, he visibly sighs, rubbing his temples and turning his heel away, “It must be that new intern in our department. She seems too eager to be working with me,” he explains in a flat tone, which would’ve been enough for you on a normal day. But for some reason, the gears in your head just turn. “You do not need to worry yourself over this. It’s nothing,” he continued as he placed his gown in the washing machine.

“Have you done anything to call her behavior out?” You ask, trailing behind him, the frown in your face deepening. Zayne clenches his jaw, pressing into the setting of the washing machine “Is it necessary?”

Suddenly, you felt the rage of all your female ancestors rising within you. “You’re asking me if it’s necessary?” You scoff, folding your arms across your chest, “You’re a smart guy, Zayne. What do you think?” You challenge.

Zayne exhales, “Darling, can I ask you to not do this right now?”

“I just need an answer,” you demand.

His face tightens and he sighs, “I do not think it’s necessary as she is just an intern–”

“Then what about me, Zayne?” You ask, cutting him off, “Are my feelings just… unimportant to you?”

You were certain that you were being a little too much right now, especially knowing that your boyfriend has fatigue creeping up on him after his shift. But there was something in you that felt the need to claw out answers from him, even if it’s in an unhealthy way possible.

“My love, I am serious. I would want to have this conversation another time, please,” Zayne calmly says, almost pleading, the weariness in his face growing evident. And instead of letting the subject go, you huff and walk away, “Fine. Have it your way.”

And being stubborn is one thing you know how to do. Because instead of wrapping yourself under the comforts of your duvet in your shared bed, you grab your blanket and pillow while Zayne is expectantly waiting for you to embrace him for the night and lull himself to sleep with your warmth beside him.

“Darling where are you going–?”

“I am not sleeping with you tonight. I am still upset that you did nothing to call her behavior out.”

You thought Zayne would actually trail behind you and ask you to stop being difficult, using his strength to force you back to bed. But he lets you grumble on the couch, settling yourself underneath the thin blanket that does nothing to warm you up. You toss and turn on the couch, desperate to catch some sleep and a comfortable position but to no avail.

Until you hear careful footsteps padding across the living which elicits a thought from you that maybe he will finally ask you to come back to bed.

You wait for his words as your eyes are screwed shut, pretending to be asleep. Instead, you just hear the front door of your apartment opening and closing.

And in your frustration and anger, instead of following him and asking him to come back home, knowing he just went to the hospital to continue working, you returned the favor. You decided to go to the Hunters Association and finish the paperwork you have been putting off since last week.

Which led you to your predicament of being stuck on the bus stop while the rain poured heavily from the skies.

The car was filled with another minute of silence and he’s finding the right words to say to his lover. In the first place, he was never good with verbalizing his feelings, so being in this dilemma makes him feel a little queasy, especially when this seemed to be the biggest problem you two have encountered as a couple so far.

As he continues to file through his brain on what to say, he decides on a simple thing, “I’m sorry.”

You ignore his words.

“You have every right to be mad at me tonight but all I ask of you is to sleep beside me later,” he said, carefully driving through the slippery streets.

“Bold of you to demand that when you just up and left without a word,” you grumble.

“I had to take care of things,” he replies calmly. And in your head, you were already screaming several sarcastic remarks and rolling your eyes until you were sure you could see your skull. But before you could settle in on a perfect comeback, he speaks up again, “It seems I wasn’t appreciating my girlfriend’s feelings enough that I had to let her go through that emotional turmoil.”

You bite your inner cheek, listening to his words. “And I hope she listens to me tonight and comes home because I have already dealt with a rather… nuisance of a trainee at the hospital. Only to find out from my lover’s colleague that she worked overtime and is shivering in the rain,” he says.

Finally, you turn your head to meet his gaze, which has been glued the entire time on the road. “You did?” You ask, almost in a whisper.

He merely nods, “I could never live with the fact that you feel insecure in this relationship. It is my job to have you feel assured and safe. And if it meant driving back to the hospital to speak with the intern in the midst of her night shift, I would gladly do so.”

Your bottom lip juts out instinctively as you feel your heart swell in his words, “Zayne…”

“Besides, I could also never stand living with someone so grumpy and hard-headed to the point where she’d let me sleep alone in the bed.”

“Hey!”

Zayne’s lips slightly twitch upward as he knows you only focused on the first words. The stoplight glows yellow then transitions into a bright red, opting your lover to pause his driving and turn to you, “Is the little grouchy girl finished with her tantrums?”

“I’m not grouchy! My feelings were valid, Zayne,” you huff.

Zayne suppresses his smile as he presses a hand to your cheek, “I know, my love. Your feelings were and are valid. I apologize if it seemed like I wasn’t prioritizing you.”

You release a small sigh, your lips slightly quivering upward at the feelings of his warm hands, “Okay. I’m sorry too, Zayne. I was being a little harsh and forceful.”

“Apology slightly accepted,” he replies, removing his hand from yours, placing it back on the steering wheel.

Your eyes fly open at his words, cocking your head sideways in confusion, “Slightly?”

“Well you do have to compensate me for spending the night chasing you instead of resting, dear,” he says, pushing his glasses upward. You narrow your eyes at him in suspicion as he slowly accelerates the vehicle again, “What kind of compensation?”

Instead of replying to you, his lips break out a wide smile and his right hand taps on his cheek twice while his eyes remain on the road, and his left hand maneuvering the steering wheel effortlessly (which makes you feel things but you ignore it).

You raise a brow at him “Just a kiss on the cheek?”

Zayne remained silent. Thinking it was nothing, you shrugged and leaned forward, ready to press a kiss to his cheek. But before you can reach the skin of his cheek, he suddenly turns his head, urging you to plant your lips with his momentarily, causing your eyes to widen. He pulls away from the peck, catching a glimpse of your surprised expression with a smug smirk threatening to pull from the corners of his mouth.

“Zayne, that was dangerous!” You exclaim, your fingertips ghosting over your lips while heat creeps up your cheeks. Instead of replying, your lover merely hums, continuing his drive like nothing happened, eyes glued to the road as he feels you beside him still recover from the fleeting kiss.

“At least I fully accepted your apology, did I not?”

“Even if it cost us our lives?”

“Oh please my love, don’t be dramatic.”

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mephisto-reporting · 4 months ago

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Hearbreak Anniversary with Zayne

Summary: It was your anniversary with Zayne. One year of togetherness. But what if he does not show up when you expect him to? What if he was spending it with MC? Pairing: Non MC! Reader x Zayne Note: MC in this fic goes by the name Lina (my name... so if you are angry, you can be angry at me :3). This oneshot was based on this request. I will write this for the other LADS men too. Also I don't think any of these men would ever be the type to actually willlingly forget it. Especially Zayne. So I had to adapt the request a bit. Content Warning: injuries, panic, insecurities, self worth issues, Zayne POV

Rafayel version | Zayne version | Sylus version | Caleb Version

Zayne’s apartment smelled like him—clean, crisp, and faintly of the eucalyptus-scented candles he kept on the shelves. You sat on the edge of his couch, smoothing the fabric of your dress down your thighs, nerves making your fingers tremble slightly. The dim light of the chandelier cast a soft glow over the room, illuminating the carefully planned surprise you had for him —flowers, his favorite treats, elegant scarves, and jackets you had spent weeks picking out. The final touch was the flexible weekend getaway tickets, somewhere warm and far from the sterility of hospital walls. A place where he could finally rest.

You had gone all out for tonight. The garden-themed restaurant was supposed to be the perfect setting—a quiet, intimate place where vines curled around twinkling fairy lights, and the soft scent of fresh blooms would fill the air. And you had dressed accordingly with something elegant, something that made you feel beautiful for him. The deep navy-blue dress you wore clung to your form just right, the intricate lace details at the sleeves soft against your skin. You had taken your time getting ready, styling your hair to perfection, slipping on a pair of delicate earrings he once admired absentmindedly. A spritz of white jasmine perfume, the one he once said reminded him of spring mornings. You wanted to look like someone worthy of being by his side. You wanted to be beautiful for him, for the man who had somehow, impossibly, fallen for you.

Because, truth be told, there were times you weren’t sure you were.

you still didn’t understand how this happened—how Zayne, the prodigy, the man who could save lives with his hands and mind, had chosen you. He was brilliant, disciplined, and deeply compassionate. And you? You were just… you. Ordinary in comparison. He never made you feel small, never belittled you, but standing beside him you felt you were just lucky to be there. His world was one of brilliance, filled with extraordinary people—Lina, the fearless Deepspace Hunter; his late friend Caleb, a DAA pilot whose loss still lingered in hushed conversations; his esteemed mentors and fellow doctors who spoke in a language you could only ever grasp at the edges. Compared to them, compared to him, you felt so small.

But tonight, none of that mattered. Tonight, was supposed to be about the two of you.

You had fallen for him in the quietest of ways—through the gentle cadence of his voice, through the moments he noticed things others didn’t. How he’d pull a chair out for you before you could do it yourself, how he’d check the temperature of your tea so you wouldn’t burn your tongue, how he’d listen, really listen, to your ramblings even after a 48-hour shift. He had nestled himself into your heart without you even realizing it.

And tonight, he had insisted he wanted to be with you, even with the chaos of the hospital weighing on his shoulders.

The call came two hours before your reservation. You already knew what he was going to say the moment you saw his name flash on your screen.

“Hey, sweetheart…” Zayne’s voice was warm, familiar, but there was an edge of exhaustion to it. “I’m so sorry. I can’t make it tonight.”

Your heart sank, but you swallowed it down, forcing your voice to remain even. “It’s okay, Zayne. I know you’re busy.”

“It's been a long shift, and the surgeries…”

You nodded even though he couldn’t see you. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll cancel the reservation. Take some breaks and rest, okay? You sound tired…”

“I am fine, sweetheart. I’ll make it up to you,” he promised. “I swear.”

"It’s fine, Zayne." you whispered, even if it wasn’t. “We’ll just celebrate it another day. No big deal.” Even though it felt like one at the moment.

Still, you weren’t upset. Not really. You understood. You always understood.

You hung up and exhaled slowly, pressing your palms against your lap. It wasn’t his fault. He was working back-to-back shifts, saving lives, doing what he was meant to do. And yet, you couldn’t quite keep the disappointment from settling in your chest.

You exhaled slowly, stripping away the dress you had so eagerly put on just hours ago. You slip into into one of Zayne’s oversized sweaters instead, the one that still smelled like him, the sleeves swallowing your hands. You wear leggings underneath and slip on your shoes. You took your time packing the gifts back into the car, moving slowly, as if dragging out the moment would make it hurt less. Maybe when he was finally done, you could pick him up from the hospital. At least you’d get to see him and surprise him. This was what occupied your time for the next three to four hours.

Once everything was back in the car, you plopped yourself on his plush but ergonomic couch. You scrolled through your phone while waiting, mindlessly tapping through social media, until one post stopped you cold.

Lina’s story.

A picture of her sitting across from Zayne in a small restaurant outside Akso hospital, the caption lighthearted:

When you have to drag out your doctor because he won’t follow his own advice about resting. (-_-)

Zayne looked amused in the photo, tired but still composed, his lips slightly curved in a small, rare smile. He looked… content. His gaze focused on her as if she had just said something ridiculous.

Your fingers trembled as you stared at the screen.

It was stupid. It was so stupid to feel like this. Lina was his childhood best friend. She had never given you a reason to be insecure, and yet, the sting of it hit you like a slow, creeping ache. He had time to go out for a meal with her. He had time to smile like that, even after canceling on you. You knew you were being irrational, that he had only stepped out for a quick bite in his busy shift, yet you felt betrayed.

Tears pricked at your eyes before you could stop them. You wiped them away quickly, but they kept falling, silent at first, then turning into quiet, shuddering sobs. You felt pathetic. Childish. He wasn’t doing anything wrong. You knew he wasn’t. But it hurt anyway. Because you would have taken anything—just a few moments, even just a simple meal at that tiny restaurant, if it meant spending time with him today.

It hurt in a way that made your chest feel tight, made the lump in your throat impossible to swallow. The sting of it crept under your skin like a wound you hadn’t realized was open, raw and aching. The disappointment bled into something uglier, something heavier. Why, after everything, did it feel like you were always on the sidelines of his life? No, Zayne never made you feel that way. It was your own spiraling thoughts.

A loud sob choked its way out, your hands gripping the fabric of his sweater as if that would somehow ground you. You wanted to hate yourself for crying over something so petty. He was saving lives. He was exhausted. He didn’t mean to hurt you.

But it hurt.

You needed to go home. You needed to collect yourself before the ugly thoughts swallowed you whole. You stood up, tears streaming down your face, as the weight of it all seemed too much to bear. You didn’t want to sit here anymore. You didn’t want to wait. You needed to go home, to clear your head, to get away from the overwhelming sense of inadequacy.

You sniffled, grabbing your keys and heading out. The highway would be the fastest route home—less traffic, a straight shot. You rerouted, pressing your foot on the accelerator, trying to breathe through the tightness in your chest. You wiped at your tears quickly, trying to focus on the road.

The road stretched out before you, a wide expanse of concrete and asphalt that felt like it would swallow you whole. The tears wouldn’t stop, and you wiped them away, trying to steady your hands on the wheel, trying to focus on the road ahead. But it didn’t matter. It didn’t matter that you understood, that you were rational about his work. The reality of it, the empty seat next to you, the disappointment of seeing Zayne happy in a photo with someone else, it all felt too much.

And then—

Headlights. Too close. Too fast.

A car jumped the signal, trying to merge into the highway.

You slammed the breaks, the scream of tires against pavement rang in your ears.

The impact was instant. A violent, sickening jolt that sent your body forward, the seatbelt snapping against your chest, the airbag exploding in front of you. The windshield cracked, splintering into a spiderweb of broken glass. Your vision blurred, the world spinning.

Pain.

Your chest burned, lungs straining to catch a breath. Your limbs felt heavy. You reached for the seatbelt, your fingers fumbling, but it was jammed.

Fuck.

Your head lulled forward, resting against the deflated airbag. Your head was heavy, your thoughts slipping away like sand through your fingers. The distant wail of sirens reached your ears, but they felt so far away.

Your vision swam, the edges darkening.

I hope the other person is alright.

The thought barely had time to settle before everything faded into black.

ZAYNE'S POV

The fluorescent lights of the hospital buzzed faintly, casting an artificial glow over the chaos of the emergency room. The air was thick with the scent of antiseptic and the undercurrent of blood—familiar, almost routine, yet tonight it gnawed at Zayne's nerves in a way he couldn't quite shake. He hadn’t left since he stepped through those doors, yet somehow, the guilt weighing on him had nothing to do with the lives he saved today. It was you.

He was tired. God, was he tired. His body screamed for rest, his temples throbbed from the strain of back-to-back shifts, but the hospital was understaffed, and there was no room for exhaustion when lives were at stake. As a cardiologist, his expertise lay in the intricate mechanics of the human heart, but duty demanded flexibility—especially in the ER. Cardiologists weren’t meant to be dealing with blunt force trauma and lacerations, but tonight, none of that mattered. They needed doctors. He was a doctor. So, he worked.

Even through the fatigue, his mind kept drifting back to you. He could still hear your voice from the call earlier, soft and understanding despite the disappointment laced beneath it. You didn’t deserve this. You had every right to be upset, to be frustrated that he had broken his promise, yet you didn’t even complain. That hurt more than if you had yelled at him

God, he loved you. And he hated himself for testing that patience again and again.

His hand tightened around the pen he was holding. He had plans—plans to make it up to you. The necklace in his office drawer, nestled in a velvet box, had been meant for tonight. Something small, perhaps, compared to everything you did, but a token of his devotion nonetheless. He could still salvage this. Maybe he could call you later, ask if you were still awake—

His device beeped, pulling him back to the present.

MVA on the highway. ETA: 5 minutes.

Multi-vehicle accident. Paramedics on site, victims en route.

Zayne exhaled sharply, shifting into work mode. He stepped into the ER just as the first stretcher was wheeled in. The radio chatter from their comms filled the space.

"Female, mid-to-late twenties, restrained driver, T-bone collision from a vehicle that ran a red light. Airbag deployment, but impact trauma to the chest from seatbelt. BP slightly low, likely from pain response. Tachycardic at 112. GCS is 14. Possible wrist fracture, mild concussion. No signs of internal bleeding from the ultrasound, but needs further imaging to rule out any complications."

He nodded briskly, slipping into the detached, clinical efficiency that had been drilled into him for years. It was only as he stepped forward, pulling the curtain aside, that his breath caught in his throat.

His world stopped.

There, on the hospital bed, was you.

Lying on the hospital bed, your hair disheveled, your skin pale against the stark white sheets. His breath lodged in his throat, the world narrowing to a pinpoint focus on the rise and fall of your chest. He couldn't move. Couldn't think. There was dried blood at your temple, your lower lip swollen where you must have bitten down upon impact. The sight of the IV line in your arm, the faint bruises forming along your collarbone—he couldn’t breathe.

No. No. No. No. No.

"Dr. Zayne…" Yvonne’s voice cut in, sharp and urgent. A warning. He was frozen. This wasn't just a patient. This was you.

He blinked, his hands suddenly trembling as he reached for his gloves. Breathe. He had to focus. Had to push past the sheer, gut-wrenching fear threatening to paralyze him.

This is her. She was waiting for me. She—

"Dr. Zayne!!" Yvonne pressed, handing him the updated chart. "She needs you."

That snapped him out of it.

The moment his hands touched you, they were steady again. His voice was even as he examined you, the motions automatic, controlled. He checked your pupils, gently palpated your ribs to assess for fractures. He was a doctor. He was your doctor right now. He had to move. Focusing, he reached for his stethoscope, pressing it against your chest to listen for abnormalities. The rhythm of your heart was steady, but your breathing was just slightly labored—likely from the seatbelt trauma.

"You’re going to be fine." he murmured, more to himself than anyone else.

You were stable.

"Her left shoulder—check for AC joint separation," he murmured, voice steadier than he felt. "Get a CT to rule out any internal injuries. And…" He swallowed. “Get me images from the crash site.” He needed to see how bad the collison was. He had to.

The hours blurred. He monitored your scans, adjusted your IV, checked your vitals more times than necessary. Each time his eyes drifted to you; his chest ached. He had seen the accident reports—your car, your windshield shattered, the crumpled hood. And the contents scattered across the scene…

You had planned everything.

For him.

And he wasn’t there.

Zayne clenched his jaw. Flowers were scattered, crushed against the upholstery. The pastries you must have picked out for him were ruined; their boxes torn open from the force of the crash. And gifts. There were so many gifts. He hadn’t even known you had planned all this.

He felt like he was going to be sick.

You had so much waiting for him. And where had he been? At a hole-in-the-wall restaurant, eating with Lina because she forced him to take a break. He had been smiling in that photo while you were—

God.

He ran a hand down his face, exhaling shakily as he sat by your bedside. He should have been with you. If he had just—

The monitor beeped steadily, a quiet reminder that you were alive.

Now, he sat beside you, watching the slow rise and fall of your chest, fingers curled into his palms to keep them from shaking.

"Wake up, sweetheart." he murmured, voice barely above a whisper. "Please, just wake up."

And for once, Zayne—brilliant, composed, always in control—felt utterly powerless.

The beep of the heart monitor was steady, rhythmic, but Zayne found himself gripping the edge of his chair every time you stirred, waiting for that moment when your eyes would finally open. His body was stiff from staying in the same position for hours, but he didn’t dare move. He didn’t want to miss it.

Then, a small shift in your breathing. A twitch of your fingers.

Zayne leaned forward just as your lashes fluttered, your eyes cracking open, only to squeeze shut again at the harsh fluorescent lights. You groaned softly, shifting against the sheets. Instinctively, you tried to sit up.

"Hey—stay put," Zayne said immediately, pressing a hand against your shoulder to keep you down. His touch was gentle but firm, his fingers warm even against the hospital gown. "Don’t move too much yet."

Your body resisted for a moment, muscles tensing as if you wanted to argue, but the disorientation dulled your fight. Your gaze finally settled on him, hazy with the remnants of sleep and confusion.

Then you frowned.

“…You look tired,” you murmured, your voice soft, still groggy. “How long have you been here?”

Zayne’s heart clenched so tightly it hurt. Even now, even when you were the one lying in a hospital bed, barely recovered from an accident, your first thoughts were about him.

His throat felt tight, but he exhaled sharply, forcing himself to speak. “You should look at yourself first, sweetheart.”

Your gaze flickered down, taking in the IV in your arm, the bruises along your wrist, the faint soreness that no doubt ached across your body. Zayne exhaled sharply and reached out, his fingertips tracing the side of your face before cupping your cheek fully. His thumb brushed lightly against your skin, as if grounding himself with the warmth of you. His eyes were moist, though no tears fell.

“I’m sorry,” he said, voice low, raw in a way that stripped away every layer of his usual composure.

You parted your lips, breath hitching as if you were about to reassure him—to do what you always did, to let him off the hook, to tell him it wasn’t his fault.

But he didn’t let you.

“No,” he cut in firmly, shaking his head. “Not this time. This is the one time you shouldn’t be so understanding.” His jaw clenched, something bitter twisting in his expression. “I should have been there. We should have been celebrating our relationship. End of discussion.”

Silence settled between you.

After a beat, he exhaled, running a hand through his hair before looking at you again. “Why didn’t you demand my time?” His voice was quieter now, tinged with regret. “You had every right to.”

You hesitated, glancing away. “…I didn’t want to bother you.” Your fingers twisted into the hospital blanket, grip tightening slightly. “You’re important, Zayne. You save lives. I didn’t want to pull you away from that.”

Something in him snapped.

He let out a sharp breath, then reached for your hand, gently prying your fingers from the blanket. His grip was warm, grounding.

“Shh… And you think you’re not?” he murmured, shaking his head. “Don’t ever say that again.” His gaze bore into yours, unwavering. “You are important to me.”

"You’re important to me," he repeated, voice steady but almost desperate. "Just like my work makes demands of me, you are more than entitled to make demands of me, too."

Your eyes searched his, uncertainty flickering beneath the lingering haze of exhaustion. But Zayne’s gaze didn’t waver.

"I know I should have been there," he said again, quieter this time. He hesitated for only a fraction of a second before brushing a thumb over the edge of your jaw, tilting your face slightly. “When I saw you on this bed when I entered the ER… pale, unconscious… I haven’t felt fear like that before," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "Not in all my years of doing this. Not like that."

You didn’t say anything, but your hand came up slowly, resting over his.

He closed his eyes briefly, exhaling.

This—this was what he almost lost.

His jaw clenched, then loosened as he exhaled. “I don’t want to ever feel it again.”

Another pause.

Zayne inhaled deeply, steadying himself. His hand still cupped your cheek, his thumb tracing absentminded circles against your skin, as if reassuring himself that you were still here. That you were warm. That he hadn’t lost you.

“I know I say I’m sorry a lot… and it probably has lost meaning to you.” he murmured; his voice rough with emotion. His lips pressed into a thin line, as if struggling to put his feelings into something more tangible. “I should have been there. And I will be. Every step of the way until you’re fully recovered and after....”

His eyes flickered downward, scanning you like the doctor he was, but this was different. This wasn’t just clinical analysis—this was personal. "You got lucky," he admitted, exhaling through his nose. "Blunt force trauma to the ribs, a mild concussion, and a broken wrist. Some lacerations on your arm and leg, but nothing deep enough to require surgical intervention. The worst was the head trauma, but the scans came back clear. No bleeding, no swelling. That’s the only reason I’m not having a complete breakdown right now…" His fingers ghosted over your arm, careful not to apply pressure. "Nothing life-threatening or with lasting consequences. But still… you shouldn’t have had to go through that alone." His jaw tensed. "Not when you have me."

You gave him a small, tired smile at that, and something inside him twisted.

He pulled back slightly, just enough to reach into his pocket, his fingers closing around the small velvet box. He’d gone to his office to clock off for the day to be beside you when he picked it up from his drawer. The very box he wanted to give you today. The one that was supposed to be given in a far more joyful setting. This was supposed to be today. A night spent celebrating the two of you—not this. Not hospital beds and IV drips and the hollow fear that had nearly swallowed him whole.

But none of that mattered now.

What mattered was that you were here. And this… this was still yours.

His throat felt thick as he flipped it open, revealing the necklace inside—a delicate silver chain holding a white jasmine pendant, smooth and polished, its petals carved with intricate detail. And behind it, barely visible, were his initials.

His fingers trembled just slightly as he took it out.

"I was supposed to give this to you today," he admitted, voice lower now, almost guilty. "Before all of this. Before I let my own priorities get in the way of what really mattered." He glanced up at you, and for the first time in a long time, he looked vulnerable. "I don’t want you to ever think that you come second. Because you don’t. You never have."

Gently, he reached around your neck, his touch featherlight as he fastened the clasp. The cool metal of the pendant settled just above your collarbone, resting against your skin. His fingertips lingered there, just briefly.

Then he let out a slow breath, tilting your chin up just slightly with his knuckles. His mind still reeled with everything that had happened, with everything he should have done differently.

"I love you," he said, and this time there was no hesitation, no wry smirk to mask his emotions, no half-hearted deflection. Just honesty, raw and unguarded. "Even when I do a crappy job at showing it." He didn’t need you to say it back—he just needed you to know.

For a moment, silence stretched between you. Then, his lips quirked, just slightly, into something softer. "And since I’m apparently on mandatory bedside duty, I hope you’re ready to be completely spoiled. I’m talking fresh coffee, extra pillows, a ridiculous number of medical advices—"

A small, breathy laugh escaped you, and Zayne felt something in his chest loosen at the sound. Then, slowly, you lifted a hand, brushing your fingertips over the pendant before reaching up to cup his cheek.

Zayne leaned into your touch instinctively, exhaling softly. He smiled, finally, pressing his forehead lightly against yours. "Yeah," he murmured. "We’ll be just fine. I've got you sweetheart... I'll always be here for you."

AN: reblogs, feedback and opinions are appreciated!

Rafayel version | Zayne version | Sylus version | Caleb Version

Taglist: @cordidy, @natimiles @leighsartworks216 @notisekais @raining4food @fallthelong @pomegranatepip @juliuscaesarsstabbedback @krystallevine @lemurianmaster @nenggie @loverindeepspace @sinsodom

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aeyumicore · 11 months ago

Text

misty invasion - hidden motive

━ .ᐟ✧ PAIRING: zayne x female reader (afab)

━ ✧.˖ GENRE: smut, porn with some/little plot, porn with feelings

━ .ᐟ✧ WORD COUNT: 3.6k

━ ✧.˖ WARNINGS: mdni, explicit sexual content, slight spoilers to ‘hidden motive’ (zayne’s misty invasion card), knee humping, titty sucking, titty sucking through clothes, titty nibbling (zayne is a boobie fiend), slight predator and prey, switch!zayne (he’s dom but kinda needy and vulnerable), use of Y/N, sub!reader, unprotected sex, cumming in panties, reader on top

━ .ᐟ✧ LINKS: video | ao3 | sylus's version | raf's version | xav's version

━ ✧.˖ A/N: haiiii guyssss i decided to upload the boys’ misty invasion fics one at a time! first up is baby zayne <3 his card inspired me so much, it was so intimate and passionate.

next up will probably be sylus, hopefully will post in maybe 3ish days! I haven’t watched raf’s or xav’s but i have ideas for them. I’m excited to write, i’m praying i don’t burn out…hope you guys enjoy :) love ya’ll! also i am more active on twitter if you guys would like to follow me there, my link is in my masterpost!

THIS IS MY ONLY ACCOUNT. I WILL NEVER POST MY FICS ON OTHER TUMBLR BLOGS. I WILL ONLY POST ON THIS ACCOUNT AND ON AO3.

✦ . ˖ ✧ .ᐟ ˖ nsfw | minors dni | 18+ only | minors dni | nsfw ✦ . ˖ ✧ .ᐟ ˖

Spontaneity was not something Zayne preferred to indulge in.

He had enough of it in his hectic surgery schedule, so in his personal life he tried to keep things as predictable as possible.

Yet he was graced with an absolute menace of a girlfriend, who, from the second she walked into his life, created chaos in her wake. Always running off on faraway Hunter missions, telling him only after she’d already left. Coming back injured, with a frustratingly adorable and sheepish smile, trying, and failing, to convince him she was fine.

God, you drove him utterly insane.

Which is why now, the normally composed, self-assured, and controlled, chief cardiac surgeon was unraveling at the seams beneath your seemingly innocent touch.

“Why does it smell sweeter than usual?” Zayne’s voice is raspy and breathless from the torrid and heated kiss the two of you had just been locked in. The razor blade and shaving cream had long since been discarded and forgotten.

Before you can respond, he’s pulling your wrist towards his reddened face, making you fall on top of him from your seat on his lap. You’re left straddling his one knee as you fall forward. Your wrist grips the leather recliner cushion by his head to catch you as he cups your lower back, just above your rear, pressing your body deeper into his.

He nuzzles his face into your wrist that's planted beside his head, absolutely enraptured by the scent of your lotion. The scent of you.

Taking another deef lung full of your pheromones mixed with your fruity lotion, his intense hazel eyes desperately seek yours, like he’s conveying his desires with the golden green orbs. You open your mouth to question his unusual behavior, but Zayne’s one step ahead of you. His knee raises to push your backside towards him, making you lose your grip completely and collapse completely atop him.

The recliner chair swings wildly at your combined movements, and you find yourself struggling to steady yourself. In your brief moment of helplessness, Zayne hoists you towards him, burying his face into your chest. His lips find your collarbone instantly, his knee nestled between your thighs to help balance you.

You gasp at his tongue lapping languidly at your fragrant skin, your fingers grasping his shoulders as he sucks at your sensitive collar, no doubt leaving a bruise. His lips dance dangerously close to where your silk camisole hangs off the swell of your breasts.

“Are you taking a break from work?” you ask between your raspy pants. Zayne continues to indulge in your skin, moving lower until his face meets your hardened nipples, separated only by a thin layer of silk. His tongue softly brushes against the soft material of your top, stroking at the swollen peaks through the smooth fabric. His knee grinds into your thighs, craving the warmth and dampness of his most favorite place.

He has to physically pry himself away from your chest, a dusting of deep peach painting his flustered face.

“Do I look like I can work right now?” His question is simple, but the aggressive demand that hides underneath them is urgent, nearly feral. You don’t get a chance to get another word out before he’s sinking back into the warmth of your chest.

This time, his lips close over your entire nipple through the soft silk of your sleeping cami, making you cry out in surprise. Your fingers grip his hair as he absolutely devours you through your top, the silk dampening with his saliva. His teeth come down to graze your sensitive peaks and you have to push him back before you lose yourself to the pleasure.

“...You don’t have to be so intense,” you urge him, despite the clear and inarguable fact that you want more. Clear from the way the panties you’d slept in start to dampen against his bare knee that peeks out from his robe.

Zayne looks unamused, almost sulky, as he mutters, “No working, and not allowed to do anything else…” He looks up at you, mischief briefly flashing across his eyes

He sits up, wrapping his strong arm around your shoulder and bringing you to him in an intimate embrace. You flail forward at his sudden movements, the rocking of the recliner chair making it impossible to find any balance. He takes the opportunity to drive his knee deeper into your core, making you moan lewdly. His chin rests on your bare shoulder, words hot and breathy against your pulsing neck, “Well then…my love, what exactly do you allow me to do?”

His actions make it difficult for you to speak, brain focussing solely on the pleasure he’s both giving you and keeping from you. At your wordless moans of excitement, Zayne continues.

“Will you allow me to do this?” he rocks his knee deeper into you, effectively humping you against his leg. Your nails dig into his muscled back at the unexpected ecstasy, his knee rubbing against your clit in the most sinfully perfect ways.

Zayne hisses at the feeling of the sting of your nails, only making him more desperate to take you right there on his living room chair, “I’ll take that as a yes.”

With his lips at your neck, he slowly and torturously pulls the flimsy straps of your loose top down, until your breasts are pressing against his exposed chest underneath his luxurious bathrobe.

His hands descend to hold your waist firmly, gently pulling you away from his chest so his hungry mouth can find your soft breasts again.

You throw your head backwards when his warm and wet mouth captures your bare skin into its embrace. Zayne is absolutely relentless, bouncing you filthily on his thigh as he absolutely devours your breasts. His teeth and tongue work in tandem to suckle pretty little bruises into the swell of your chest, and around your pert nipples.

Zayne looks up at you from underneath his eyelashes, heated irises drinking in your quivering form atop him. His erection pushes against the feeble restraints of his tied robe, creating a tent in his lap that twitches with anticipation. It brushes against your stomach as he grinds his knee into you, giving him just enough friction to need to bite into your breast to hold back his desperate moans.

You cling to him, trusting him to take all control of your body and of your pleasure. Your nails continue to draw angry red welts into his back, as you feel the familiar coiling of ecstasy in your gut.

You tap desperately on his shoulders, not wanting to make a mess in your panties that are already sticking to your wet folds.

“Z-Zayne, wait I —”

He brings his thumb to your lips, pressing softly against your parted lips, all the while his own lips never leave your aching tits. Against them, he mumbles, “Don’t deny me. Please.”

You’re briefly snapped out of the mind numbing pleasure of your quickly approaching orgasm at the sound of his plea, bordering on a feral demand. It’s so rare to hear him so unraveled and desperate, to hear him demanding things from you. A man who never asked anything of anyone, especially not of you, the one person he treasured more than life itself. It’s so rare and raw that you can’t help but want to give him everything he wants.

You bury your face into the top of his head, his addicting scent invading your senses, and you kiss him gently, “Never, I would never deny you.”

Zayne inhales sharply, groaning at your sweet words, ”Good girl.” He pulls you down fully on top of him again, the leather chair reclining until it’s nearly flat. Your ass is arched into the air, your face pressed into his chest, as his knee pushes into you with renewed vigor.

His lips find themselves sucking urgently at your nipples again, his knee moving faster, wanting to see his beautiful girl come undone all over his thighs. His tongue lathers tortuous circles around your hardened and swollen peaks, soothing the areas in which his teeth bite down softly.

“Let me see you, love. Please. I haven’t gotten to feel you since you ran off into danger without telling me, again.”

Your heart clenched as you realized that was where all this desperation and vulnerability was coming from. You want to apologize, but his unforgiving knee against your weeping cunt made it nearly impossible to get the syllables out.

“I-I’m – nnghh – m’sorry.”

His hand roughly grabs your chin, turning you to level with his smoldering hazel eyes. His voice is gruff and inquisitive, eyebrows raised in doubt, “Are you, sweetheart?”

You whine at his words, his actions only becoming more relentless, as if forcing the responses he wants out of you, “I am!”

The corner of his lips curl up, so faint you can barely see it. An arrogance Zayne so rarely lets show.

“Then show me. Show me how sorry you are.” With each demand, his leg drives harshly into your clit. You nod vigorously, eager to please him.

His darkened green eyes cling to yours, his voice deceptively calm and soothing, “Say it, love.”

You want to respond but the way he’s punctuating his every word with a hard intentional thrust of his knee into your aching cunt makes it impossible to do anything but moan lewdly into his ear, your head hanging down with your hair falling over your eyes.

He pinches your abused nipple, guiding your eyes back to his demanding hazel ones, the golden flecks glowing brightly as they savor the sight of you.

“I-I’m – unghh – s-sorry. Should’ve told you. I’ll be good, just-just let me cum f’you!” You bury your face into his neck, embarrassed by the words coming out of your mouth but unable to stop them all the same.

“Let me see you,” he grunts. When you lift your head, bleary eyes fixing on his, he smiles. It's faint but effervescently warm.

“That’s my girl. Now tell me, hm? How is my beautiful girl going to make it up to me?”

Your eyes fill with tears, overwhelmed by the pleasure his knee brings you, and the raw feelings that are masked behind his lewd words. His facade of filthy demands that hide the suffocating emotions, the same emotions he’d felt when he saw your name on the list of hunters dispatched to the wanderer quarantine zone. Emotions that he was now taking out on your ever-so responsive body.

“Anything you want Zayne, anything,” you gasp, your eyes locked into his as he continues to hump his knee into you,

His breath catches audibly at your words, pulling your chin towards him to capture your lips in a raw and passionate kiss, one that felt like it might stop time and space as you knew it.

At his intensely possessive lips, his throaty demands, his insistent knee wedged into your cunt, it isn’t long before you come undone all over his knee. You cum with a strangled cry, your fingers digging crescents into his muscled shoulders. Your eyes squeeze shut at the feeling of the filthy dampness against the fabric of your panties. Zayne groans at the angelic sight of your face contorted into pure pleasure, his erection painfully hard against his silken robe, pressed into your quivering belly. The heavenly vision of you cumming was almost enough to have him erupting right against your stomach.

“That’s it my love, just like that,” Zayne coos as you cum over his knee, still rocking gently into you as he helps you ride out the waves of your ecstasy. His slender fingers rub soothing circles into the small of your back, cooling your burning skin.

“So good, so good for me,” he murmurs into your hair, your head resting on his shoulders as the post-orgasm tremors come and go. His lips press into your scalp, the moment feeling absolutely and idyllically perfect.

You’re so blissed out you almost don’t feel him shifting beneath you, slender fingers pulling your soaked panties to the side. It isn’t until you feel the all-too familiar feeling of his fat leaking cockhead nestled between your folds, right at the entrance to your most sensitive parts, that your bleary eyes open.

You watch him, cock in his fist, swiping up and down your drenched lips, head hung down in pleasure as he watches the way your pussy quite literally invites him in. A thin layer of sweat glistens on his furrowed forehead, his restraint hanging on by a thread as he tries to calm himself before he burrows into you like an absolute animal.

You grab him by his chin, guiding him to look up at you. You take his throbbing manhood into your own fingers, in place of his. He stares at you heatedly, your languid actions driving him to the edge of insanity. Your body quivers as his cockhead catches on your clit, your body still reeling from the orgasm you’d just experienced on his knee.

Zayne’s hand encompasses yours, your joined palms holding his aching cock at the base. He repeats his plea from earlier, his voice raspy and breathless, “Show me.”

His desperation makes you bite your lip in anticipation, and you nod before sinking down onto his thick member. Your body grapples with the stretch as you slide further and further down, as Zayne writhes below you, panting rapidly and fingers digging into your waist.

“You’re so damn perfect,” he rasps, fingers bruising your hips with the intensity in which they grab you, “Give me more, please love.”

You grin at his rare pleas, teasing him by stopping halfway, not letting him enter you fully. His desperate moans and grunts make you giggle, and you relish in the way his large hands hold you so possessively, in the way only you are able to make him lose control.

Zayne chuckles darkly at your teasing antics, “You don’t sound very apologetic, sweetheart.” He raises his eyebrow at you, in a playful warning. You open your mouth to speak, but it’s cut off with a scream when he slams you down on his thick length, his strong grip pulling you down until your ass meets his thighs.

The impact of your thighs against Zayne’s lap is sinful. Zayne groans at the way he can feel the globes of your ass shake against him, your pussy clenching to accommodate the sudden stretch. And Zayne doesn’t even let you ride him, instead using the raw strength of his arms and thighs to bob you up and down his length, in a rhythm that had you seeing white.

“Nnghh – P-Please Zayne!” you plead, but for what you’re not even sure. You certainly don’t want him to stop or slow down. Your arms wrap around his shoulders, holding on while he bounces you like you weigh absolutely nothing.

Zayne grunts in response, too lost in the feeling of how your walls cling to him, how your body responds to his touch and thrusts like he owns you.

“Always — hah — throwing yourself — fuck! — into danger. Without telling me,” he grits out, his thrusts into you harsh and passionate all at the same time. You can tell by his tone that he’s more hurt than he is angry about you running off to the frontlines of a nearby wanderer quarantine. The deep timbre of his voice conveys more worry and vulnerability than it does domination and accusation.

Your heart flutters at how adorably pouty Zayne was being, in his own way. It was rare for him to act on his emotions like this, and it reminded you of how far the two of you had come. His hands gripped you forcibly, almost as if he was afraid you’d disappear on him again. His face buried into your chest, savoring your intoxicating scent like it was the air he needed to survive. The way your warm plush skin tasted on his tongue and felt against his canines.

So you let him throw you around like a fucktoy, letting him feel how absolutely and irrevocably his, you were. You held him tightly to your chest, kissing the shell of his ear as he rutted into you like a madman, suckling on your breasts like he thought you might lactate for him. The blend of possessive domination and raw neediness was driving you insane.

Zayne tears himself away from your chest, looking up at you with heated expectation, his eyes hazy with animalistic desire, “Nothing to say, Y/N?” He punctuates his question with a harsh thrust that prods against your g-spot, all the way to your cervix.

You gasp out, almost choking for air, “M’sorry Zayne. I-I’ll make it up t’y-you.” His fingers grip you tighter as he relentlessly bounces you on his lap, his fat cock bullying into your g spot. Your teeth dig into your lip as you feel your cunt trembling, close to release.

Zayne nestles his face into the area where your neck meets your collarbone, gasping out as you get increasingly tighter, until it feels like he’s suffocating with pleasure.

“Let me cum in you,” he growls, moving back to your chest, nipping at the swell of your breasts, lapping at a reddened bruise he’d unwittingly left there. Zayne normally wasn’t keen on these juvenile displays of affection, leaving hickeys like a horny highschooler. But something about the way you constantly threw yourself into the face of danger for others, left him uncharacteristically uncontrollable and unrestrained.

“Let me leave my mark in you so you know better than to go running off into danger without me again.”

A string of whimpers escapes your mouth at his possessive yet sensitive words, clearly still miffed at the memory of your injured state after saving the pair of young siblings in the quarantine zone. Your talented, self-controlled, god-like surgeon, falling apart at the seams, for you.

It’s all enough to have you at the cusp of another mind-bending orgasm, your eyes rolling up as you try to warn him, “Z-Zayne, c-close.”

Zayne chuckles as you warn him. How adorable you were to think he needed to be told, as if he didn’t know your body like the back of his hand. That he couldn’t feel the telltale way your pussy pulsed and quivered around his cock, so tightly it threatened to break him.

“Look at me, my love. I need to see you.” He rams up into you, hands possessively on your hips, bringing you down forcefully with each upward thrust. You focus your eyes on him, eyelids hooded with an exhausted pleasure.

Through your blurry vision, you can see that Zayne is close too. His jaw ticks dangerously, teeth grit to hold the swears back. His golden emerald eyes meet yours, and he smiles, his fingers threading into the back of your head.

“Just like that, look at me when you cum,” he demands, pulling your face forward to capture your lips in a final kiss that would have you tumbling down the cliff of ecstasy. His tongue demands entry, teasing the seam of your lips. His fingers cup your face, thumb stroking your cheekbone.

You moan into his mouth as your body succumbs to yet another orgasm, your fingernails scraping into his back. Zayne groans into you as the sting of your nails against his skin intensifies the pleasure of your pussy practically wringing his cock dry, forcing the orgasm out of him.

It’s a passionate and furious gnashing of tongue and skin, his thighs, wet with your release, pounding up into you. Your combined whimpers of pleasure mix with the wet smacks of your ass against his thighs, creating the most sinful blanket of lust-filled ecstasy in Zayne’s living room.

His seed erupts inside you, hot, plenty, and demanding. Demanding to be inside you. Demanding to claim you.

Zayne’s thrusts slow, but don’t stop, plugging you completely full of him. He finally pulls away from your lips, breathing heavily as goosebumps of overstimulation litter his skin. He keeps going until you tap his shoulders in surrender. He chuckles, lifting you easily off of him, removing himself from you.

Your thighs quiver as you remain seated on Zayne’s lap, his fingers rubbing delicate circles on your waist. His lips brush gentle kisses on your collar, savoring the moment of intimacy and adoration that falls over the two of you.

Zayne shifts so that he can look at you, cupping your chin gently in his fingers.

“How are you feeling Y/N?” His deep voice is filled with concern, eyes searching yours, “Was I too…enthusiastic?”

You giggle tiredly, your voice filled with playful teasing, “Maybe a bit. But I loved it. I love you.”

Zayne chuckles, bringing your face back down to rest on his chest, his bare skin peeking through the robe that had become untied amidst all the movement. He cradles your head against his body, his arms secure and protective against you, his lips pressing kisses into the top of your head.

“Can you blame me?” He presses his lips into the space below your ear, leaving a trail of kissing down your neck and along your shoulders.

“When you’re constantly worried about the woman you love…it can leave one a bit pent up.”

His lips on your singed skin has you shivering against him, your fingers trailing up and down his chest, “And are you still…pent up?”

The corner of Zayne’s lips quirk up, the blood rushing back south as he feels you writhe against his most fleeting touches. Always so responsive to his touch.

Zayne uses one hand to guide your chin up towards him, his smile hungry and affectionate all at the same time. His other hand holds yours, and you jolt off his chest when he wraps your fingers around something wet, hot, and hard.

“You could say that.”

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