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poisonf0rest · 7 months ago

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Overc*mming Writer's Block 2

𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐈, 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐈𝐈, 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐈𝐈𝐈

♱⋅── zayne x reader

♱⋅── tags: smut, teasing, oral, cunnilingus, road head, car sex woohoo, pwp

♱⋅── about: Between being in the midst of your medical residency and being an up-and-coming author, it’s safe to say your personal life has been placed on stand-still. That is, until your editor decided that your next novel needed explicit smut scenes. That is, until your mentor and boss ends up striking a deal for you to help with “inspiration” for said novel. That is, until you fuck Zayne four times and your life changes forever. Partially inspired by manga of the same name by Nae Awaji

♱⋅── word count: 6.6K

art credit to @/kaito_aii on X

This is the last time you have sex on a weekday.

When Zayne left your apartment last night, you tried to write while the aftereffects of everything he did to you- everything he watched you do- still lingered. But you were beyond distracted, unable to even sit still without being assaulted with vivid flashbacks, a mix of mortification and lust coursing anew.

You shut your laptop and scream into your pillow.

Only after feeling sufficiently lightheaded do you shut off the lights and try to sleep, but the damned thing avoids you like the plague, and you stare at the ceiling for an untimed eternity. Everything feels wrong. Your blanket feels too thick, your skin too tight, the entire room too warm, too empty.

You don’t get more than three hours of sleep that night.

But it should be common knowledge that hospitals rest for no one, and you jolt out of bed to the sound of your pager beeping, rushing in while the sky is still dark.

The ambulance pulls in at the same time you do and the paramedics are already yelling out the status to everyone at the bay: forty-three-year-old male, chest trauma, performing CPR. It’s a race, a rush and rhythm you know well. You’re scrubbed down and entering the operating room alongside two other surgeons. The patient is intubated and they give the countdown before cutting him open.

It took two and a half hours to perform the surgery and stop all the internal bleeding, and by the end of it, you were exhausted, both physically and mentally.

But this was the most in control you’ve felt for a while. A sharp sort of stress that forced your hands into a trained precision and your mind into a rigorous sort of calm. It was almost as though you became a different person entirely, one you both admire and hate.

She’s calm and collected, only speaking when needed in commands to the operating room. She demands respect. She is who your mother is proud of, who you were supposed to be.

You’ve only just washed your hands and finished debriefing when you feel that half of you begin to slip away once more. And as the stress leaves, your mind wanders back to last night. To Zayne.

Thoughts that haunt you for the rest of the morning.

Finally, the clock hits eight and the ER is busy with the morning crowd. You do what you can until the other residents clock in, leaving to finally eat breakfast and get some sort of caffeine before your headache gets any worse.

Luckily, the vending machine has your favorite melonpan and green tea, and you get two of each. Sitting down, open your laptop and begin eating in the hallway outside the surgery bay, your manuscript staring right back at you, mocking.

Your eyes burn holes through the cursor blinking at the top of the page, and you try to will yourself to just type something, anything, but it doesn't work, and you end up slamming the computer shut with a sigh.

Unintentionally, your male lead has begun to resemble Zayne more and more- not physically, at least- but in his little mannerisms, his overly formal speech habit, and even his uncharacteristic love of sweets. Your lips quirk up at the memory.

But speak of the devil, and he shall appear.

Zayne comes from the other end of the hallway, looking like he also might be coming out from a surgery. He’s only meters away when his eyes lock onto yours.

You straighten against the chair, a shiver of heat racing down your spine as his mere presence sends an onslaught of flashbacks that are nothing short of sinful.

Stop. What happened last night is part of a professional, mutually beneficial deal. Zayne is still your mentor— your boss too, in some contexts— and you refuse to have these thoughts about him in your place of work.

Smiling, your fingers still against the keyboard as you hope the whole thing doesn’t look as strained as it feels.

Zayne looks the opposite of amused. If anything, he appears pissed.

His gaze narrows on you, and for a second, you think you spot something else behind the cold indifference. But the look passes as quickly as it appeared, his face back to its usual stony expression, and you must have imagined it.

“Good morning, Dr. Zayne,” you say.

Zayne stalls, shoulders tensing for a moment before he nods and continues walking. He doesn’t spare you another glance as he passes, doesn’t say another word, the awkward tension so thick it almost makes you choke on your melonpan.

Your eyes trail after him until he rounds the corner.

Well, that went splendidly.

You try to type again, but it turns out your brain is a useless lump of flesh because no matter how many times you read over the paragraph, the words fail to register. You huff out an exasperated breath, slam the laptop shut, and drag yourself to your office to prepare for rounds.

Even so, you go through your morning routine with a strained smile, a newfound weight pulling against your chest, a sharp sort of pain between guilt and longing you’ve never felt before.

Zayne is going to lose his fucking mind.

He is an adult, he reminds himself. A well-mannered, respectful, professional adult.

So why can’t he stop imagining your face underneath him as you come undone? Why can’t he get the memory of every sound you made, the overly sweet way you said his name, the very cadence of your voice out of his head?

And the way you said please.

Zayne grinds his teeth hard enough that something clicks in the back of his jawbone, his usual flat expression twisted with a scowl that sends other doctors and residents scrambling out from his path. His clipboard groans under the pressure from his grip, and Zayne can’t make it to his private office fast enough before he slams the door shut and drags his palm down his face.

He sees you every time he closes his eyes.

“Fuck.”

Zayne swore to himself that helping you would change nothing in the workplace, and yet clearly, only one of you was mature enough to hold that part of your deal up.

This must be a new level of depravity Zayne never assumed he would stoop to.

But it had been torture to only watch you last night. A beautiful, painful torture he would subject himself to again and again and again just for the chance to have you writhing against him like that once more.

The way your doe eyes had practically begged for him to fuck you all on their own when he forced you to look up nearly made him come in his trousers. And thank god you were too far gone to notice how desperate he was, grinding insistently against your bedsheets while you came around his fingers. And now…

And now Zayne was fucking hard again in his office of all places.

It was a wonder he got anything done anymore.

Zayne hasn't had a lover in years and it's beginning to wear him thin. And yet, the idea of finding someone else to satiate his needs doesn’t appeal to him in the slightest. Not when his mind is so consumed with the thought of you, and the sounds you made, the way you looked at him, the way your eyes would roll to the back of your head every time he curled his fingers into that spot inside of you.

God, he should have just asked you out on a date first.

Restraint had come easy to him. Zayne was practically raised on it, his very life dependent on his ability to restrain his Evol, the lives of others dependent on his patience and restraint in the operating room.

But no, when it came to you, everything failed him.

Maybe he had been a little harsh this morning. Zayne doesn’t know. He doesn't want to think about it.

Running a hand through his hair, Zayne imagines bumping into you again. Would you still be happy to see him, smiling as you did this morning, or would you ignore him just as he did you?

“About this morning,” Zayne stops, restarts. “I’m sorry for avoiding conversation earlier today.” A groan, “No, I can’t begin like that. This morning I wasn’t myself, there was a patient who required percutaneous coronary intervention and the stress must have gotten to me.”

He tries again, and again, gesturing to his empty office before dragging a palm down his face. “I must be going insane.”

Zayne has never felt more foolish in his life.

He doesn't even have the excuse of a lack of experience in this field. In his previous relationships, he was always the one to initiate dates and intimacy, and it was the same with any relation that had lasted longer than one night.

But you are different.

The thought of taking his time with you makes him weak. To finally have your legs wrapped around his waist, to finally hear his name on your lips, to finally have your body pressed flush against his and hear you beg for him once more.

He wants to do so much more for you, wants you to use him as you need, to take and take everything he has to give. Wants to surrender to your every whim and every outrageous idea you’ve ever had floating around in that unpredictable head of yours. Wants to taste you, and see if you taste as sweet as you sound when you beg.

Wants to know how your cunt feels and what face you would make when he finally, finally fucks you.

God, Zayne wants to ruin you.

He wants so badly it drives him mad.

Zayne can't avoid you, and he shouldn’t. There are still matters to discuss for your novel and a deal to hold up. He is a man of his word.

A date.

That could work. Just a way to get closer, as colleagues, as partners.

You would have to spend time together outside the hospital, where the air is clear of any distractions and expectations and Zayne can get his head on straight. Even moreso, it should be something nice, something that will hopefully take your mind off your impending deadline.

Right, that would be perfect. An opportunity to simply be providing you with the proper inspiration and guidance, as a good mentor should, and keep his end of the deal should you ask for another inspiration session.

Turning back in his chair, Zayne begins filtering through his email and paper files, until something slips from the growing stack.

The annual charity gala.

As a resident yourself, you were likely already invited, so proposing the two of you go together shouldn’t be too ostentatious, right?

Zayne stares down at the gilded gold lettering.

No. It was definitely out of line in so many ways. But the only other option was to continue down this path, to continue fooling himself that he only agreed to be your fuck buddy out of courtesy and care, and not these wretched thoughts that plauge his every waking moment.

It would mean he’d be completely at your mercy for seeing you next, whenever you needed him. Or his body, at least.

Zayne doesn’t have the willpower to last that long. Besides, this is more efficient.

So, Zayne opens the letter, pulls the invitation card from its envelope, and begins drafting an email to you in hopes of preserving a little bit of his dignity.

He didn’t even have to wait an hour to get your response: you said yes.

______

Zayne opens the car door for you, ever the gentleman.

Sliding into the passenger seat, you take extra care not to snag the hem of your cocktail dress on your heels or the door. By the time you buckle your seat belt, and the car roars to life, dashboard glowing a soft orange.

"Ready?" Zayne asks, adjusting his cuff as he begins to reverse out of the parking spot.

It’s the first time Zayne has formally invited you to be his plus one, and the thought of being seen beside him like this- at such a formal gala, no less- is all at once thrilling and nauseating.

Zayne steals another glance at you, and where your hands lay clenched in your lap. "It’s just a hospital event, you may very well see other residents there."

A laugh. "I'm not sure if that makes me feel better or worse."

Even without the extra stress from attending this gala, your stomach has been in knots all day long-- your manuscript is due in less than a week. You’ve written a lot, and Zayne’s hands-on “experience” helped you get ample inspiration for most of the main scenes. Yet you can feel the deadline creeping up, the sense of impending doom looming over you.

Of course Zayne notices. "We'll try and have fun, it's just a couple of hours. I heard they also have billiard tables, if you’re interested?” A tap on the steering wheel, then he adds, a little quieter, “Your dress is nice. The color suits you.”

You smile, but your eyes don’t leave the road. Instead, you seem to zone out on the row of streetlights, shadows cast over your face as they pass by, one by one.

“You clean up pretty well yourself, doctor.”

Zayne continues. “Tell me more about your novel’s progress, then. If you need any more assistance…” he trails off, and you feel a prickling heat creep up the back of your neck. Finally, you look away from the window, and Zayne relaxes against his seat.

So you begin to tell him about the newest trope your editor wants you to include, a classic in enemies-to-lovers books: forced proximity. “The concept is great. Who doesn’t love it when the two characters who swear they hate each other accidentally get stuck together and turned on at the worst possible time?”

You ramble, propping your arm against the car armrest as you turn to face Zayne. "So,” you say, ”I'm trying to think of ways they could find themselves in such a situation. Maybe they're cornered by guards or captured by a mutual enemy, or we combine the classic injury trope so they can’t move.”

"That is one option," he says, eyes still on the road. A turn, and Zayne shifts gears as the car speeds ahead.

“A classic my mind says no, but my body says yes dilemma.” You debate telling Zayne about the premise around aphrodisiacs and sex pollen, but you think that really might be pushing him too far. You are in a car, after all, and an accident is the last thing you want.

Instead, you ask, "Have you read any enemy-to-lover books?"

He shrugs. "I've had some experience."

"I'm sure you have."

Zayne shoots you a sharp look. Your smile grows, slow and wicked.

"And I've done a bit of research," he clarifies, voice flat just to prove a point.

"Right, research."

"Well, to best help you, I thought…” Zayne’s brows furrow as he merges lanes, letting the blinking of the indicator fill the silence before clearing his throat. “I thought reading a book or two in the same field would help me understand your own book better. I must say yours is far better written than some of these popular novels.”

The mental image of Zayne sneaking a read at some filthy romantasy book has you giggling.

"And you’re sure that's the reason?”

"Of course," he says, though his face is slightly pink.

You feign suspicion, poking at Zayne’s arm. "What if this whole time, you’ve been hunting me down as a means to read my unreleased books? Then the only reason you agreed to this arrangement is because you're secretly a stalker fan."

"Interesting theory,” a smirk, one you see pull at the corner of Zayne’s lips. “But not the only reason."

"Oh? What’s the other then?"

Zayne smiles, the dim light from the dashboard sharpening his features. Another turn, you spare a glance at the GPS only to see you’re nearly at the gala venue. But still, no answer came, not as Zayne seemed to refocus on the road, shifting gears as the light turns green.

You groan, “You’re not even listening anymore.”

“I am.” Zayne shoots you a look from the corner of his eye, one hand leaving the wheel to rest against your thigh. “There is, however, a difference between listening and answering.”

But now it’s your turn to stop listening. You can’t, not when his thumb does that thing again, tracing mindless circles against your inner thigh while he looks back at the road.

It does something, to have his hand there, warm and heavy. Something that has your thighs pressing together, heat creeping down your neck.

Zayne catches the motion. Of course, he does. And he squeezes, just a little.

And then a brilliantly wretched idea hits you.

"Do you have any suggestions?" You ask, trying to keep your tone innocent, even as you part your thighs just a little further. "I mean, you did research and all. Surely, you remember something useful about the plots. Or the sex scenes."

"The sex scenes," Zayne echoes, his voice tight.

"Well, yes. They're kind of important. They're why people buy the books." You lick your lips. "For example, surely one of those books you read for research had interesting forbidden tropes?"

"It's likely." His jaw ticks. "You'll have to be more specific.”

"Well..." you draw the word out, shifting in your seat. “You know where else would be a really inappropriate place for a character to get a boner?” Reaching over, you glide your hand up Zayne’s thigh, mirroring his placement on your own. “In a car, doctor.”

Zayne thanked every god for their mercy the moment he got to a red light, car jolting to a halt as he eyed you with a frown.

“Behave," he scolds. "This is beyond reckless."

The genuine frustration edged into Zayne’s voice makes you hesitate, and you move to sit up, retreating your hand from his thigh when it brushes past something unmistakably hard.

You feel Zayne tense beneath you, the car jerking forward before speeding along as though nothing had happened. Oh, but your lips cracked into a vicious grin as you stretched your way fully over the center console, wriggling your ass in the air on the far side of the seat.

Really, you should have realized that the stern, self-deprived Zayne gets off on scolding you as much as you did.

You watch him closely, but despite his harsh words, he never moves to actually stop you. So you continue, scraping your nails up his trousers as your mouth follows, hot breath leaving damp spots against the expensive cotton as Zayne’s thigh jumps under your touch.

God, the click of his belt coming undone elicited a nearly Pavlovian response at this point, the sound of metal on metal making something in your core flutter. You waste no time going for his zipper, palming at the bulge straining into your touch as it pushes out from between the metal all on its own.

Zayne laments all the trust you placed in him as a driver. Despite being only minutes from the venue, he swore he was gripping the steering wheel hard enough for it to snap. A car behind him honks and Zayne swears under his breath, thoughts clouding over as your hands finish sliding his zipper down, gently palming at his cock as he inhales sharply at the feeling of your hot breath over clothed skin.

And the moan Zayne lets out when you lick the head of his cock is enough to have you gushing. But you never take him any deeper, blocked by your position over the passenger seat, settling with unsatisfactory kitten licks up and down his length, leaving sloppy marks without ever speeding up.

Zayne shudders, huffing in frustration and restraint as he unconsciously tries to buck himself into your mouth, failing due to the awkward side angle you placed yourself in. Instead, you splay your hands over his lower belly, untucking his shirt as your fingers rub against his v-line, as you begin to suck just barely over this throbbing head.

“You shouldn’t– fuck." His jaw flexes, and his fingers are white-knuckled, the veins in his forearms standing out with the strain.

The shock of hearing Zayne curse was almost a physical blow. The word was spoken more like a prayer than a profanity, something desperate and violent caught in his throat, a warning and plea all at once. It made something hot coil deep in your gut.

It made you want to push him further.

You must have made some type of sound muffled over his cock because Zayne hisses, his hand coming down from the steering wheel to grab at your hair, fingers threading into your scalp and pulling, just enough to hurt.

"You are absolutely insufferable." Zayne's voice breaks into a moan. "Stop teasing me."

You pull off of him with a wet pop, sitting up and wiping the drool from your chin. "But I’m hardly doing anything. Don’t tell me you’re getting so hard just from a few kisses."

"Reckless. Lack of foresight. Do I need to teach you how to behave like an adult?" Zayne's grip on the steering wheel tightens, his jaw clenching. You can practically feel the heat radiating off him.

"No," you lean forward and kiss the head, lips wrapping around it as you swirl your tongue. Zayne's foot presses down on the gas and the car jerks forward. "But maybe I could use some help learning my lesson."

You swallow him down, and his hips jump. Humming around him, Zayne’s cock twitches, and before you can stabilize yourself he’s pushing your head down further. You don’t think he realizes he’s doing it, not with the way his hips stutter upwards, thickly corded muscles of his thighs tensing as you nearly choke.

Another broken moan fills the car alongside the wet sounds of your mouth, drool leaking from the corners of your lips as his cock bumps the back of your throat. You gag, and Zayne’s grip on your head finally loosens, the wheels spinning over loose gravel as you pull off just to breathe.

You can't see him, not with the angle, but the feeling of his eyes on you, burning into the side of your face, and the heavy throb of his cock against your tongue was enough to know just how close he is.

You're so distracted, tears blurring your vision, that you don't notice the car has stopped, not until Zayne's other hand is reaching over to cup your jaw, forcing your mouth off his cock and forcing your head up to look at him.

The moment your eyes meet, he frowns, thumb rubbing across your bottom lip, cleaning your smeared lipstick and spit from your ministrations. "Look at you," he hums. "What a mess."

The nearby spots in the lot are empty, but you’ve arrived early, and you can see cars parking close enough to send your heart racing.

You glance at the clock- seven forty-six- and you know despite how Zayne’s windows are tinted, it would take someone looking over from a meter or so away to see the two of you, to see the way Zayne's hands are fisted in your hair, to see you arched over the middle console, to see how hard he was and hear the slick, wet noises you made around his cock.

You nearly yelp as Zayne pushes you off his lap, messily tucking himself back into his trousers before climbing out the door. It shuts with a bang and you’re about to scramble up when you hear the passenger door open and are roughly hauled out of the car and slung over Zayne’s shoulder.

You don’t even have time to scream. The next thing you know, you're being tossed on your back into the back seat, barely having time to right yourself before Zayne follows you, door slamming shut. He's pulling at your dress, bunching the fabric up and around your waist before dragging you under him.

“Did I not satisfy you thoroughly enough last time?” Zayne scolds between breaths, teeth scraping over your pulse point before he bites down. “Or perhaps what I should have realized is that you’re simply a filthy little girl who gets off on being punished?”

The sound you let out is obscene, a whiny moan that has Zayne groaning as he pulls away, his mouth slick and shiny with spit. He grinds his cock against your stomach, his hand coming around your throat and forcing you to face him.

It’s almost effortless, the way he holds you against him, folding your thighs to your chest as he bends to avoid hitting the roof of his car. His cock is still rock hard and pressed against the back of your thighs, only the thin slip of your dress shielding you from his greedy eyes.

"Zayne- fuck, we're gonna be late." You choke out, a gasp following as his hips grind into yours.

“Answer the question.”

Another bite to the plush above your breast and you cry, fearing more for the possibility that he leaves a permanent mark more than anything else. As if hearing that, Zayne bites again. Harder.

“Yes!” You thrash, trying to kick him off you but there’s little room in the back seats and the leather sticks to your sweat-slick back as Zayne works to pin your hips. “Yes, I’m sorry. I only— I wanted to see how long you’d last.”

A laugh, short and cruel. “How long I’d last?”

Zayne grabs your wrists and holds them over your head. He leans close, so his lips brush yours when he speaks, and the words are low and soft. Dangerous.

"Well, then. Allow me to return the favor.” Zayne lifts your leg, pressing a kiss to your calf as your foot hits the window, one heel falling off with a thud. “If memory serves me right, isn’t this a trope too?”

It’s almost effortless, the way he lifts your hips all the way up, your legs kicking helplessly over his shoulders as they’re forced up against the roof of the car. Shifting his weight around in the tight space, Zayne coaxes your calves to cross behind his neck, giving a small grunt as his face is pressed into your inner thighs, one arm straining against the leather of the car seats.

“Where they’re stuck in a small space, right?” Zayne’s eyes never leave yours. “Maybe a cave,” his tongue trails up the bare skin of your quivering thigh, “Under a desk,” licking his way up, “in a car?”

He doesn’t give you a chance to answer, not when the heat of his mouth presses directly onto your clothed clit, licking over the lace of your panties as you arch off the leather seats.

You’re already a dripping mess, writhing against the leather of the seats and the hard muscle of Zayne's shoulders, the sensation of his hot tongue pushing against your clit through the lace a painful sort of pleasure. Not enough. Not nearly enough.

Zayne pulls off and stares at the string of his spit and your arousal, warm and sticky, against the soaked patch of cotton between your legs connecting to his lips. Involuntarily, he bucks into the cold emptiness underneath you.

Fuck, he’s so hard he might come from this alone.

You hardly notice, not with the way every muscle and nerve quivers and begs for release, jaw falling slack as Zayne’s lips are quick to tease you again, this time pressing his tongue flat against the crotch of your panties and laving across the entire seam. The gorgeous arch of his nose presses up into your clit, and you moan, one hand flailing backways as it slides against the fogged-up window.

"Zayne, fucking hell, just eat me out properly!" The curses tumble out of your mouth before you can think of the repercussions, but there was no way he could keep eating you out through the material, no matter how good it felt.

"So desperate." Zayne mumbles between open-mouthed kisses to your cunt, "So needy."

"Fuck- please," You draw one hand through his hair, pulling his face closer. "Please, please, please-"

"Poor thing. I suppose it would be against my oath to leave my patient in such pain." And he roughly presses his thumb up against the hood of your clit.

You sob, hands scrambling for something- anything- to hold on to as they slip down the window and dig into the leather of the seats. But Zayne was nothing if not observant from your last night together, and it doesn't take long for you to cum as soon as his mouth latches onto your poor neglected cunt through your panties.

Still riding out each trembling wave of your orgasm, Zayne doesn’t fight the way your thighs clench around his head, kissing you through it until he readjusts your legs against his shoulders, forcing you higher onto your upper back. His fingers toy with the edge of the fabric, pleased with the way it sticks to your skin.

All you can focus on is his breathing, heavy and fast, as he stares down at your cunt so intensely it makes you blush, helplessly exposed with your thighs pinned across his broad shoulders. Spread for him like every inch of the offering he intended on devouring you as. His goddess, his sacrificial lamb. Gods, he wants to know how every part of you tastes.

Zayne’s cock twitches again, and he shudders violently, a fat glob of precum falling onto the leather seats below, mixing with your slick that has already slid down his chin and your thighs.

If left alone, no doubt it’ll stain.

“Look at the mess you made.” Zayne scolds, forcing your jaw to the side so you can see the puddle staining the seats. You whimper, and Zayne shakes his head. “Well, we can’t just leave it. I suppose I’ll have to teach you to take responsibility for your actions.”

Your hips jump. It's so hard to focus when he's talking like that, and the only coherent thought you can muster is that Zayne would be a fantastic writer if he ever decided to switch professions.

But he begins to shift you around, and your brows furrow as Zayne’s hand dips between the two of you, down to the leather, sweeping across the splattered mix of cum with two fingers before forcing your jaw towards him again.

“Clean up your mess.”

You think something is permanently fucked in your brain with the way your cunt flutters at that.

Zayne’s unyielding face stares down at you, his dripping fingers pressed against your lips as you wrap around them and suck. It’s heady, the scent of sex overwhelming as Zayne practically fucks the digits into your mouth, sliding them against your tongue until you gag, thumb tracing loving circles against your bottom lip as though coaxing you to take them deeper.

Only after gagging twice more does Zayne take mercy on you, withdrawing his fingers from your mouth. Instead, the pads of his fingers press against your tongue, and you take the hint, beginning to suck at them until the taste of you disappears.

His fingers slip from your mouth, a trail of spit connecting his fingers and your mouth before Zayne breaks it. Your tongue flicks out to swipe at the excess drool, and he wipes your bottom lip.

“Good girl, tasting just how desperate you are.” Every word of praise Zayne whispers goes straight to your cunt, nearly making you dizzy until he finally sits back.

“And now…” he finally moves to push the ruined fabric to the side, “I get to taste, too.”

The feeling of his hot tongue directly on your slit nearly has you in tears, and your hand lurches into Zayne’s hair to force him closer.

“No pulling. Behave,” Zayne warns. “This is still meant to be discipline for your earlier stunt on the road.”

Whimpering, you nod, parted lips swollen and shiny from the abuse Zayne put them under with his fingers. Satisfied, Zayne finally gives you what you need, kissing the swollen flesh of your clit directly before curling two fingers into your aching cunt.

“Zayne-”

He’s addicted to the way you say his name. He’s addicted, and he’s going to come in his pants if you don’t stop.

You begin begging again before Zayne covers your mouth with the palm of his hand, muffled cries still enough to drive him insane as he focuses on getting you past that high.

Despite his threats, you can’t help but tug at Zayne’s hair, needing him against you as your hips began moving or their own accord, bucking and grinding senselessly against his face until you were practically riding his tongue. Chest heaving, you looked up to see him staring directly at you, silhouetted from the car window, green eyes nearly aglow with wretched desire.

Just like that, you’re coming, hard, thighs clenching down around Zayne’s head until he’s certain you’re trying to kill him. But gods, he never wants you to stop.

Addicted, Zayne presses open mouthed kisses to your cunt, swallowing everything you give him as his eyes roll back.

Desperate, you try to crawl away from him, but there’s nowhere to go. Your head hits the car door before Zayne drags you right back, forcing your hips up higher as your back is arched into the air, nearly perpendicular as you sob, legs kicking over his shoulders.

But still, Zayne continues, and he knows. He feels it the moment your thighs lock up, the way your stomach goes tight and the way your senseless pleading still muffled by his palm reaches a higher pitch. And he takes advantage, not letting up as he curls his fingers until your cunt clenches down on his digits and tongue, squirting into his mouth.

Almost in apology, Zayne finally withdraws his fingers as he opts to instead clean you directly with his tongue, nose accidentally overstimulating your swollen clit as you weakly fight to push his head away.

Zayne takes the hint this time, lowering your sore legs onto the seats below, finally set on a solid surface after being held in the air for so long. The slit of your dress is askew across your stomach instead of thigh, and Zayne gently tugs it back into place.

Leaning down, he picks up your forgotten heel before slipping it back into your foot, buckling it as you shiver every time his fingers brush your ankle.

When Zayne finally faces you again, the lower half of his face is a complete mess, and you should be mortified never having squirted before let alone on your mentor’s face.

But Zayne merely wipes the back of his hand across his mouth, smiling like the slick dripping down his chin was won in victory and not debauchery. “Well then, shall we?”

#𝖕𝖔𝖎𝖘𝖔𝖓 writes #love and deepspace #love and deepspace fanfiction #lnds zayne #love and deepspace x reader #lads zayne #zayne x reader #zayne love and deepspace #lnds smut #l&ds smut #love and deepspace smut #lads x reader #love and deepspace zayne #li shen

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frostedfragments · 7 days ago

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truly, madly, deeply ✧.* zayne x reader ✧.* 5.3k words ✧.* friends to lovers summary: zayne loses control warnings!: needy, pathetic!zayne, first time smut, oral (fem receiving), fingering, creampie, zayne cums in his pants again???, zayne isn't a sub but...the potential is there note: intended as a sequel to exclusive tutorial

divider cred. @enchanthings-a

It’s been three days since you left his apartment and Zayne can still smell your perfume clinging to the space around him.

After you fell asleep on his chest, he’d carried you to his bedroom and left you alone to sleep, not wanting to wake you for fear you might leave and the whole night would crumble. He imagined waking up, face smushed against the papers on his desk back at the hospital, the evening of you trembling in his arms, coming on his fingers, gone from existence.

It wouldn’t be the first time that had happened.

He had taken the couch, worried he might overwhelm or spook you if he got into bed with you after everything that had happened. There was no way you weren’t gonna end up in his arms, his hips grinding his dick into your ass the moment his body woke him up. He had to regain some semblance of control, and so, he’d slept on the sofa. When he woke up to a call telling him he had to get to the hospital for an emergency surgery, he’d poked his head through the doorway to his room and found you sleeping soundly, his blankets twisted around your bare legs. He’d smiled, relieved, and had left you a note. By the time he got back six hours later, you’d left, and his note sat exactly where he’d left it on the pillow in his room.

He tried not to spiral, he really did, but it didn’t take long for the old thoughts to creep in. You don’t deserve her, you’ve ruined your friendship by mauling her last night, now she doesn’t want to speak to you. He’d spent the last three days worried he had pushed you too fast that night; he had meant to teach you how to kiss, goddamnit, not lose himself in you. He’s like an addict where you’re concerned, and he worries he won’t be able to return to any sense of normalcy now that he knows how you sound when you come. The way you’d whimpered his name has been the soundtrack to his life every day since, and now, as he shrugs off his jacket in the hallway of yours and Caleb’s grandma’s home, he is itching to see you again.

“Zaynie, you’re here,” A small, white-haired woman walks through the archway and grabs Zayne’s hand, smiling up at him before reaching up to pat him on the cheek, “You’re too skinny. You need to eat more,”

He smiles down at her indulgently, “I’ll be sure to do that, granny,”

“Good,” She sniffs, letting her arm hang off the crook of his elbow and dragging him through to the living room, “Caleb is already here. Dinner will be ready soon, once ___ is here we can eat. Where is that girl?”

Zayne let’s Granny wander through to the kitchen, muttering to herself, and walks over to the sofa opposite Caleb, who watches him with a familiarly blank expression. Zayne isn’t sure when the two of them went from friends to…whatever they are now, but he does know that they’ve grown to tolerate each other for your sake, and Granny’s.

He feels uneasy under Caleb’s eyes, as if he knows every little secret - as if he knows about what he did to you the other night. He wonders with a faint sense of alarm whether you would have told him, but he doubts it. Even so, he busies himself looking at his phone to avoid Caleb’s assessing stare.

Dinner is painfully awkward, and you can’t even bring yourself to look around the table. Just being in Zayne’s presence puts you on edge, his eyes trailing over your form as if he is touching you.

When you’d walked into granny’s house, you had immediately sensed Zayne was already here. Walking into the living room just to see him sitting there, one long leg propped on his knee, his black shirt stretching over the same broad shoulders you’d dug your fingernails into as you’d rocked in his lap the other night. A shiver works its way through you at the memory, and Caleb leans over.

“Cold?”

You look up only to immediately lock eyes with Zayne for half a second, darting them towards Caleb instead, a stiff smile on your face, “No, I’m okay,” you say, but your gaze is soon magnetised to the man opposite you once again.

Zayne doesn’t take his eyes off you, chewing his food slowly. His ears are pink, and you wonder briefly if he’s thinking of that night. You wonder if he’s mad you left, and that you haven’t returned any of his texts, but your worries are washed away when you remember that Zayne doesn’t get mad. At least he never has with you, but maybe now it’s different.

You really hadn’t meant to leave him hanging - that night had been such a whirlwind you’d barely processed it by the time you were unlocking the door to your apartment and walking in wearing the same clothes from the night before. You had never done the walk of shame before, never had the chance, but what you did with Zayne didn’t make you feel shameful. Quite the opposite, you felt hot, charged with a painful desire you hadn’t felt before. The same desire that had led to your hands working their way into your panties the last two nights, trying and failing to recreate the magic that Zayne’s fingers had worked on your body.

The reason you couldn’t speak to him after all that was because you weren’t even sure what you were meant to say, or do. You’d never done this before, never even had a crush on a friend before, and you had realised each time you’d opened up your message thread with Zayne only to close it again in frustration, that you’re out of your depth.

You want him - your thighs ache with it, your underwear already dampening each time you watch Zayne’s fingers shift around his chopsticks, and you know he’s watching you. But he’s your best friend, he’s one of the most important people in your life, and you can’t bear the thought of somehow messing up and losing him.

What if you’re bad at sex? What if he gets impatient or annoyed when you don’t know how to make him feel as good as he made you feel? You’ve heard horror stories from your friends about their first times, and you’d gotten close to having sex with a guy back in college, but you had chickened out the moment you walked into his dorm room and saw the condoms on his nightstand.

He hadn’t even kissed you, and he’d bought condoms.

But there’s a part of you that thinks it would be different with Zayne. He’s a man, not a boy, and the raw, feverish way he’d kissed you the other night makes you hope that maybe it would be enjoyable. Maybe you wouldn’t be writhing around in pain like your college friends used to describe their first times.

The idea of it suddenly makes you clench hard; new, foreign muscles locking tight at the idea of Zayne’s hands on your body again. When you shift in your seat, Zayne glances over at you again, his eyes trailing from your lips, lower and lower until he’s staring at the part of your body hidden by the table. His hand clenches tight into a fist and he pushes back from the table suddenly.

“I should go, I have an early shift at the hospital tomorrow,” He doesn’t look at you after that, smiling warmly at Granny and waving at Caleb, who waves back half-heartedly, more focused on his noodles.

Your lips part in surprise, and when Zayne disappears into the hallway to grab his coat, you stand too, “I should go too, Granny. I have some work to do before tomorrow,”

The lie stains your insides with guilt, but you can’t let Zayne leave, not without apologising. Pushing the chair back in, you leave your near empty plate and walk briskly into the hall, finding Zayne just as he’s slipping his jacket, adjusting the collar before he pauses, staring at you.

Granny and Caleb are still within earshot, so you nod towards the door, indicating for him to go outside so you can talk. He does, his eyes wide and unguarded, darkening with that familiar heat, but he blinks, and it’s gone. He nods back, turning to open the door, keeping it wide for you to slip through, grabbing your jacket on the way.

It’s chilly outside, but you let your coat hang from your fingers, staring up at Zayne. The confidence from a moment ago has vanished, and you’re left standing before you, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. His breath leaves his parted lips in a soft cloud of white, and when he speaks, his voice is strained.

“Please put on your coat,”

You shrug into it, gasping softly when Zayne reaches forward, as if he can’t stop himself, grasping the buttons and silently doing them up until his hands brush your chin. The contact of his skin on yours has a heady, warm feeling gathering in your stomach, and his hands linger under your chin for a few moments. When he moves away, you can finally breathe.

“I just wanted to, ah, apologise,” You begin, cheeks warm. It’s like you’re a teenager all over again, “I shouldn’t have ignored your messages, I was just…” Words fail you, and you lift your eyes to meet his soft gaze.

“You don’t need to apologise, I understand, ___. You don’t have to explain,” His eyes shutter, the softness that was there now replaced by something haunted, “I went too far. I shouldn’t have done that, I don’t blame you,”

His words throw you for a loop, and you’re struck into silence, wondering if you read him wrong, “What? Why would you think that?”

As soon as the words leave your lips, you realise, shaking your head. If you hadn’t gone radio silent after leaving his apartment, he wouldn’t have assumed the worst. Zayne has always been like this; shouldering the blame, running on this misguided belief that he should know better, that he isn’t just human like the rest of the planet.

Stepping towards him, your hand lands on his chest, “Zayne, no. You didn’t…I wanted that. What we did,” you feel warm again, but you push on, desperate to wipe that tortured look from his face, “I want you. I…I’m sorry for making you think otherwise. This is all new to me,”

As the words spill from your lips, you watch as Zayne’s pupils dilate. You get a hint of the man he became the other night when he kissed you senseless, and you want him to do it again. You need his lips on yours like you need the air in your lungs; it’s a part of your chemical make-up now, this need for Zayne. It’s knitted in your bones, tucked beneath your ribs, throbbing hot and wet between your legs.

“Zayne,” You murmur, tugging his coat gently, desperate for him to touch you, “please, kiss me again. Just like the other night,”

A harsh breath leaves his lungs, deflating his chest as it caves in under your hand. His palm lands in the dip of your waist and you instantly decide there are too many layers between you. He’s breathing deeply, his breath ruffling your bangs as you gaze up at him, “___, please,” his hand grips your coat, fishing the material like he needs to steady himself, “I c- if I kiss you right now I’m - I’ll never stop,”

“Don’t stop,” You plead, running your hands over his chest, moving under his jacket, “I don’t want you to stop,”

His jaw clenches, and he grips your hand, tugging you along towards his car. Your stomach dips with excitement, nerves, arousal, you’re not exactly sure which exactly, but you know that whatever is about to happen will wreck you, ruin you for anyone else, and you think you might already be half in love with Zayne as he tucks you into the passenger seat, his knuckles brushing your thigh through your stockings.

With a hard swallow, he backs away, closing your door and walking around the front of the car. He gets into the driver’s seat, silent save for the ragged way his chest rises and falls, and pulls out of the parking spot so fast you have to hold on.

Zayne is going to fucking combust if he doesn’t get you naked within the next thirty seconds. He’s sure he broke several traffic laws driving to his apartment, and as he pulls you to the elevator in the lobby of his building, he wonders whether he can bribe security to turn off the camera in there.

He forces himself to hold it together, not even able to speak to you for fear he will spew all the filth that’s currently rolling around in his head. He needs to remember you’ve never done this before, that he should be gentle with you, but the words you spoke to him outside your grandma’s house taunt him.

I want you, I want you, I want you.

He’d already been half hard when he left that dining table, thinking he was deluding himself to believe that you were squirming in your seat because of him. Because of the way he was unable to rip his eyes from your pretty, pink lips the moment you turned up. An image of them wrapped around the head of his dick has him bracing against the wall by the elevator for support, and you reach out, a hand on his forearm probably thinking he’s ill or something.

The elevator dings, and he wastes no time pulling you inside and waiting impatiently for the doors to close. He can hear you almost panting, and that little voice in his head tries to convince him you can’t want him as bad as he want’s you. That you don’t feel this unbearable fire running down his spine simply because he’s standing beside you. He wants to push you against the wall, to take your mouth again, to make you taste like him, but he tries, using all of his mental fortitude, to remain in control.

It feels like it takes an hour to reach his floor, and he threads his shaking fingers through yours, needing to feel your skin on his in some way. You have this uncanny ability to ground him and knock him on his ass all in one breath, so by the time you both make it to his door, his cock is pressing eagerly against the fly of his jeans. He almost drops his keys twice trying to open the door, and as he drags you inside, you surprise him by gripping the back of his neck and tugging his lips to yours.

White hot need courses through his veins, the keys are dropped somewhere on the floor, the door is kicked shut and within seconds he’s got you up in the air, dropping your ass down on the console table by the door.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” His hips are rocking between your thighs, the the table knocking into the wall, his heart thudding hard when he notices you’re panting just as hard as him. Your lips parted, hands grasping and tugging his coat into you both successfully get it off his shoulders, letting it land in a heap on the floor, forgotten in the haze of heat and lips and tongue.

He feels like he’s drunk; his coordination is impaired, vision blurry when he pulls back, looking down at you. The rough sound of his voice cuts through the mayhem, “You want this? You really want this?” He asks because he’s, honestly, in disbelief that this is happening right now. He can’t quite comprehend how the angel in front of him, gazing at him with dilated pupils, red lips and a blush coating your neck and chest, wants him.

“Yes,” You whine, and he just about fucking comes, “Please, Zayne, I need it. I’m aching so bad,”

He might cry if you keep talking, so he kisses you instead, picking you up and walking you blindly in the direction of his bedroom. He murmurs against your lips the whole time, so gone for you that he’s not even sure what he’s really saying, “I’ll be so good for you, ___. I’m gonna make it so good -”

You moan against him, grinding your clothed pussy against his stomach. He finds his bedroom, knocking into the door frame in an effort to get you in there as quickly as possible. When he drops you on his bed, he just has to stare at you for a moment, catch his breath, maybe, but mostly he just wants to convince himself that this isn’t some twisted fucking dream.

His eyes flare and he has to bring his hand to palm his erection when you start wriggling out of your clothes. He almost wishes you would stop, because he’s dreamt about peeling every layer off of your body himself, but he can’t quite bring himself to step towards you. His brain jump-starts back into action once you get down to your underwear, and he plants a knee on the mattress, a hand on your wrist when you hook your thumbs into the waistband of your underwear. He’s in a trance, eyes locked on the little bow in the centre of your panties.

He wants to put his mouth on you so badly.

“Zayne,” You whisper, it’s almost a moan, your soft thighs rubbing together as you squirm under his stare, like him just looking at you turns you on. The feeling is fucking mutual.

His thumb brushes the bow, his other hand dropping beside your waist. He can feel the heat of your skin, soaking into his bones, and he knows that he won’t come back from this. He thought that what you did on Friday night would be the end of him, but he was so wrong. This right here will obliterate him.

He sighs shakily, thumb running over your mound, his teeth sinking into his lower lip when he reaches the dampest part of your underwear. You’re soaked, all for him, so wet that he can smell the sweet, huskiness of your arousal, and he abandons all prior concerns about his control, dipping his head to press his nose directly into your wetness.

“Oh,” You murmur raggedly, wiggling your hips to try and get his nose to rub against you just right. He inhales you deeply, pondering in insanity that he may need to find a way to make a candle out of this scent, before he lifts his head a little, looking up at your face.

“You’re so beautiful,” His voice is unrecognisable, and he swallows in an effort to moisten his vocal chords enough to tell you all that he has kept bottled up. If he scares you off now, it’s no matter, it’s far too late for him, “I’ve fucked my hand so many times thinking of this, of you,”

You don’t say anything, but your thighs try to close around where he is currently seated between them. He runs his palms up your thighs, gratified beyond belief to see goosebumps following his path.

“I need to eat you out,” He says simply, eyes boring into yours, waiting for you to give him even the barest hint of consent. He needs to taste you on his tongue, needs to lick deeply inside you until you come again, until he's haunted by the feeling of your cunt clenching against his mouth. He’s out of his mind over the smell of you, the wetness that coats your pretty, white panties with the little bow that he’s sure will haunt him for the rest of his life. “Tell me I can, ___, please,”

“I’ve never…” You don’t need to finish, because he already knows. He witnessed you get soaked from just his kiss, watched enraptured as you came wetly over his fingers. He knows you’ve never had it and there’s a primal roar of satisfaction in his chest at the knowledge that he’s the first man to taste you.

“I know, beautiful. Do you want it? You don’t have to say yes,” He murmurs, even as he licks his lips. He wants to make this good for you, he meant that, and if he’s going to have the privilege of fucking you today, he needs you to be ready for him. He needs you soft and pliant and comfortable - the idea of causing you discomfort makes him want to keel over.

A swallow works down your delicate throat, and his eyes flare, another wicked idea flitting through his mind. If you let him, he will mark you up, he will lay his claim on you, no matter how much he might not deserve to.

“Yes, okay,” You say, brows knitting together. He doesn’t move, hands settling on your knees, pausing your movements as you part them for him.

“You’re frowning,”

A flush paints your cheeks, and you groan in frustration, head hitting the mattress as you stare up at the ceiling. You’re so fucking cute, he can hardly take it.

“I don’t know what - …like, what do I do?” You’re watching him, eyes wide and blown out, almost black. He can tell that you meant it when you said you wanted it, and he smiles softly at you, parting your legs with a palm on each thigh.

“Just lay back,” He says softly, “I’ll take care of you,”

The closer his face gets to your pussy, your face relaxes into a look of concentrated arousal. You’re watching his every movement, gasping quietly when he licks a trail up the wet patch on your panties. He keeps his eyes on you as he kisses you slowly, filthily through the material, taking it as slow as he can, his cock throbbing, angry and eager to be inside your tightness. He ignores it to the best of his ability, keeping his hips lifted off the bed - he doesn’t want to come too fast, but as soon as you moan, head thrown back, hands fisting his bedsheets, he slams his hips down into the softness of his bed. Desperate for friction, it’s near painful with how badly he needs to fuck, and he abandons all thought, pulling your panties to the side to suckle at your swollen clit.

“Oh my god, Zayne,” Your voice is reedy, whimpers breaking every word, and he groans into your pussy, hips punching into the bed.

Your thighs start shaking soon after, and you’re already close. He can feel the way you’re clenching when he dips his tongue inside you, relishing in the arch of your back, the way your hands fly up to grip your breasts. It’s such an erotic sight, Zayne can feel his cock twitching, he’s gonna come too soon, again, but he can’t help it. You turn him into this needy, helpless mess, and he’s coming with you within a few more seconds of your tight pussy squeezing his tongue, his body rocking into the bed, so hard he can hear it squeak a couple times along the carpet.

Next time, he thinks wildly, unhinged in his desire, he’s gonna eat your pussy with you on all fours, he’s gonna make you ride his face while he fucks his hand. He doesn’t care if you never touch his dick as long as he can spend the rest of his life with his face between your legs.

He pulls away from you after a few more licks, the stickiness of your arousal is a sweet syrup on his lips, and when he raises his body off the bed, he can only stare at you. Legs twitching, skin shined with sweat. He can feel his cock getting hard again, and he hasn’t even got his jeans off yet.

You’re opening your eyes then, a hazy gaze running from his flushed face to his panting chest, all the way down to the wet patch on the front of his jeans. You nibble at your lip at the sight, and - yeah, he’s hard again.

“Is it…,” You glance down at his crotch again, “Are we done now?”

He licks his lips, tasting you again, “Do you want us to be done?”

You’re shaking your head, sitting up on his bed. There’s a wet patch under your ass that he wants to lap at, and you wriggle away, further into the centre of the bed until you’re laying your head on his pillow. He lets himself think it now, pulls down the wall guarding him from the truth that he’s devastatingly in love with you. Seeing you laying on his bed in your underwear, fucked out, blushing and smiling as you wait for him to join you - it sends him into a tailspin.

A smarter man would realise he’s not good enough for you, that he doesn’t deserve something so heavenly. But Zayne isn’t very smart, it turns out, because he crawls onto the bed, caging you in with his arms and kissing you deeply. He lets you taste yourself, lets you taste the flavour of what he’s done to you, and you groan, tugging his black shirt out of his jeans.

He helps you as the two of you tackle his shirt, peeling it off of his shoulders, smiling against your lips when your hands immediately explore his skin, grabbing and digging your nails into his shoulder blades. He has to stand up to take off his jeans and his ruined underwear, his cock springing free, already hot and hard again. He watches as you assess him, your tongue wetting your lips has a bead of precum forming on the tip, even as his earlier orgasm already coats it.

You open your mouth as if to speak, but then you snap your lips shut. He can’t have that.

“What is it, ___? Tell me,”

“I want…” Your eyes fall to his dick again, “Can I taste you?”

He almost falls to the floor, all feeling gone in his legs thanks to the blood rushing directly to his cock. He wonders if you could make him come simply by speaking, by asking him questions in that innocently curious voice of yours.

It’s not a good idea, not with his track record with you, but he swallows hard, nodding and watching hungrily as you crawl across to him. He pauses you, desperate to see more, needing to see all of you, and unclips your bra, tossing it aside, forgotten. Your breasts sway before him, his hands reaching out with no hesitation, gripping them both as his cock bobs with another warning twitch. You watch it all with a heated look in your eye.

When you lean forward, letting your tongue flick out to taste the head, Zayne immediately buckles, pushing you back on the bed so you’re on your back. He climbs over you, a barely caged animal.

“You -” He groans when his cock brushes your underwear, “I cant - Maybe another time,”

“Did I do it wrong?” You frown.

He almost laughs, a pained wheezing sound bursting from his throat, “No, you’re - everything's perfect. You’re perfect- “ He’s babbling now, the desperation to be inside you taking over, as he rears up, tugging off your panties and dropping them at the bottom of the bed. A crazy parts of him wants to keep them as a memento of tonight.

He shakes above you, his arms trembling as his tip brushes your entrance, and he worries you might be nervous. He’s not small by any means; thick as well as a decent length, his cock isn’t gonna be easy for you to take for your first time, and so as a form of self-preservation and to help make sure you’re ready, he drops his head to take your soft nipple into his mouth, his fingers skimming your stomach to enter you in one thrust. You buck against him, whining, begging him to fuck you, and he growls, kissing up to your neck so he can suck a couple of marks into your skin.

“So fucking good for me- God, ____, you’re everything -”

“Zayne,” You tug on his hand, trying to pull his fingers free from inside you, “I need you. Please, please -”

He can’t resist you begging, he can’t help himself when you start mewling those words against his lips, your hands digging into his lower back. He positions himself at your wet heat, shuddering with each inch you accept him. You gasp when he thrusts a little too hard, but when he checks your face to make sure he didn’t hurt you, you’re watching him with a searingly needy expression. You want him, you tell him so with every clench of your walls around his cock, and so he lets his dick slide inside you all the way, his thighs already shaking.

He’s pathetic.

“Fuck, fuck - hgn - oh god, it’s so good, ___. So fucking good for me,” He begins a steady pace, slower than he needs, but it’s enough to have you arching into him, your pretty tits lifted to his waiting mouth, and he moans loudly, without abandon, as your hands reach up to flatten on the headboard. You’ve never done this, and yet he’s the one who feels like he’s never been fucked before. You’re rolling your hips, rocking up to take his cock, and he can feel his balls clenching with the need to come, “Tell me I can come - tell me - let me come, please, beautiful, I need to fuck my cum into this pussy,”

“Please,” You groan, “you can come. Please, I need it so bad -”

“Fuck,” He’s going to come, he’s reaching the point of no return and he’s barely been inside you ten seconds. He slides his hand between your bodies, rubbing at the hard little nub above where he’s sliding into you. You’re gripping him so tight he can barely speak. He’s dreamed of making you beg for his cock, of making you tell him how bad you need it, but in the end he’s the one begging you.

“Please, please, oh fuck, ___. I’m coming -” He grunts, “Say my name, fuck - hgn, please. Please say my name - I fucking love you. Say it for me -” His words break off into a moan as you come all over his cock, your body clenching, eyes rolling back. You’re chanting his name, calling it into the empty room, making his fucking life.

He follows you with several jagged, deep thrusts, fucking you up the bed until your head reaches the headboard. He has a few brain cells left to place his hand between you and the wooden surface, and then he allows himself a couple more rough rolls of his hips that have you shaking.

The silence afterwards is broken only by your breaths. Zayne’s head is on your chest, listening to the way your heart hammers beneath him. He can’t move, his legs have lost all feeling and he enjoys the way you run your fingers through his hair. He nuzzles into your sweaty skin and glances up at you. You’re smiling, glowing like you do in his dreams, and he almost wants to pinch himself.

He raises himself up onto his forearms, just about managing to make his legs work enough to hover over you, his lips pressed to yours. He whispers how much he loves you, how long he’s loved you, and you don’t say it back yet, but you kiss him deeply. He relishes in this sweet moment, a whole new beginning, and for the first time when it comes to you, he’s not scared.

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

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synnamonroll666 · 5 months ago

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You Are Still Human

𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐

Pairing: Wendigo!Josh Washington x Fem!Reader Description: Josh breaks down over the fact that he cannot live a normal life since his possession and no longer believes that he is truly human. So you find a special way to remind him of his humanity... Warnings: 18+, Smut, Fluff, Angst, Mental Breakdown, Insecurities, P In V, Creampie, Slight Choking, Rough Smut Animalistic Smut, Mention Of Breeding, No Foreplay Or Prep, Pain Kink-ish??? (Let me know if I missed any!) Word Count: 3.2k A/N: So I finally got this done! I didn't expect it to end up this long but as you can see, things got out of hand FAST. 😂 I hope you guys enjoy it! 🖤 Josh Washington Masterlist: 🖤 Taglist: @nuggetsandmoose, @maquillagebookmark, @wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee28374728, @bee-who-isnt-french

𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐

My tired feet slowly shuffle across the hardwood floor as I push myself through the front door of our shared home. I am exhausted after several errands that I had to run today, to say the least. But that's the price I have to pay for pushing them off until right at last minute. Though it wasn't exactly the extra work I had to do that pushed my mind and body to feel so worn out. My loving boyfriend decided to join me, which was a rare occurrence for him.

Ever since the... Incident... He hasn't wanted to go out into the world much. I understand his anxiety of being seen in public with his condition so I never push, but today he insisted on joining me on my mission to finish my to-do list. Perhaps he felt bad that all these burdens were placed on my shoulders with his lack of want to leave the house.

But unfortunately, a face mask to cover up his ripped cheek and sharpened canines was just not enough to cover what he has become. Recovery for Josh was long and hard and we had only just began talking about the possibility of cosmetic surgery. It was a long process before we could even begin worrying about such things.

After leaving the mountain, the spirit of the wendigo left him, not being able to leave where it is bound. But still, traces of an animal-like presence lingered in his behaviors and personality. We didn't know if restoring his humanity was possible, but the doctors were able to recover just enough to get him to a point of leaving the hospital to live a normal life. Though even then, I had to beg to convince them to let me take him home with me.

His parents were hesitant on letting me take care of him, but after some negotiating, they bought a secluded cabin in a swallow forest, just deep enough to give us privacy but not too deep that I would be trapped if I needed to get away. Josh's humanity was indeed resorted, but the primal animal was still within.

And that's where we are now. Josh has an odd habit of forgetting how to act "human" sometimes. Every once in awhile he will stare at someone random and growl lowly, or even nip at the air as though his need to feed was getting too intense. It was worrisome, to say the least. Sometimes I would stay up at night, fearing the one thing that I always worried was inevitable—that Josh would lose control once more.

Though time and time again, he would prove me wrong with a loving and warm cuddle at the end of the day. But sadly, tonight will not be so sweet. I can tell by the way Josh trudges into the living room, his head hung low and shoulders slumped. He wants to be left alone.

Though I understand this, I don't want to leave him with his thoughts again. Bad things happen when Josh is left alone with his thoughts. So I approach the doorway of the living room, leaning against the frame as I watch his tired form from afar. He seems defeated by the way he sat slouched against the soft cushions of our couch.

Slowly, I make my way to him step by step and sit on the couch, my eyes watching him to read his body language. He does not react to my presence, instead staring out into a void of nothingness like his mind is elsewhere. I reach over to the small end table by my side and pull its drawer open, only to retrieve a small, red bag.

I set it on my lap and then turn back to Josh, carefully taking on of his large hands in my own. They have grown a tiny bit since his possession, by an inch for each finger at least. Every part of his body has grown a bit since then. Sometimes it could feel a little intimidating. I run my thumb over the fragile, pale skin on the back of his hand before releasing a tired sigh.

"Your nails are getting long again, sweetheart. Shall I trim them for you?" I ask while reaching for the bag in my lap with my free hand, pulling the zipper to the side to reveal a bunch of nail care tools.

He does not respond verbally, but let's out a huff to let me know that he is fine with it. So with that, I begin my work, trimming and filing away at the sharp and jagged claws. It takes what feels like an hour to get them finished and looking nearly human again. In this time, Josh doesn't move a bit. He is so still, it's hard to tell he is even breathing. But once I finish and go to move my hands away from his, his boney fingers clasp my own.

"Thank... You..." He whispers faintly, his voice coarse and almost ghostly. Life glimmers in his eyes for a brief moment as his light irises study his hands.

But then, after a minute of admiring my work, he stands from his spot on the couch. He begins to pace around the coffee table in the center of the room, as if his mind is wandering, pondering something intense. I watch him for a few moments as he silently walks, feet shuffling along the carpet. But then, he mutters something...

"It's not enough..."

I almost do not catch it, until he repeats the words in a volume just slightly higher than before. But before I know it, Josh is pacing more frantically, whispering the sentence over and over. An eerie dread falls over my body as I watch him, his movements growing more panicked. He seems frightened and enraged, and those feelings seem to grow until he finally snaps, flipping over the coffee table in one swoop of his arms.

"I'm sick of this fucking shit!" He screams in a voice that sounds more like a howl from a wounded animal than anything else. "I'm so sick of being a fucking monster! I'm so fucking sick of people looking at me like one—like I shouldn't be with you or like I'm going to hurt you! I just want to be human again!"

I am stunned, sitting still as ever as if I'm afraid to move. That is until he breaks down, falling to his knees as he let's out a mournful sob. It's as if his spirit has been beaten down to the point of no return by this curse, every day stares, and the pressure of trying to be what he once was. Within a second, I am by his side on the floor, pulling him close to me and embracing him tightly.

"You're not a monster." I whisper sweetly as I caress his thinned out hair, just one more thing he has had to be insecure about since becoming human again. But it never lost its silky texture, which was what I had always loved the most about it.

He shakes his head and whimpers faintly, "I'm just a monster..."

I think for a moment. Usually it's pretty hard to break someone out of this mindset, especially Josh. He has a stubborn way of thinking, which makes it hard to convince him otherwise on a lot of subjects. I continue to pet his hair and think of back when he was human, how much he loved to show me just how much he loved me every day. Of course, a lot of times it would be through physical acts— And finally, it hits me. I know what will break him out of these self-abusive thoughts.

"I want you to prove to me that you're not a monster." I order firmly, which is enough for him to finally raise his head from where it is tucked in my shoulder and look up at me.

"W-What?" He queries just barely above a whisper—just barely enough for me to hear his quivering voice.

I gently caress his cheek, brushing my fingers over his deep scars as I clarify. "Prove to me that you aren't a monster. I know you can. Prove to me that you can feel all the emotions that a normal person can feel, and make me feel them as well in return."

He stares at me for a moment, eyes clearly uncertain about my rather intimate proposition. I can practically see the internal battle going on inside his mind through those glazed over pupils in the center of his white irises. Then, he let's out a shaky breath before biting his lip subtly—a risky habit he still carries from being human, but has to be more cautious doing now with his sharpened teeth.

"I... I don't want to hurt you..." He whimpers like a hurt puppy, glancing back down at his fidgeting fingers.

"You won't," I say as I place my hands on his cheeks, forcing his gaze back to me so he can see my sincerity. "I know you..."

He adverts his eyes once more, only this time looking down at the growing bulge under the rough fabric of his jeans—something I had failed to notice before. Josh had grown so backwards since his turning—so backwards that we haven't had sex since prior to it. I know it is killing him, especially since he was always the horniest guy I knew before this happened.

To make things easier for him, I place my hand on his thigh, resting right beside his needy member. He swallows thickly as he visibly shivers, a thin layer of sweat already coating his skin as his temperature rises. It is a subtle action to test the waters and when I'm sure he is comfortable, my hand goes right to the spot I know he desires so much.

But as soon as my hand cups the twitching length through his pants, something changes. A soft growl is heard rumbling at the back of his throat, and when my eyes flick back up, I am met with a hungry and what looks to be primal gaze. His eyes are no longer soft and sorrowful, but hold something almost animalistic within them.

Before I can say anything, Josh scoops me up and throws me down on the couch, knocking a startled gasp to fly out from me that seems to fall on deaf ears. He is quick to cage me between his arms, and lower his body weight down over top of me to encase me in his grasp, like a predator sealing his prey's fate.

No words are spoken, just the sounds of his ragged breaths and rabid growls fill the air. His body temperature has risen even higher than I have ever felt from him, and as he presses his chest against mine to keep me locked in place, I can feel his racing heartbeat vibrating through his chest as well. It amazes me that he hasn't had a heart attack yet.

But still, it seems as if something is stopping him in place. A lost, uncertain, question glimmers in his orbs as though he is waiting for an answer. Though he is silent, I know what he is asking—the final thing he needs to take things to the next level.

"Go ahead, Josh. I'm ready." I breath faintly, giving him the permission he seeks.

As if from a movie, he tears our clothes off at a supernatural speed. I lay there, naked and dumbfounded as I look at the shreds of clothing that fell all around us, surrounding us like some sort of makeshift nest. I can't help but wonder how in the hell he managed to do that after I just clipped and filed his claws down, but I don't have much time to answer.

A shriek of shock, pain, and pleasure tears from my throat as I feel the familiar sting of something long and hard entering my canal, though this time in a more rough and fast way. Josh was always one for foreplay, but I guess there isn't time for that now, as he is already buried deep within me to the brim within just a split second.

His eyes hold a bit of remorse for only a mere moment, until that hunger returns. I barely have time to breathe as he retracts and enters at a pace I have never seen from him before. His hips pound furiously into mine, a subtle ache setting into my joints almost in an instant as he does his work. His grip on my waist is enough to burst my organs, while his dull nails cut into my flesh, crimson liquid forming under them more and more with each flex of his fingers. If I hadn't have cut his nails before this, I'd be done for. But I feel like Josh would know to be more careful if there was an actual hazard.

The intensity of his tip hitting my g-spot over and over at a brutal force feels to be enough to actually bruise it. Josh was always so good at finding it but this is a whole new level. I push my head back against the cushions as a cry of painful ecstasy parts my lips. Gripping the edges of the cushions and ripped strands of clothing in my fists, I begin to squirm out of pure instinct. Of course, Josh doesn't like this very much. Before I know it, a tight hand is wrapped firmly around my neck, but not enough to actually hurt me. This shows me that deep down, Josh still has some control.

He pounds into me in a sloppy and rough rhythm, determined like an animal desperate to breed. Grunts, groans, and growls that sound less than human are all that are heard from him. I would be concerned if my mind was clear enough to pay attention. No, right now, all my senses were overwhelmed by Josh, cutting off my awareness of the world around us like a sweet death. I am out of my own body now, my soul flying high in the clouds of heaven.

To my surprise, he pulls out. A soft exhale escapes me has he let's go of my throat, but that's only to quickly flip me over so he can now get in from the back. As soon as he shoves his length back inside, he's moving at a pace yet again unimaginable while his claws grip my hips firmly. He is almost pulling me back onto his cock at times, so my hips can meet his own has he thrusts into me. It's so animalistic and natural and it feels so right. And by the feeling of it, it's just enough to satisfy Josh completely.

With a roaring howl, Josh finally finds the release he has been chasing for so long. His speed and strength increases as he comes undone within me, and he fills me to the brim as if he wants to claim me... Or maybe even breed me. It is all too much for me to bear. The sensation of his heavy load spraying into my sweet spot is enough to send me flying over the edge. I bury my face into the cushion as a shuddering moan falls from my lips, before my voice strains away to nothing. My whole body trembles as I practically melt beneath him, and my walls squeeze and quiver around his cock as though I'm practically begging for more.

Though soon that psychical need gives away into exhaustion as soon as my tense muscles relax once my high subsides, my body falling limp like I no longer can control it. I'm just a doll now, all at the mercy of the man who gives me life. He may think that because I help him to heal, I am his savior. But he couldn't be more wrong. Without Joshua, I would be in a darker place, drowning in my trauma of that night. But now, I have him. And in this moment of silence where nothingness hangs in the air, that thought enters my brain. A small smile curls the corners of my lips while I close my eyes, feeling peace as I soak up his warmth while his hot breath fans my shoulder.

He removes himself from me, both of us letting out a trembling whimper, the overestimation stinging our most sensitive areas momentarily. He does not waste a single breath on words, instead leaning down to capture my lips with his. He is careful—careful to not cut me with his long canines, but also holding a tenderness he used to show before all of this. He knows that I am at my most vulnerable at this time, and will take the most caution to not break me at my fine glass-like state. When he pulls away, he gazes upon me with tear-filled and passionate eyes, his orbs reflecting what seems to be gratefulness and love.

"That wasn't the wendigo in me..." He breathes faintly while raising a hand to caress my cheek in a way so tender that I feel as if I could cry. Though I raise a questioning brow at that statement, not knowing what he means. So he elaborates after taking another second to breathe, still worn out by our recent activities. "I just needed you that badly... So I guess that was the human in me, huh?"

I smile at that and nod, admiring how he blushes at what he admits. For someone who used to be so ballsy and open with his dirty thoughts, Josh could be pretty backwards at times. It was something I always adored so much about him. I run my fingers through his raven, disheveled hair while taking in his stunning features, a soft sigh leaving me before I whisper. "You can have me whenever you like, Josh."

Josh smiles and presses his lips to mine once more, and then lays his head on my chest. I watch him intently, taking note of how he smiles when he hears my heartbeat quicken ever so slightly at the sight of him on top of me. He gently rubs my sides, soon stopping to snuggle into my breasts, seemingly deciding that this nest of our torn clothing would be our bed for the night.

Josh always reminded me of a Great Dane in a way. Despite being a lot bigger than me, there was always enough space on top of me for cuddles in his eyes. It was always quite amusing to me each time his large form would envelope my own. I continue to pet his hair, soft strands threading through my fingers with each touch. He let's out a huff in contentment and kisses my left breast, the sensation of his lips on my skin being absorbed through my flesh and meeting my heart to caress it with the love he feels for me.

"Thank you..." He murmurs, his voice dropping an octave lower and coming out more like a purr due to his exhaustion. My eyes focus on him as he closes his eyes, taking one more deep breath and then continuing his sentence a mere second before he falls into a peaceful slumber on top of me. "For everything..."

𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐

#until dawn #until dawn josh #josh washington #josh washington x reader #josh washington smut #wendigo!josh washington #synnamonsspicyfics

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geeky-politics-46 · 2 months ago

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Surgery Headcanon

How would my favorite Marvel men react to you having surgery.

I'm getting my gallbladder taken out in a couple of weeks, it will be my first surgery ever, so this is 100% self-indulgent. That's part of why I've been so absent this year, I've had an organ rebelling.

Doctor Stephen Strange

Will ask who your doctor is to see if he knows them. If not, he may send a referral to a trusted former colleague on your behalf. He's not letting you under the knife unless he knows you have a good surgeon.

Will tell you how routine the surgery is if you are starting to worry. Almost a bit blasé about your concerns, after all, bedside manner was never his strong suit as a surgeon. Plus, it really is a routine, laparoscopic procedure. Way less intricate & dangerous than neurosurgery.

1000% will try to micromanage everything once you're at the hospital prepping for or immediately out of surgery. He wants to see your chart. He wants to know what your most recent vitals are. Hell, he may have even asked if he can observe the surgery. Partly, it's him being overprotective, partly it's because he misses being a doctor.

Definitely breaking into the doctor's lounge for the good coffee, not the instant crap in the cafeteria.

After you are home, he will be vigilant about making sure you take your pain meds & will check your incisions to make sure everything is healing well. You are in very safe, if slightly neurotic hands.

Secretly, or not so secretly, enjoying getting to play doctor again to take care of you. Looking forward to when you are well enough that you can play doctor and patient the really fun way.

Bucky Barnes

May actually be a bigger mess than you are. Thanks to Hydra, medical anything makes his anxiety shoot through the roof. Now piled on top of that, he feels out of control & helpless to make you feel better.

Would have to be physically dragged out of your hospital room, so the hospital staff just lets the whole “visitors hours” thing slide.

The second you wake up, he is by your side asking if you need anything. Probably didn't sleep or even sit down the entire time you were in surgery.

If you even make an odd face, he's asking if you are in pain, and he has become a huge pain in the ass for your nurses.

May have thought about threatening your surgeon about if something went wrong.

Either guard dog mode, or he completely shuts down. There is no in between.

Afraid he's going to break you while you are recovering. Offers to sleep on the floor or on the couch just in case. Doesn't want to let you out of his sight until you are healed.

Steve Rogers

Tells you over and over how everything will be okay and that you are in good hands.

May tell you stories about how much hospitals and medical stuff has improved since he was so sick before the serum.

Reads up on your surgery and your doctors. He wants to understand as much as he can about what is going on. He probably has more questions for the doctor than you do.

Puts on a brave face for you but secretly will be a little nervous. He hates seeing you sick or in pain, and he can't help but worry a little bit.

Will respect hospital rules but will stay up until the very last minute of visiting hours are over. Knows the names of every nurse and doctor treating you.

Definitely has flowers or a stuffed bear for you as soon as you wake up from surgery.

Dotes on your every need once you are home and watches you like a hawk. The first few days, he doesn't even let you go to the bathroom by yourself. You can't get away with shortcutting your recovery under his eye.

Sam Wilson

Buys you a cute, silly stuffed version of whatever you are having surgery on to make you laugh. See my new stuffed sad gallbladder plush as reference here.

All the nurses love him, and he likes to crack jokes with all the staff. Offers to help with anything he can but mostly tries to stay out of their way.

Trying to make you smile all the way until they wheel you to the OR. He doesn't want you to be scared or nervous.

Like Steve, he will put on a brave face but will be nervous once you are in surgery. Lots of pacing back & forth. Lots of trips to the coffee machine.

Takes care of you once you are home but not quite as mother hen as Steve. Will let you judge what is best for you, but will 100% call you out if he sees you doing something the doctor told you not to.

Will also rat you out to your doctor if you don’t follow their instructions. He doesn't want to snitch, but he'd also rather not be the one to scold you.

Loki

Doesn't like the idea of someone operating on you. Trained surgeon or not, they are still just a simple Midgardian.

Doesn't like the hospital one bit. Comments on the color and decor, even the hideous hospital gown you have to wear. Partly to make you laugh, partly because it was all truly hideous.

If your surgeon even hesitates on a question you ask, Loki will assume they aren't the best and demand another doctor. You may have to talk him down a bit. He's a prince, after all, and he wants to make sure you are in the best hands possible.

The whole thing seems a bit barbaric to him. He would much have preferred using magic or Asgardian ways to heal you, but alas when on Midgard.

Secretly terrified something will happen to you, but would never tell you he's worried. Doesn't like that he can't do anything to help you.

Is not very used to taking care of people, and as royalty, he's the one used to being waited on, but he will try his best to do whatever you need him to do.

Will probably mostly ignore instructions from the doctor so you are in charge of that part of your care, but he will beg to accelerate your healing with his magic if he can.

Eddie Brock & Venom

Venom brings you chocolates, which he then eats after you tell him he can, and says not to worry because if the doctors don't take proper care of you he will bite off their heads and eat their brains.

Eddie is nervous but trying to be brave, so you won't be scared. It doesn't help that Venom keeps telling Eddie not to make you nervous, which then, in turn, makes him nervous. He will try to make jokes and keep you entertained however he can.

Eddie and Venom try not to argue while they wait for you to get done with surgery. The last thing you need is to wake up and find out that they ended up in the psych ward for talking to/arguing with themselves in the waiting room. They are on their best behavior.

Both of them try to wait on you hand and foot after you get home. You've had to eat several well-meaning but truly gross breakfasts in bed so as not to disappoint either of them. They mean so well, but neither of them can cook beyond tater tots.

You have woken up to Venom staring at you because “one of us has to watch you at all times until you are recovered”. He took that 100% seriously. He has also stuck tendrils under the bathroom door like cat paws.

One great thing about Venom is the fact that thanks to his tendrils, he can literally get anything you need from around the apartment in seconds without you or Eddie having to get up. This makes him one of the best nurses ever. All you have to do is hint that you want something and boom, it's there.

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venusalexian · 4 days ago

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solet • let me do this for you

part 1

barça femení x teen!reader, alexia putellas x teen!reader

in which you finally let someone in, and Alexia accepts that she’ll be having a bigger role in your life than she first expected

Ale had driven you to the grounds this morning, as she tends to do now if she has a free day when you have a game. You were so excited for this game. Your grandpa had recuperated well from his surgery, even if he now needed some extra care, and Ale’s presence in your life had become a constant. You couldn’t believe this was your life now.

You went into the game eager to win, to score, to lead. By half time, you had scored once and provided an assist. You were on fire, but everything changed when you stepped into the tunnel and Ale was waiting for you, a worried frown in her face.

“Solet, I need you to stay calm while I tell you this, okay?.” She said. “Your neighbor called, they’ve had to take your grandma into the hospital because she fainted. They firmly believe she’s going to be okay. I will drive you to the hospital right now if that’s what you want.” You can’t believe she’s even doubting it. There is no way you’re making it back out into the pitch now.

“Please Ale, let’s go.” You rush to the locker room to get your things and run all the way to Ale’s car, impatient.

“It’s all gonna be okay, I promise.” Ale says as she lays her free hand on your arm, the other on the steering wheel.

You really want to believe her, but you don’t really think she has the ability to fulfill this one. You don’t respond. You just lay your head against the window and let its coldness ground you to reality.

As soon as you get to the waiting room you make a beeline for your grandfather, who sits in a corner. He’s recuperated from his surgery, but he still can’t stand for long periods of time and needs help remembering to take his meds. You break down as soon as you’re in his arms.

”Oh, mi niña, everything’s gonna be okay. She was awake when they got her into the ambulance. It was just a big scare, but she’s going to be okay.”

You nod against his chest but don’t detach from his hold. You won’t believe it until you see her with your own eyes and doctors confirm it, but you appreciate the comfort of his words. You turn a bit to look to your left. Ale is talking with your neighbor. She has her capitana face on. That relaxes you further.

You hate how unhelpful you’re being. You should be more composed, asking questions, making sure your grandpa is also okay, planning for any contingencies that might come from this incident. But you can only cling, and cry, like a child. So you’re happy to see that Ale has taken control of the situation, because at least somebody has. You’ve been trusting her with more of yourself and your life over the past months, and you’re so, so glad about it now. She looks over at you, and you know she understands what it means to you. The guilt of your impotence stays, but the pressure eases and you let yourself just fall.

Alexia is looking at you and seeing a kid. A strong, resilient kid. But a kid. So she takes charge, and she accepts that caring for you is coming more naturally to her every day. And as she waits with you for news about your grandma, she gradually also accepts the role she wants to play in your life. More than she’d let herself in the past, more than she’s ever said out loud.

“So… Why are the kids talking about you adopting another kid?” Marta approached Alexia with a massive smirk at the end of training.

“Yeah Ale, I thought you’d at least talk to me before you got a kid outside of this team.” Oh, Irene was having too much fun with this conversation.

“First of all, there is no another, I don’t have any kids, period.” A chorus of ‘hey’ and ‘rude’ was heard from the other side of the room, most notably (and loudest) by Vicky and Jana. Alexia just rolled her eyes. Apparently, the whole team was a part of the conversation now. “And secondly, I have not adopted a kid. I’m just… mentoring.”

“Mentoring? Is that what they call it now? Mentoring is driving a kid to and from practice?” Jana continued teasing her.

Alexia had gotten into the habit of driving you when she could especially to and from late night practices, thinking that it was much too late for you to be out taking public transportation.

“Or staying to watch those practices?” followed Sydney, who’s joking character was coming more and more out as she became more comfortable with the first team.

Now, Alexia knew how to perfectly justify this one.

“I am captain of this team, I have a duty to check in with the B team and source for talent.” she answered, feeling smug.

“Oh, and is having Sunday lunch with her and her family a form of recruitment?” added Vicky, who had become closer with the teen and had taken to chatting with her on occasion.

Alexia actually didn’t know how to respond to this one. She had taken your grandmother’s invitation a couple of time when you had Sunday morning games and she had a free weekend. She loved getting to know you more by spending time with you and your grandparents. And although she thought you pressured yourself too much, she saw herself reflected in your protectiveness, diligence and sense of responsibility toward your family and team.

“Better yet. Why did your girlfriend text me asking if I could give her more information about the kid because she wants to make a good impression when you bring her over for Sunday dinner at your mom’s this weekend?” added Ingrid.

Alexia muttered “traitor” as the locking room erupted in chaos. Everyone knows how much it means for their protective and family-oriented captain to introduce people to her family.

“Okay, enough. I care about her, yes. And she doesn’t have too many people on her corner, so I decided to become one.”

Everyone softened at that, understanding the importance and vulnerability of the statement.

“Now, no more social chit-chat about my life or you’re all running three times as much before practice.”

The soft expressions were replaced with groans, complaints and the occasional soft object thrown at her. Oh how she loves her fútbol family.

Your neighbor has had to leave; she has her own family to care for. So it’s just you, your grandpa, and Ale. Each sitting on a seat to your side. The doctor comes out after a half hour of waiting. The good news is that she’s okay, she’s awake, and there is nothing life-threatening. It feels like a toll has been lifted off your shoulders. But then he continues: it was a big fall, a symptom of an underlying heart condition. It means more medication and the possibility for this to happen again or other bad things. You feel dizzy again. You only hear bits and pieces of the rest: needs more monitorization, will need more constant care for a couple of weeks, she’s gonna stay overnight, you’ll be able to see her soon. You cling to the last part to stay in touch with reality.

Ale sees you drowning, so she asks, “Do you trust me to help, to take over now and help you through this? Let me do this for you?”

You nod. You need her to. You don’t even have any space in your worrying to overthink what this means or why she’s willing to do all this for you. You need her now, and the rest will come when everything’s more calm.

“I’m gonna make a few calls, okay? Can I tell a couple of people what is going on? The girls, mami and Olga are all worried. I won’t say much, just a quick update, okay?”

You nod again. You haven’t uttered a word since you got into Ale’s car. You can’t. So when she nods back, you hide your face in your grandpa’s chest again. You try to distract yourself with happier memories until you can see your grandma again. Thinking of her still hurts, so you focus on your team, your friends, and the people in Ale’s life you’ve met in the past weeks.

You felt dizzy from anticipation. You kept bouncing your leg in the passenger seat, and checking your outfit on the rear-view mirror. Ale noticed your fidgeting and laid her free hand on your shoulder.

“Are you nervous?” her eyes didn’t stray from the road but you noticed her half-grimace. Ale is not the best at not asking obvious questions, but you know it’s because she doesn’t know how to start the conversation otherwise.

“Yeah, I just…” you also grimaced, feeling like a little kid. “I want them to like me.” you mumbled, embarrassed.

“Oh, solet. They will. Mami is a natural caretaker, she’ll take you under her wing immediately. And Alba and Olga will just love having one more person to team up with against me.” Ale rolled her eyes, fondly.

She exudes a different type of softness when she talks about the women in her life, even when she fakes being annoyed at their antics. Her response calmed you, though.

Ale was absolutely right, of course.

As soon as you entered Ale’s home, her mom was giving you a massive hug and when she pulled away, she told you how beautiful you are and that she was really excited to meet you. You were blushing again. She hugged her daughter next, and then motioned for you both to go to the living room while she finished cooking. You offered to help, and you were rewarded with a wide smile and a pinch to your cheek. Ale got a quip that “she ought to keep her instead of her daughters if she keeps this helpfulness up”.

You’re still flushed when you reached the living room with Ale to find her sister and girlfriend sitting at the table in conversation. They stood up when you entered the room. Her sister moved to you, hugged you and introduced herself. You opened your mouth to do the same but she interrupted before you could utter a word.

“Oh, I know who you are. Ale won’t shut up about you.” You both turned to her, but she was too busy kissing her girlfriend to notice. Alba covered your eyes and shouted. “Women, not in front of the kid!”

You smiled as Alba moved away her hand and smiled back at you, all nerves forgotten by now, replaced by warmth. Ale and Olga were walking towards you both now, Ale’s hand on the small of her back. Olga hugged you, and her smile was just as warm and soft as Ale’s.

“Yeah, Ale hasn’t shut up about you. We’re all really excited to meet her mini-me.” And there you were, blushing again. Had Ale really referred to you like that? Before you could ask, Ale’s mom called the four of you to finishing setting up as dinner was ready.

Conversation during dinner flowed. Ale was right, you had nothing to worry about and the night went perfectly. They all asked about you, eager to get to know you better. Alba and Olga did use your presence to rile Ale up. They shared embarrassing stories as she blushed and covered her face.

“I’ll lose my tough captain facade, stop.”

“You never had one to begin with, Ale”

By the time dinner ends, you couldn’t even believe you had been so nervous to meet them. Ale and Olga offered to drive you home. As you and Olga waited for Ale to finalize some arrangement with her mom, she put her arm around you, as the night had unexpectedly cooled and neither of you had come dressed for it. You basked in the comfort of her warmth and touch.

“I’m so glad Ale brough you over.” You looked up to the older woman, her smile exactly like Ale’s. “She is right, you know? You’re such a solet. I’m so glad you have each other.” Before you could respond, Ale was ushering you both inside the car and the motion of the road and the fullness from dinner lulled you to sleep. You miss their smile at your sleeping form, and their unspoken understanding of their care for you.

By the time Alexia finishes texting and calling, she has a plan. Alexia does well with plans, likes to prepare for things. But she has to talk to your grandparents first, and she doesn’t know how that conversation is going to go. Alexia is also quick on her feet, though, and works with what’s given. Knows how to fight for what she thinks is right.

It doesn't take long for a nurse to come by and lead the three of you to your grandma’s room. You cry again when you see she’s okay. You can’t cling to her like you did with your grandpa, so you’re content to sit by her side and hold her hand while she asks questions about the game, and you do your best to respond to her. Your words are stilted, but Ale and your grandpa smile because it’s the most you’ve spoken in hours.

After some more assurances, your grandma convinces you to go down to the cafeteria with your grandpa to have dinner. You’re hesitant to comply, but both her and Ale reassure you and don’t accept no for an answer. You give them one last glance to reassure yourself everything is okay befor eyou leave the room.

Alexia is nervous to be left alone with your grandma. She needs to start the conversation she knows is coming and despite the encouragement from her family, she isn’t sure to be ready for it. She doesn’t have to be, though, because your grandma beats her to it.

“She needs you.” There’s a heavy silence that follows; Alexia doesn’t know how to respond.

“She needs you because she’s a kid but doesn’t accept it. We both know that this incident means that both I and my husband need more help than she should be burdened by. She’s stretched thin enough, she already does too much. We want her to have fun, be a kid, a student, a footballer. Not a nurse, or a caretaker. She can’t do that if she’s constantly worried about us. And I know you know all this.”

Alexia stands seriously and silently and measures her words before speaking. She knows what’s next, but this is not her family, she doesn’t want to overstep. But if directly asked for her input, she’ll do it. She’ll take care of everything. For you.

“I do, yeah.”

“We need that kind of help but it can’t come from her. So will you help? I’ve seen you grow closer to her, she admires you so much, relishes your attention and care. If we ask you for it, if she agrees, are you ready for this?”

Alexia doesn’t hesitate.

“Yes.”

She can see the tension leave your grandma.

“Good. Now we can talk specifics. What’s your plan? Tell me and then we can tell her together.”

In the morning after you, Ale and your grandpa went home to sleep –Ale taking the couch even if you insisted on her taking the bed–, it’s Ale also who drives back to the hospital and brings your grandma home when she’s released. All four of you sit in the living room and when you try to fuss over your grandma, all three of them reassure you she’s okay.

“Mi vida, we have something to discuss.” Your grandma starts, and you squirm, uncomfortable at being out of loop.

“Alexia and us have a proposal for you, mi niña. We’ll do only what you want us to, but we think this is the best for all of us, and especially you.” You don’t respond to your grandpa, just nod, the anticipation driving you crazy. Your grandma takes over the conversation again.

“We love you so much, mi vida. We love how kind you are, how responsible, and how much you care for us. But your grandpa and I need more help, and we want you to not be burdened by it.” You’re about to protest –they’re not a burden, would never be, you love them and you’ll always care for them–but Ale stops you.

“Ssh, solet, listen to what we have to say first, okay?” You nod again instead of responding.

“So remember when I made a few calls yesterday at the hospital? I set up a couple of things. First, there is a home-care medical team that will be taking care of your grandparents from now on. They’re the best, but we still get to pick who’s going to be coming to stay with them for continued care. You’ll be part of that decision too.”

You exhale, thankful that Ale took over arranging this service. Deep down, you know that even if you would have tried your hardest, your grandparents need specialized care you wouldn’t be able to provide.

“And we also thought something else, but we’ll only do this if you want to and completely at your pace.” You become uneasy again at their own nervous expressions.

“Mi vida, we’ve thought that you spend so much time moving from here to the city, and it’s not benefitting you in your studies, or your football career, so Alexia kindly offered an arrangement that we think will work for all of us.”

“Solet, I’d like it if you moved in with me.” There is nothing but shock in your expression now. You have no idea how to respond, this being the last thing you expected from this conversation.

“We were thinking you could stay with me over the week, so you can go to a school that is more understanding of your football career, like many of your teammates, and be closer to the training grounds. You’ll come back to stay over weekends with your grandparents, so you’ll still see them a lot. And you can obvious tell me anytime you wanna be with them, and we’ll make it work so you never feel detached.”

You stop her nervous rambling with an obvious question, still in shock.

“You really want me to move in with you? Are you sure?”

Her smile is so, so soft again. Her eyes so kind, but also somewhat exasperated, she can’t believe you don’t understand how much she cares for you yet.

“Yes, solet. And before you ask. Yes, I’ve talked to Olga, she also thinks this is good. She’s in and out of the house these days because of work in Madrid so she thinks this is actually good for us both, apparently I don’t struck her as someone who lives well alone.” She rolls her eyes when she shares that part, but she’s still smiling.

“And, avis, you think this is best for all of us? Because I’ll still miss you a lot, but you’re right that I’ve been struggling these days.”–you finally admit–“And I guess if there’s a professional caring for you here and I can call you anytime and come often, then, I guess, it seems like a good solution to me too.”

All three of them smile widely at you, glad that you see the same things they do.

“Yes, mi niña, we do. And this is always your home, you can be here as much as you want to.”

“Okay” You say, and it feels definitive, the start of something.

—

an:

so here’s the second part of solet! it took me a bit longer than expected but I wanted to do a good job at setting everything up and it made it longer than i initially expected.

this is the end of setting up the arc, and stories from now on will be just instances of solet’s life :)

I already have some ideas drafted, but I’m super eager to get requests and asks about this world of what kind of things you’d like to see from solet’s life.

thank you for reading!

xoxo, a.c.

#barcelona femeni x reader #barca femeni x teen!reader #alexia putellas x teen!reader #alexia putellas x reader #alexia x reader #barca femeni x reader #woso imagine #woso x reader #teen!reader

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jjkilll · 8 months ago

Text

-—✫UNTIL THE END OF TIME | JJK✫—-

warning: this is completely fictional. this story details personal injuries infilicted upon a main charater. reader discretion is advised. please read all warnings before proceeding. 18+

— pairing | ex-fiancé/idol jungkook x y/n

— summary | six months after you two broke up, you realized life's too short to not hold each other until the end of time.

— warning | personal injury (car accident), mentions of blood and surgery, a coma brought on by personal injury, mentions and the planning of marriage, pwp (big time), smut, reader giving jk a handjob, cum eating(?), spit(?), ass slapping (jk can't control himself)

— word count | 3.9K

— song | until the end of time - justin timberlake (this is gonna ruin the tour)

— a/n: flashback in bold, enjoy!!

——-—-—-—-✫-—--—-—-——

your phone rings waking you quickly. you at up answering your phone. “i’m sorry to wake you, is this y/n l/n?” a man asks through the phone. “yes, is there something wrong?” you ask eyes barely open.

“unfortunately, yes. i’m dr. hill, your fiancée has been in an accident. will you come down and provide some extra information for me?” he asks sincerely.

“what?! is he okay? is he awake?” you sit up. “um, i think it’s best if i share this news in person.” your heart drops.

you stand quickly throwing on some clothes. “i’m coming. i’m on the way.”

you and jungkook had been broken up for six months. you broke off your engagement. he really didn’t want you to go.

——-—-—-—-✫-—--—-—-——

you asked him to go with you to ask your friend to be in your wedding. you planned a lunch and jungkook never showed. you watched the clock tick and the time pass and nothing but radio silence. you tuck the handwritten letters back into your bag.

you got home and jungkook was passed out on the couch. you woke him, “hey go get in bed.” he stands barely awake, and walks into the bedroom flopping down onto your bed.

you walk past him into the bathroom. “where were you?” he mumbles. “lunch with my friends.” you say simply, taking the pins out of your hair.

“until 7 pm on a thursday? what for?” he asks. you sigh continuing to take your hair down from its high ponytail style. you don’t say anything until he groans lifting himself on the bed walking over to the bathroom door and standing in the frame. “what's wrong?” he asks you cluelessly which angers you. “nothing.” you say very monotone.

“you’re mad. why are you mad?” you don’t say anything and continue looking at yourself in the mirror. “i’m not.” you say simply. “ you aren’t even looking at me.” he grabs at your waist and you pull away. “stop.” you say moving away. “can you just tell me what’s wrong? i’m too tired for this shit.” he spits and that’s your final straw. you we so upset with him, that you didn't say anything at first trying to make sure you didn't say anything you didn't mean.

“today was the day we were supposed to ask my friends to be in the wedding and you didn’t even show. i sat there like a dumbass checking the clock hoping you’d show up. you didn’t. you didn’t even call. so yea, it’s very fucking clear that you’re too tired for this shit.” you motion back and forth between the two of you.

“you know damn well that’s not what i meant. i’m sorry babe, things just got so hectic today,” he explains.

“then a text would have eased my mind,” you spoke.

“i was busy, baby. what do you want me to say? you know what i do prepping for a comeback isn't easy.”

“whatever jungkook.” you dismiss him not trying to get more upset.

“did they all say yes?” he asked sitting on the edge of the tub. “i didn’t give them the letters.” you say simply. “why not?” he asks. “because i need more time.” he raises his brow. “for?” he presses.

“to think. see if this is something i even need to do.” you spit.

“what does that mean?” he asks standing up beside you. “jungkook, you haven’t put your input in. you haven’t seen the venue. you don’t care about the colors and you can’t even show up to a fucking lunch. yes, i know how hard it is to prep for a comeback, but planning a wedding by yourself is bullshit. we haven’t had sex in four weeks. you don’t want this relationship as bad as i do.” you explained.

“i want you more than anything.” he says. “then you’d make time! you'd act like it! i don’t ask for weekly dinners, and i don’t complain when you get home at 3 am and leave at 6 am. but, this is different. this is our marriage. i can’t help but think this is what our marriage will be. i’ll just keep waiting on you to find a balance for this shit, the whole world gets everything you got and i just get your last name. i sit at home and watch you create a life without me. that’s why i need to think jungkook.” you finally turn and look at him.

your eyes brimming with tears. “baby, i’ll figure it out i promise. it won’t be like this forever.” you shake your head as your tears fall. “you don’t know that. you know know your job is ever changing. i love you, i do, and i know how much your job means to you. i would never ask you to choose me over your job, but i make time for you even in my schedule. i’m a personal assistant for an idol. I’m gone just as much as you are.” you explain tears choking you up. he pulls you close and you sob in his arms. “what's wrong with me? why can't you make time for me?”

you take a deep breath, “i can’t do this anymore.” you realize he’s crying too. “don’t say that. please don’t say that.” he begs. “i’m sorry jungkook.” you back away from him. you hate how quick he is to let you go. you twist the beautiful ring jungkook gave you months ago, off your finger. you place the ring in his palm. “please,” he looks down at you. “i’m sorry.” you say walking back into your bedroom. you walk into your closet grab clothes and shove them into a duffle. “you don’t have to go tonight. just stay.” he pleads.

“i’m sorry, baby, please. please don't leave.” he cries. you move faster sobbing, you hated hearing him cry. your chest is heavy, as you cry so hard it’s hard to breathe. he walks into the closet and hugs you tight. “please don’t leave me. i don’t want to be alone tonight. please if you want to leave i have to be okay with letting you go, but i want you, i need you to know that I'm not giving up on us. just one more night. stay with me one more night, let me know you're not giving up on me.” you cry. you want to fall apart. “okay.” you say. he hugs you and doesn’t let go. he holds you so tight and so sure. his hands are shaking as he pulls you in. you get this feeling in your gut, you need space and so does he. one night only.

he finally lets go and holds your hand. you strip yourselves of your clothes and lay in bed holding each other, both of you praying this wasn’t the last time you'd hold each other so close.

——-—-—-—-✫-—--—-—-——

you arrive at the hospital. “jeon jungkook.” you speak to the front desk clerk. “relationship?” she asks. “umm, he’s my-my fiance.” she types quickly as you flash your id. “room 613,” she says.

you speed to the elevator taking it up to the sixth four. you look around the floor and run up to the door. you look through the small cut-out of glass. he’s just lying there, an oxygen mask on his face. tears start to pour from your eyes.

“oh my god” you back up starting to panic. “ma’am?” a doctor calls. you turn. “i’m doctor hill. are you his fiancee?” you nod. “yes, please tell me what happened.” you beg. “unfortunately, he was on the expressway southbound, and it seems that he lost control of his motorcycle, he ran into the back of a semi. he’s helmet saved him from any brain damage, but he is having a hard time breathing on his own as he’s punctured his left lung. he hasn’t woken up since we put him under anesthesia, the surgery was a success.” he explains looking at the file in his hands.

“he’s in a coma?” you ask. he nods sincerely. “he is alive and stable, but we aren’t sure when he will come out the the coma, it could be days, maybe months.” you began to sob. “i’m so sorry.” your soul is fading, it was hard to believe. you walk back up to the glass. you stare at him and curse yourself for ever leaving his side. you open the door and walk up to him. you just look at him, and tears fall. he has a black eye and some stitches about his eyebrow.

“i’m so sorry, baby.” you sob quietly. you hold his hand and sob harder when he doesn’t do the double squeeze he’d usually do. you kiss his cheek. “i’m not going anywhere. i’ll be right here i promise.” walk to the other side lay down your purse in the chair and push it to his bedside. you sit laying your head beside him. you gripped his hand and held it tightly.

you didn’t realize that you had fallen asleep until a nurse awakes you. “i’m sorry, here’s his belongings.” she hands you a clear bag with jungkook’s stuff inside. grab the back sitting up and opening it. his jacket was covered in blood, which made your eyes brim. his wallet you noticed something poking out of it. you pulled out a small polaroid of you and him on your first date. you wore disguises and went to six flags. you’d ask another couple to take the photo after you got off the batman ride. you smile reminiscing about how much fun you both had that day.

at the bottom of the bag is a chain with a ring on it, your ring. it was covered in blood as well. you sob, the nurse turns after checking on jungkook. “i’m so sorry ma’am. is there anything i can do for you. are you hungry? coffee?” you shake your head thanking her anyway before she leaves.

you undo the chain sliding your ring off. you hold it up walking over to the sink, washing and drying it, your tears still falling. you slide the ring onto your finger, holding it close to your chest. you walk over to your chair sitting and laying next to him again. “please wake up. please.” you beg.

you wish you never left his side. this was your fault, you thought to yourself. somehow, some way you had a feeling you could've stopped this.

——-—-—-—-✫-—--—-—-——

it had been three weeks since the accident. you were at the hospital every day since. you called your mom to pack a bag for you with everything you needed. your boss a friend of jungkook’s understood, telling you to take how long it took for jungkook to get better.

“good morning aundra.” you speak to the nurse you have grown closer with since being there. “morning darling!” she says cutely. “i’m happy to see you in a better mood today.” she speaks. “yea dr. hill says jungkook can breathe on his own. he’s getting stronger.” you explain. “i know. you’ve got a trooper on your hands for sure.” she smiles.

a few hours later you’re on facetime with the boys telling them how much jungkook has been progressing since they saw him the first time. they sigh a sigh of relief. “he’s so strong guy. we know he’ll be back and kicking as soon as he wakes up. you nod, telling them you were going to try to sleep before the next nurse came to check on him telling them you’d talk to them later.

you lay your head on his lap looking at him. “my pretty boy. you’re so strong. you know i never understood this part of you. you take on so much and come back so strong. you are otherworldly, baby.” you kiss his hand and stand going to nap on the bench across the room. you lay down slowly drifting to sleep.

——-—-—-—-✫-—--—-—-——

you wake to some talking. “how long has she been here?” you hear a low familiar voice. “3 weeks. every day since the accident. this is the longest she’s slept.” you hear a female voice. you turn your eyes fluttering open. you see jungkook sitting up stuffing his mouth with food.

“jungkook!” you scream running over to him hugging him tightly and he groans. “oh im sorry! you’re just you’re awake. my god youre awake. i’m so fucking happy youre okay. jesus please you scared me half to death.” you hug him sobbing. he hold you tight. he swallows his mouthful of food. “hi baby, im sorry im just so hungry.” you giggle looking at him and pecking his lips.

“you were here this whole time?” he asks. you nod. “everyday, 24/7.” you smile. “thank you. i love you.” he looks at you pecking your lips again. he hold both your hands feeling your ring on your finger his eyes shoot down. “you put your ring back on?” you hum. “yeah… i did. i should’ve never taken it off.” he smiles.

“where were you even going?” you ask him, now you must know. he bites his sandwich and swallows before speaking, “your house. i had taken two weeks off of work, i wanted to show you i was serious. i talked to my manager, and he told me, that if i start doubling down every other day it’d speed things up for us, meaning more free time. more time for us.” you smile at him your eyes spilling with tears. he was on his way to you. you were happy he was thinking of you just as much as you were thinking of him. unfortunately, though you can't help but feel like this was your fault. you shake the thought as he grabs your hand, you interlock fingers.

“i love you so fucking much. so so fucking much jungkook.” he kisses your cheek. “i love you more baby.” he says biting his sandwich. “i heard hospital food sucks, and this could just be because i haven’t eaten in three weeks, but this sandwich is fucking amazing.” you giggle.

“oh i have to call the boys.” you speak wiping away your tears. “i talked to them earlier.” jungkook says. “how long have you been up?” you ask raising your brow. “45 minutes or so, i just didn't want to wake you. the nurse said you had barely been sleeping,” he said.

“duh! my fiancé was unconscious in a hospital bed. if someone sleeps peacefully during that, lock them up and throw away the key.” you state. he chuckles lightly.

“i like when you call me that. it feels good to hear that again.”

“what fiancé?” you ask. he nodded cutely.

“so what are the colors?” he asks all of a sudden. “colors of what?” you ask. “for the wedding. what were you thinking?” you smile and sit beside him. you quickly pull up your pinterest board showing him all your ideas. he didn’t show it but knowing you kept them, comforted him.

“white arch? it’ll clash with your dress.” he points out. “oh. oh my god, you're right! we could do green, maybe like ivy leaves?” you suggest. “i think that’ll be immaculate with my grey suit, too. yea, it’ll look amazing.” he adds.

“you already did so good without me baby.” he says. “but it’s clear that i need you. i would’ve been crying for days about that fucking arch.” he chuckles. “i’m still so stuck on flowers.” you pout. “well dr. hill says i have six weeks to recover before i can’t start schedules again. we have time.” he says. you kiss his cheek fluffing his hair.

——-—-—-—-✫-—--—-—-——

for the first time in six months, you walk into your shared apartment. your pictures still hanging on the wall, everything exactly where you left it.

you lay in bed next to him. he wraps his arm around you pulling you in. he kisses the top of your head. “the bed was so cold without you.” he whispers. “i’m never going anywhere ever again.” you peck his lips.

“i need you. i haven’t gotten a good rest in ages, my sleep paralysis started to act up again. just laying in the hospital room with you i slept more than i have in the last six months.” you say. “you just make me breathe better.” you express.

he pouts it hurts him to hear how badly you were struggling. “i was suffocating without you. i love my job but coming home to you made me feel like i won the lottery. i didn’t realize how much i had won until i lost it. i will not fuck it up this time. winning the lottery once is just luck, but twice is a sign.” you giggle rubbing your nose along his.

“i missed you so much, baby.” he says. “trust me i missed you more.” you reply. “impossible.” he whispers before kissing you deeply. you hum into the kiss, the way he kissed you makes your body tingle. you nervously bury your face into his chest. “you are so cute, why so shy? it’s just me.” he smiles. “you just got that effect on me. you make me feel like a teenager, kicking my feet and daydreaming and shit.” you mumble into his chest, he giggles brightly.

“kiss me again,” you say looking up at him. he obeys quickly kissing your lips. jungkook never found the idea of sucking someone’s tongue until he met you. the way you kiss him had a tent quickly growing in his pants.

he hums. “i’m so hard for you right now.” he states pecking your lips. you lightly push him away tutting. “no physical activity for you sir. dr. hill told me it’s imperative that don’t do anything that requires too much physical activity, for your lungs. so no sex right now.” you explain. “what?! come on. i haven’t felt you in months. now i have to wait even longer?” you nod and he groans throwing his head back in frustration. suddenly an idea pops into your head.

“what if…” he hums letting you know he's listening, “ i give you a handjob?” you whisper. “be serious, babe. don’t tease me.” he whines in his last sentence.

you giggle sliding your hands down his sweats. you stroke him slowly. you quickly look up at his licking your fingers before swirling them on his tip. “oh shit. that feels good.” you continue stroking him at a steady pace. “fuck” he mutters. “i wasn’t trying to cum this soon.” he chuckles nervously. “it’s okay baby. give me your cum. i want it so bad” you say teasingly.

he moans biting his lip. you stroke him faster, “just like like that, ohh shit.” you groan. you stroke him just how he likes. he kisses you deeply as you stroke him. “you are so fucking hot.” he whispers. you kiss him again lightly tugging on his bottom lip. “i’m cumming.” he mumbles moaning as he shoots his thick load onto your hand and in his pants. you slide your hand out covered in him. you look at him licking his cum off your knuckles. he looks at you in awe. “mm” you hum lightly flashing him a smile.

“i just want pick you up and fuck you.” you giggle at his bluntness. “jungkook.” you laugh. “what? the way you were just looking at me when you licked your fingers, you know if i was in full health right now i would be fucking you so good.” you smile pecking his slips. “one week.” you said simply. “that’s how long dr. hill said.” you explain. he looks at you, “you think it’s possible to sleep for a week?” you pinch his nose with your fingers. “yea you were sleep for three. no more sleeping for you sir.” he giggles.

“let’s shower.” you say patting his cheek. “oh definitely, you just made me cum in my pants.” he starts to move but you stop him.

“i’m sorry.” you say for the millionth time. “for what?” he questions. “for not believing in you when you said you'd figure it you. i should’ve,” you say simply. you hold back the tears that are making your throat close up.

“look, i know things were difficult, but i knew that night when you stayed, you weren’t giving up on me. on us,” he corrects. “ you stayed by my side for three weeks. you brushed my hair, you talked to me, you gave me a sponge bath. you always believed in me. this accident was not your fault, i need to understand that.” you pout your eyes threatening to spill.

“nuh-uh, no more tears. it’s only up from here, my love.” you hold his close. his thumb wipes away your tears that fall. “now let’s get in the shower.” he pats your butt before moving and standing up quickly. he groans leaning back onto the bed. “woah, take it easy, baby.” he huffs. “i’m not used to be this slow.” he chuckles.

“in all due time. trust me next week you’ll feel much better,” you explain. he nods as you help him stand. “i got you, babe.” he groans standing. you walk into the bathroom and he leans against the sink. you help him take off his shirt as his shoulder is in pain. “you’d look so hot in scrubs.” he says admiring you as you help him.

“oh hush.” you giggle. you help him take of his pants, his semi hard cock spring out. you look up at him. “what?” he whines. “you’re still hard?” you tease. “yes! i just thought about how you look naked.” he spoke. you laugh. you lift your shirt off and undo your bra and your tits bounce out.

“see? and you expect me not to be hard right now?” you giggle turning around and turning the shower on. “okay you first.” he steps in letting the hot water hit his skin. “hurry up.” he rushes you. “have some patience,” you say raising your brown jokingly. you slip off your shorts and step in. your back faces jungkook as you reach for your shampoo, and suddenly a slap hits your ass. you stand quickly. “jungkook.” you warn.

“what? come on. your ass was on full display, it was the urges inside me.” you chuckle. “that wasn’t me, i didn’t want to slap your ass, but the parasites in me wanted to slap your ass.” you laugh loudly. “shut up!” you chide jokingly.

you apply soap onto a washcloth, and start washing his chest. “i wanna get married tomorrow.” he says suddenly. “what?!” you almost yell. you look at him in disbelief. “i don’t even have a dress.” you explain. “then let’s go thrift one. i realized that life is too short, and in this lifetime i need you to be my wife.” you smile, but you don’t say anything. “what if… we get married tomorrow, and we still have a wedding. we can still do it big, when we actually get married it’s just us. me and you like i will be forever.” you suggest. you smile at him. “okay.” you say. “okay like you're just doing it for me or you love the idea?” you chuckle as you realize his small panic. “i love the idea. just me and you.” you say.

“forever,” he adds.

“and ever, until the end of time.” you grin, finally everything feels good. you stand in front of your soon-to-be husband, excited for what the future holds.

——-—-—-—-✫-—--—-—-——

#bts jungkook #jungkook #jungkook jeon #bts #jungkook smut #bangtan jungkook #jeon jungkoooook #bts army #bangtan smut #jeon jungkook #bts fic #bts fanfic #bangtan #bts x reader #bts x y/n #bts x you #bts x fem!reader

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gabbytbll · 7 months ago

Note

Hiii ,can I request a Zayne ABC (NSFW ) headcanons?

love and deep space💫

❄𝐙𝐀𝐘𝐍𝐄'𝐒 𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝐀𝐁𝐂'𝐒❆

masterlist 𝐓𝐚𝐠 𝐒𝐡𝐞𝐞𝐭

Authors note: haii i hope you like this Anon♡ Zayne might be OOC! plus I'm doing this half asleep but that's ok☺ Also i am not that far ahead in the story so please bare with me! (BTW did anyone get the new Sylus memory yet I'm struggling so bad for some reason, and it's been out for WEEKS!!! I'm desperate for this man!!)

There will be mistakes!!!

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆'𝐒: NSFW! MDNI!!! there will be sexual content as this is a NSFW ABC'S

𝐀: 𝐀𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞 (𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲’𝐫𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐞𝐱)

•He is the king of aftercare he loves taking care of you, he has everything you need I'm talking towels, water, etc.

•He loves running you a bath afterwards with your favorite scent, bath bomb, bubble, etc.

•I feel like he loves to also massage you afterwards to because you might get some cramps from being put in different position's

•He will definitely still take care of you even if you do fall asleep on him your health is very important to him

𝐁: 𝐁𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 (𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐢�� 𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐥𝐬𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐧𝐞𝐫’𝐬)

•He loves his hands the most because they can save people in surgery, etc.

•I feel like he wouldn't care what you look like because he's the type of man that looks more for the inside of you rather than appearance of you

•He might like your thighs more than normal tho because he likes sleeping on them and the feeling of the squishiness beneath his fingers (i like to think he's a thigh guy)

𝐂: 𝐂𝐮𝐦 (𝐀𝐧𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐨 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐜𝐮𝐦)

•I feel like he loves to cum on you face or your stomach he likes when your painted with his seed

•UNLESS you both talked about having a child then he will love releasing inside of you the most

𝐃: 𝐃𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐲 𝐒𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭

•He stole one of your panties before and used it for masturbation while he was away at the hospital for a while

•I don't think he would ever tell you that because he's embarrassed of what he did

𝐄: 𝐄𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 (𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲? 𝐃𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲’𝐫𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠?)

•Well, he's definitely not a virgin but i feel like he was a little bit inexperienced because he works all the time, and he never really has time to do that type of stuff

•I feel like as you and him started to have sex more then he will be experienced in what to do for you in bed

𝐅: 𝐅𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐏𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

•I don't know i think he's a classic guy with sex position until he wants to start exploring more in bed

•So far i think his favorite sex position would me missionary or doggy style like i said he's a classic guy

•But he might like missionary the most because he can see your face convert in pleasure and he can give you kisses

𝐆: 𝐆𝐨𝐨𝐟𝐲 (𝐀𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭, 𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐡𝐮𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐬, 𝐞𝐭𝐜.)

•He is not goofy at all

•He is focused on making you scream there's no time to laugh or crack jokes

•But he does chuckle sometimes when you beg for more-

𝐇: 𝐇𝐚𝐢𝐫 (𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐥-𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲, 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐩𝐞𝐭 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐞𝐬, 𝐞𝐭𝐜.)

•He definitely takes care of himself so i don't think he would like down there to get to out of control but there is still some hair down there

•If you have a bush, he won't care he will just explore the jungle like it's his favorite activity on a weekend

𝐈: 𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐜𝐲 (𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐝𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭, 𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐜 𝐚𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭)

•Oh man is he a romantic dream

•He is so gentle and loving sometimes it brings tears to your eyes because oh my gosh this man is a fever dream

•While you're doing the deed he always likes to asks if this is ok, are you ok, etc

𝐉: 𝐉𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐎𝐟𝐟 (𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧)

•He does not jack off as much as you would think

•He is always busy in the hospital, so he doesn't really have much time to do that

•He wants you to help him anyways

𝐊: 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤 (𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐬)

•Ice play- is definitely one of his kinks he can make anything you want out of his evol

•Blindfolding- is one to like he loves how you don't know what he's going to do to you next, he likes to surprise you

•Breeding- He loves to cum inside of you because he likes how you feel around his dick, he also wants to get you pregnant (he's a family guy)

𝐋: 𝐋𝐨𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 (𝐅𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐨)

•He doesn't like doing it in public that much

•But sometimes he does it in his office or a random cafe bathroom whenever he's more desperate or if you get him jealous

•The both of you has fucked everywhere in his house.

𝐌: 𝐌𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 (𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐨𝐧, 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠)

•I feel like if you tease him like brush against his dick with your hand or butt, he will think that you want to have sex right then and there

•Whenever you groan or make a small noise he thinks its cute but it does something to him he doesn't want to admit

𝐍: 𝐍𝐨 (𝐒𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝𝐧’𝐭 𝐝𝐨, 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐨𝐟𝐟𝐬)

•He will never hurt you he's still iffy about spanking you but he gives in sometimes because you might beg for it but when he spanks you, he does it lightly

•He will never fuck you in front of someone that's a big no for him you're his and he is yours

𝐎: 𝐎𝐫𝐚𝐥 (𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐬𝐤𝐢𝐥𝐥, 𝐞𝐭𝐜.)

•He loves to give you oral the most i feel like he wouldn't care if you sucked him off or not because he's focused on you but sometimes he wants you to suck him off first

•He eats your pussy like his life depended on it, he treats you so good he got your legs shaking in the air

𝐏: 𝐏𝐚𝐜𝐞 (𝐀𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐟𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡? 𝐒𝐥𝐨𝐰 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐚𝐥?)

•He likes doing it slow and sensual, but he will do whatever you ask him except sometimes

•He likes dragging it out because whenever the both of you release its feel better then fast and rough

•If you want it fast and rough, then he will give it to you and make you regret ever asking him that

𝐐: 𝐐𝐮𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐞 (𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐨𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐞𝐱, 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐨𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐧, 𝐞𝐭𝐜.)

•He doesn't like quickies but sometimes he does them anyways because he needs you asap

•He likes to use sec as a way to spend time with you to so that's why he hates doing quickies because he can't spend as much time with you as he wants

𝐑: 𝐑𝐢𝐬𝐤 (𝐀𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐠𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭, 𝐝𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐤𝐬, 𝐞𝐭𝐜.)

•He would love to experiment with whatever he and you are comfortable with

•Then he would randomly do whatever the both of you tried and if you liked it in bed (he loves to surprise you)

𝐒: 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐚 (𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐠𝐨 𝐟𝐨𝐫, 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐝𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭…)

•He has a lot of stamina i would say so he could go for 4-5 rounds on a good day and maybe 2-3 on a bad day

•He lasts about 20-25 minutes every round close to it

•Or he will stop whenever you can't go no more

𝐓: 𝐓𝐨𝐲𝐬 (𝐃𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐭𝐨𝐲𝐬? 𝐃𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦? 𝐎𝐧 𝐚 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐧𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐬?)

•He owns a lot of toys like dildos, vibrators, gags, etc and there all for you

•He uses them on you all the time mostly, but he does experiment and uses the vibrator on himself like you might asked for him to do

𝐔: 𝐔𝐧𝐟𝐚𝐢𝐫 (𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞)

•He is so unfair, but he knows when to stop

•He likes to pull out right as you were about to cum or just straight up ruin your orgasm for fun

•He also likes to rub his dick around your pussy to make you beg him to put it in

𝐕: 𝐕𝐨𝐥𝐮𝐦𝐞 (𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐚𝐫𝐞, 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞)

•He is not the loud but after a round or two you will hear him whimper and grunt louder

•He knows you think he's hot when he moans and grunts so he does it in your ear so he can feel you clench around him

𝐖: 𝐖𝐢𝐥𝐝 𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐝 (𝐑𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐦 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧)

•He fell down the hospital stairs before without nobody noticing so he ran away from the scene (he's embarrassed about it)

𝐗: 𝐗-𝐑𝐚𝐲 (𝐋𝐞𝐭’𝐬 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭’𝐬 𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐩𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐬)

•I think he's bigger than average but just by a little so he might be 7'9 inches but he's very thick

•He is very proud of how big he is

𝐘: 𝐘𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 (𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐡 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐬𝐞𝐱 𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐞?)

•His sex drive is not that high but sometimes he just gets so stressed and pent up then he can just go on for hours

•He feels bad for you whenever he gets pent up like that, so he goes and buys you some ice cream

𝐙: 𝐙𝐙𝐙 (… 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐚𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐬)

•He doesn't fall asleep right away he wants to make sure your ok

•He will do everything for you whatever you ask him to do he will do

•He's the king of aftercare♡

And that concludes this post I hope you like it! make sure you like and comment I would appreciate it♡♡

©️ gabbytbll. do not copy, repost, or translate across other sites. do not copy my sentence structures, plot or characterization.

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vifilms · 1 year ago

Text

CURRENTLY THINKING ABOUT...

doctor!abby who you meet for the first time when she’s covering the emergency room. you’re a patient, suffering from abdominal pain and a high fever. it’s pretty quiet, and it’s also three in the morning on a wednesday. late night shifts weren’t unfamiliar territory for her, she only had a few more hours left and she would be calling it a night.

doctor!abby who greets you with a soft smile as she glazes over your chart, before introducing herself. even with all the pain you’re in, you try your best to muster the courage to put on your best face, but you’re in pain and it’s evident.

doctor!abby tells you she wants to run a few more tests after you explain to her what brought you back in here. she tells the intern to notify her when your test results come back in. she believes it’s your appendix, inflamed and your symptoms masking themselves as a flu doesn’t help. it’s why the last hospital had missed it when you came in a week ago.

doctor!abby attempts to stir the thought of you from her mind. you're a patient. she's your doctor, and she'll be your surgeon if she's right about your prognosis. abby can't think about how you're extremely easy on the eyes. how your eyelashes compliment your eyes, accentuating the darling hue she could get lost in if she allowed herself. your voice floats over her heart like honey, sweetening her up at her very core. it's sickening how she wants to swallow every bit of it.

doctor!abby finds it a little hard to believe she feels this way just after one brief interaction with you. she prides herself on being professional, being distant enough from the patient. she has to be, her focus needs to be lasered when she's in the operating room. she can't think of how beautiful you are, how much she wants to flirt with you, and how she would if she'd met you anywhere but this godforsaken hospital. god has a special kind of torture for making you her patient. she can just be your surgeon. cut you open, patch you up, and send you back home. it's all she can do.

doctor!abby wants to uppercut this intern’s jaw. it’s really not their fault, but you’re undeniably in pain and they were attending to another patient before giving your results to the lab. but it’s more than clear with the results coming back, it’s your appendix and she’s sure at this point it’s ruptured. fresh tears spring to your eyes as she explains they need to get you into surgery right away, before any further damage can happen.

doctor!abby watches as you wipe your tears away, embarrassed you’re crying in front of the stupidly hot doctor. it’s mortifying, and you hated to be like this in front of anyone. abby’s expression is focused, cold even. she reassures you the intern is going to prep you for surgery, the weight in your shoulders drops, but the pain persistent.

doctor!abby who is elated when the surgery goes smoothly. you wake up several hours later with slight discomfort, but you’re recovering nicely. she was supposed to leave the hospital hours ago, but couldn't bring herself too. the thoughts of you coming out of anthesia after your surgery, telling her how gorgeous she is and how briliant she is to save your life.

doctor!abby who was thankful you wouldn't remember her cheeks flushed, dazed eyes and a stupid smile from your compliment alone — thankfully no one to see how unprofessional she was being. how her stupid, caring heart couldn't seem to control itself around you. she blamed your eyes. they were too easy to get fall for, making her get lost in nostalgia, as if she’d loved you in some past life.

doctor!abby who thinks about you even after you’re discharged. you’re home, healthy, and should be out of her mind but you’re not. your existence stretched into every thought of hers. god, maybe it’s impenetrable, rose-colored glasses affecting her judgement, but she wonder what it would be like to see you out of the walls of this hospital. she imagines picking you up for a first date, holding your hand sweetly even if she was nervous — god — she thinks about kissing you the most. she would savor every moment if you let her.

doctor!abby who happens to see you again at dina’s place or more accurately, you’re waiting in the pouring rain, downright soaked. lightning paints the skies, cracking thunder rumbles making you jump as your rubs your hands along your forearms trying to regain some warmth. she’s never been more thankful for her loud neighbor. of all the people in the seattle area dina could be friends with it’s you. the woman she can’t stop thinking about, the beautiful goddess she dreams about is within her reach and she’s definitely going to take advantage of it.

abby softly greets you not wanting to frighten you, declaration of her appearance known as she says your name eloquently. it’s the hot doctor, oh my god. oh my god.

“dr. anderson?” you question, a hint of a smile wanting to escape and abby takes note. your hair is wet, silky, hint of curls forming. drops of the rain flow over supple cheeks, falling over wet lips.

yet again, abby is reminded of just how beautiful you are. butterflies swarm the pit of her stomach at your excitement to see her. you’re surprised but you can’t stop looking at her. it’s a relief, the hope you might feel the same as her.

“please, just abby.” so distracted by her, domineering presence you noticed the umbrella she had, shielding you from the dreadful rain. but it really didn’t seem too terrible. not when she was in your company.

abby was shed of her white coat, only wearing navy blue scrubs and simple tennis shoes for comfort. biceps sculpted to the heavens, slightly wet from the rain which seemed to make them appear even more delicious. you want to eat her right up.

“i’m so confused. you live here?” abby gestures to the house right next door. “yeah, right next door.”

“i was just coming home and you looked…..wet.” abby silently cursed herself for being so goddamn awkward. it was worth it though, your small laugh an equal reward.

“if you want, you can come to mine. dry off, not get completely soaked while you wait for dina.” abby offers sweetly. “totally up to you, but my home is pretty damn cozy. warm too.”

the two of you are smiling like idiots. abby’s hoping you say yes and you’re thinking about how adorable she is, despite how physically terrifying she may appear.

“okay….yeah. i might be into that.”

“yeah?” abby’s voice changes, dropping into a tone you hadn’t heard before. it’s pure velvet and you want to feel it on your skin. you want to feel all of her. she leads the way as you stay under the umbrella, impossibly close to her as she protects you from the rain.

doctor!abby who gets you a change of dry clothes, a crewneck sweater and sweatpants. she can’t help but notice how adorable you look in her clothes. abby tries to do her best not to flirt with you as you’re sitting on her couch, but she fails. she’s asking normal questions, non-sequential small talk, but her hand is on your thigh. though the cotton is thick, her touch lights a fire between your thighs.

doctor!abby who nearly combusts when you start touching her arms, her shoulder, ghosting longer her thigh. but they find home elsewhere. fingers delicately smoothing over the end of her braid. abby can’t stop the way her heart stops, and then continues. the blonde strands wrap around your finger like a vice, clinging onto you as if it’s the sole purpose of existing.

doctor!abby who can see the ember shining in your eyes, the way you’re looking at her, like you might just eat her whole. fuck, she would let you too. she’d let you do whatever you want.

“i bet you look beautiful with your hair down.” you tell abby, inching forward, your thigh touching hers. “but you’re beautiful like this, too.”

“beautiful? me?” abby questioned as if it wasn’t obvious.

“don’t play dumb, dr. anderson.”

“i told you to call me ab—” her words just stop when you sling your left leg over, straddling her, grinding your hips just slightly before you fully press your weight on her. she sighs at the contact. feels s’good, having you this close.

wordlessly, you slowly undo her braid until every blond strand is free, her scalp thankful for it. abby moans as you run your fingers through her hair. your bring it over her shoulders on both sides, cradling her face in the palm of your hands.

“you really think you’re not? you’re going to sit here and pretend like you’re not the most beautiful woman i’ve ever seen?” abby blushes, supple cheeks close to crimson, but she doesn’t look away.

“yeah, baby? you think so?”

“i know you are.”

abby lifts her hips cockily, smirking as the moan leaves your lips. all these layers, but being pressed up against her is doing something to you.

“i guess blonde doctors are your type then, huh?”

“only when they keep checking up on me when they didn’t have to.” your hands rest on her hips, as you lean into her, nose pressed against hers, lips ghosting over her very kissable ones.

“i was just doing my job, you know?”

“sure you were, dr. anderson.” abby grunts, aggravated you won’t just say her name again. she needs to hear it.

she can feel your breath on her lips, if she just moved slightly upwards, she’d be kissing you. she wants to, needs to.

“you want to kiss me.” your pupils dilate and your voice trembles.

“say my name and maybe i will.”

“so it’s that easy?”

“mhmmm, that easy.” abby hums, and her name is about to fall off your lips. tragically, dina walks through abby’s front door before you get the chance to. you’re not embarrassed to be found on abby’s lap, and dina knows it too. she just laughs and asks if you’re ready to go.

you whisper in abby’s ear before biting gently, “until next time, dr. anderson.”

an. omfg i actually like something i wrote???? wild.

#✭・۪ ⊹ ֗ ray’s works #if you're a med student....do not come for me pls #yes i’ve been watching a lot of grey’s anatomy and thinking about abby being my doctor #abby anderson x reader #abby x you #abby the last of us #abby anderson x female reader #abby tlou2 #abby anderson tlou2 #abby anderson x fem!reader #abby anderson x you #abby anderson x y/n #abby anderson x poc reader #abby anderson x masc reader #abby anderson smut #abby anderson fluff #abby x reader

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hypnobeauty · 1 month ago

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A Chance Encounter - a cho hyun-ju x reader fic (part 3)

summary: a story about how you and Hyun-ju met and the following years of your relationship. part 1 / part 2 cw: no use of y/n, reader is afab, angst, fluff, hyun is unsure of herself, pre-squid game, slice of life. a/n: hello! i'm back with another part. it is probably the biggest one so far. i wish they were my barbies and i could make them kiss. anyway! i have quite a bit of the story drafted, we'll probably get into the relationship next part. it is out of my control, i never imagined i'd write so many parts lol enjoy xx comments are always appreciated ♥ taglist: @strayteez3staner @dekiruxxx @jeongteen @sunnysurvives @3leni @etta-huracan @honeyhyunju @basoressia - comment if you’d like to be tagged.

part 3. a door left open

the uber ride was awkward at first, the kind of silence where neither of you seemed to know where to start. hyun-ju sat stiffly beside you, her hands folded neatly on her lap, her gaze fixed firmly on the window. you could see her shoulders tense, and you thought about how tired she must be.

you decided to break the silence. “so, are you in pain? be honest.”

she turned her head slightly, her expression unreadable. “a little,” she admitted. “mostly just… tired.”

“that’s fair,” you said, giving her a sympathetic smile. “surgery’s no joke. i remember when my cousin had his wisdom teeth out—he tried to eat a cheeseburger the same day. ended up crying into his fries. don’t be like him.”

that earned a small giggle from her, and you took it as a good sign.

“you’re lucky i didn’t let ha-neul come with us,” you added, leaning in conspiratorially. “she would’ve pestered you with questions about your nose—she’s obsessed with noses right now. it’s been her only personality trait for weeks.”

this time, hyun-ju chuckled, soft but genuine. “what’s wrong with her nose?”

“nothing,” you said, grinning. “she just decided it’s not ‘cute’ enough. she almost picked one that would’ve made her look like michael jackson. i had to intervene.”

that got a laugh out of her—small, but real. “michael jackson?”

you nodded, feigning solemnity. “i told her, ‘ha-neul, your nose is fine. it’s perfect. no glitter gloves necessary.�� she almost went through with it anyway.”

hyun-ju laughed a bit more, finally relaxing a bit. the sound eased something in your chest.

“you’re good at this,” she said after a moment, her voice quieter now.

“at what?”

“making people feel comfortable.”

you shrugged, feeling a little shy. “oh. i just think it’s nice to be kind. and honestly? helping you was no big deal. it’s what anyone would do.”

“not anyone,” she said, looking at you for the first time since you got in the car.

when the uber pulled up to her building, you hopped out with her, offering to help her up to her apartment “do you need help getting upstairs?”

she shook her head firmly, already reaching for the door handle. “no, it’s fine. i can manage.”

“okay,” you said, “at least let me give you my number. if you need anything, just text me, okay?”

hyun-ju hesitated for a moment, then nodded slowly, her eyes flickering with something unreadable. you exchanged numbers, and she disappeared into her building while you climbed back into the car.

later that night, as she sat on her couch, her phone buzzed.

hey, it’s me. i hope you’re feeling better. please keep me updated, and don’t hesitate to ask for help. you deserve it too.

she read it almost immediately. you watched the little “read” notification appear at the bottom of the screen. but no reply came.

hyun stared at the message for a long time, her fingers hovering over the keyboard. she typed out a reply, then deleted it. typed another, then deleted that too. nothing felt right. nothing felt good enough. finally, she locked her phone and set it down,

as the uber pulled away from hyun-ju’s building, you leaned back in the seat, finally exhaling the tension you hadn’t realized you were holding. before you could fully settle, your phone buzzed in your pocket. ha-neul’s name lit up the screen.

“heeyy,” you answered, bracing yourself.

“what happened? you just disappeared! did i miss an emergency rhinoplasty?” her tone was playful but edged with curiosity.

you sighed. “no emergency. i just… ended up helping someone.”

“helping someone? who?”

you hesitated. “the woman from the waiting room. remember her, hyun-ju? she had just had surgery, and the clinic wouldn’t let her leave without someone to sign her out.”

there was a pause, then an incredulous laugh. “wait, so you ditched me for someone you barely know?”

“it wasn’t like that,” you said quickly. “she needed help, and no one else was there. i couldn’t just leave her.”

another pause, but this time, ha-neul’s tone softened. “you’re too nice for your own good, you know that?”

“maybe,” you admitted.

“and she’s pretty, isn’t she?” ha-neul’s teasing edge was back.

you laughed, flustered. “i mean… i guess? that’s not the point.”

there was a beat of silence on the line. then, she snorted. “well, i didn’t know you were into girls.”

“what?” you sputtered.

“oh, don’t act surprised. i knew it since that day,” she teased mercilessly.

“to be honest,” you admitted, “me neither.”

“oh my god, you are so into her! i knew it! since the first time we saw her, i knew something was up.”

“i’m not into her,” you said, though your voice didn’t sound as convincing as you’d hoped.

“sure, sure,” she said, dragging out the words. “you’re just playing knight in shining armor for no reason at all.”

you rolled your eyes but smiled despite yourself. “goodbye, ha-neul.”

“oh, this isn’t over. i’m going to interrogate you later.”

you hung up with a laugh, shaking your head. from that day on, ha-neul teased you mercilessly—she found a way to always bring up hyun-ju, teasing you about how you’d never been so straightforward with anyone before, and even your friends got in on it after she spilled the story at dinner the following night.

the only problem? hyun-ju never replied.

you sent her a series of messages over the next week:

hey, how are you feeling today? let me know if you need anything.

i live close by—it’s no trouble at all.

two days later:

hey, stranger! ha-neul had her surgery today and looked worse than you, haha.

sorry, i didn’t mean to say you looked bad, just… well, bruised. are you okay?

hyun brought you up in therapy the following week, sitting across from her therapist—a kind, middle-aged woman who specialized in lgbtq+ mental health.

“i met someone,” hyun said hesitantly, her hands fidgeting in her lap.

her therapist’s face lit up. “that’s wonderful, hyun-ju. tell me about her.”

“she’s… nice,” hyun said, struggling to find the words. “she helped me after my surgery. we talked a little. she’s funny.”

“and how do you feel about her?”

hyun hesitated, then shrugged. “i don’t know. it feels… weird. like, she sees me. as me. and that’s good, but it’s scary too.”

her therapist nodded thoughtfully. “it sounds like you’re afraid of being vulnerable.”

hyun wasn’t sure what to say, so her therapist continued. “are you planning to stay in touch with her?”

“i think so,” hyun said cautiously. “but it’s scary. what if i say the wrong thing? what if i ruin it?”

her therapist smiled gently. “relationships—friendships, too—are about taking risks. you don’t have to have all the answers or the perfect words. just being honest and showing up is enough. let her in a little and see what happens.”

hyun left the session feeling lighter, more hopeful.

but when the messages from you kept coming, her anxiety crept back in.

each time her phone buzzed, she felt a pang of guilt. she typed out replies over and over, but nothing felt good enough. her fear of saying the wrong thing left her paralyzed, so she said nothing at all.

three days after the last message:

i’m starting to get worried, hyun-ju. just let me know if you’re fine.

another day:

i pass by your building every day on my way to work. should i stop by?

and finally:

hey, hyun-ju. did something happen? sorry if i came on too strong—i was genuinely worried about you.

i can see you’re reading these, but you never reply… i get it. i’ll leave you alone now. sorry if i made you uncomfortable.

after that, the chat stayed silent. when she received your last message, guilt and regret gnawed at her. she wanted to scream. to hit something. to do anything but face the truth: she had let fear win again.

in her next therapy session, when the doctor asked about you, hyun-ju lied.

“it… didn’t work out,” she said quickly, not meeting her therapist’s eyes. “she probably realized we’re too different.”

the therapist gave her a kind smile but didn’t press further. “that’s okay, hyun-ju. not every connection works out. what matters is that you tried, and you allowed yourself to open up, even if only for a moment.”

hyun-ju nodded, but her stomach churned. she couldn’t bring herself to admit the truth—that she hadn’t replied to a single message.

you stared at the chat for a long time after sending that last message. the little grey avatar beside her name felt cold, distant—you wished she had a profile pic. your own days moved forward, though you found yourself thinking of her often. you reread your messages to her, trying to pinpoint where you’d gone wrong. even ha-neul, who had teased you endlessly at first, stopped mentioning her after seeing how the silence weighed on you.

life went on. but hyun-ju had awakened in you feelings you had never taken seriously before and now you couldn’t help feeling like something had been left unresolved.

a month later, you were standing in line at your favorite café, eyes scanning the pastry display as you tried to choose something to pair with your cappuccino.

unbeknownst to you, at a table near the window, hyun-ju sat with her notebook, calculating the cost of her next procedure. she sipped her coffee absentmindedly, the barista’s voice barely registering as they called out a name—your name.

her pen froze mid-stroke. it wasn’t a common name. could it really be you? as she told herself it wasn’t, she heard your laugh, warm and unmistakable. her head snapped up, and there you were, joking with the barista as they handed you a cup and a paper bag.

hyun-ju stared, her heart pounding. you thanked them and turned toward the door, completely unaware of her. her legs moved before her mind could catch up. one moment she was sitting; the next, she was standing in front of you, her hand gripping your arm.

you had just reached the door when you felt a hand on your arm and a soft voice behind you saying your name. you turned, startled, and found yourself in front of her.

“can w—can we talk?” she asked, her voice low but firm. “please.”

you looked up from her hand—her nails were painted a soft blush pink and you made a mental note to ask her what nail polish it was—, and that familiar floral scent reached your nose. her expression was a mix of hope, fear, and determination.

face-to-face with hyun-ju, you smiled softly. “of course.”

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muzzlemouths · 13 days ago

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Oneshot Masterlist

Returning the Favor - Moon Centric - Moon has a habit of helping you to bed. It's only fair that you return the favor.

We Dance in Synchronous Rotation - Moon Centric - (Dream Eater Au) It's been three days since you've managed to catch some shut eye, and continuing to fight off sleep sees you coming face to face with your worst nightmare.

What Remains After Ruination - Eclipse Centric - A year after the fire, you return to the plex to see if you can make sense of it all, and find something — and someone — unexpected.

Whatever this is, it's over - Sun & Moon Centric - You've been fired.

The Loveliness of Loving You - Sun Centric - You desperately want to kiss Sun. He desperately wants to be kissed. Too bad you're thick as a post!

Two of Us - Moon Centric - You've been stuck with a migrain for days now, and Moon isn't helping, but in the end Moon is just what you need to feel better.

Please (don't go) - Moon Centric - You're about to clock out for the night when Sun pulls you aside and asks for your help. Moon hasn't been feeling himself lately, and you think it might have to do with the blood under his nails.

Best Friend - Sun Centric - You spend the last hour of your shift making friendship bracelets.

There's a First Time for Everything - Sun & Moon Centric (no y/n) - It isn't every day that Sun finds a dead body behind the desk.

I'm Glad I Didn't Die Before I Met You - Sun & Moon Centric - Ten years have passed since you first brought Sun and Moon into your home (and to that extent, your life), and as it happens, today is your anniversary.

Unsteady On Your Feet - Moon Centric - Sleep deprivation can make you do crazy things — like stealing company merchandise on the clock and drinking unknown substances. Guess you'll have to "suffer" the consequences!

Hypothermic - Moon Centric - Your chance of survival looks bleak when you manage to get yourself locked in the walk-in freezer. Thankfully, there's a certain cold hearted animatronic out on a midnight stroll.

Let Your Heart Be Light - Moon & Sun Centric - December is a hard month and you're being worked to the bone. Good thing you have two sentient animatronics waiting at home to do the unthinkable - give you a very merry Christmas.

Squeeze My Hand - Moon Centric - Moon finds himself in worrying condition after an accident and is rushed to Parts and Services. He isn't eager to undergo the required surgery, but with you at his side he's able to find his courage.

Pining Here I Crumb - Sun & Moon Centric - You're still getting used to having Sun and Moon in your home after the fire. It can get a little overwhelming; but today you make cookies, and that's enough.

Two Times Moon Apologizes (and one time he doesn’t) - Moon Centric - Ever wonder what it was like before the virus took control? What if you were there when it happened? What if you had the chance to help? What if you were still just a little too late?

Weathering the Storm - Eclipse Centric - Life has gotten to you lately. You weather the storm together.

Quiet Comforts - Sun & Moon Centric - You're having a rough week and none of Sun's attempts to lift your spirits are working. Moon has his own idea of how to help.

All Tied Up With Nowhere to Go - Sun Centric - Sun gets himself into quite the bind — literally. Hopefully you can help him out before that darn bug escapes the daycare!

Please Leave the Light On When You Go - Sun Centric (no y/n) - A character study of Sun and his reaction to the daycare closing, and remaining closed.

Left Unspoken - Sun & Moon Centric - It's been a year since you last spoke with them, and you're still not ready to accept how things ended. Your apology comes too little, too late.

I Know the Meaning of the Words Ever After - Moon & Sun Centric - This house is full of ghosts.

Keep Your Friends Close - Sun & Moon Centric - (Pirate AU) As captain, you run your ship with an iron fist, but you couldn't do it without the help of your two quartermasters. They've been acting stranger than usual as of late, though, and you can't help but wonder if they're hiding something from you.

Second Chances - Moon Centric - You and Moon get off on the wrong foot right from the start, but you'll have to learn to understand each other eventually.

Series/Connected Oneshots

Lost in Transmission - Eclipse Centric - What would you do if an enormous, celestial cryptid came pouring out of your television screen one night? If the old VHS tape you bought without disregard actually contained something much more profound - and horrific, to boot. Would you run? Would you scream?Would you love them back? - 1 / 2 / 3

Dead Mall Dare: The Golden Years - Sun & Moon Centric (no y/n) - A collection of oneshots from the Dead Mall Dare au that take place before the main fic, when the mall was still in operation. - 1 / 2 / 3

#drabbles #I'm SURE that I'm missing a couple #but I scoured my entire drabbles tag so. fingers crossed #I'll try to remember to update this whenever I write something new #long post

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ilonii · 1 month ago

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Choso who goes absolutely feral the first time you let him hit it raw.

Not a fan of birth control and advocate for not having kids unless your married, you couldn’t really afford to risk not using some sort of protection, in this case. Condoms.

However, you recently decided it was time to invest in Nexplanon. So, after the surgery, and three grueling months of non-stop spotting, you finally decided it was time to reward Choso for being such a kind and understanding boyfriend.

“F-fuck Cho, slow down” He had been going at an impossible pace for the past 10 minutes, and wouldn’t let up.

His constant brushing of the spongy spot deep within your walls was beginning to drive your crazy. It was mind numbing pleasure that wouldn’t relent. Any longer and you’d be cumming for the third time tonight.

“I can’t. Too good” And boy was he telling the truth. Choso had never felt anything like this before. So tight, so warm, so wet. It was everything he managed and more. All he could think about was burying himself as deep as possible. Chasing a high like he’d never seen before.

“So wet, so warm”

“Choso please I don’t wanna cum yet”

“Go ahead, it won’t make me stop” His words clearly had an effect on you. Every time he spoke, he could feel you tighten around him. You were so worried about you cumming again, you failed to realize just how much this was affecting him too. At this rate Choso might just finish before you.

“Need to feel you deeper”

He now had you in the meanest mating press. Your knees were nearly digging into your chest, his forehead touching yours, and his cock inching further into your sopping cunt. He was impossibly deep you could almost feel it in your chest.

“Cho oh my god, I can’t I can’t”

“You can and you will” “Don’t give up on me now, be a good girl and take it how I taught you”

“Please, please”

“Please what”

“Please I wanna cum”

“Then do it” The feeling that had been slowly building for the last 20 minutes was finally tipping over the edge. White hot pleasure coursing through your veins. An irreparable feeling of ecstasy that had you throwing your head back and stars clouding your vision.

“C-cho”

“I’m hear baby, you’re doing so good. Gonna let me fill you up now? Gonna milk my cock real good?” His thrust got faster if that was even possible. He was not plowing you into the mattress, hips stuttering with his orgasm swiftly approaching. It was only a matter of time before his milky white cum was decorating your walls.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck”

“Chooo, so full”

He pulled out, his cum leaking from your gushing hole bit by bit. But he couldn’t just it go to waste. He scooped the escaping liquid with his fingers, and slowly shoved it back in, restuffing your hole with all the creamy goodness it let escape.

“Cmon baby, you’re supposed to keep everything I give you in this greedy hole. You know better than let anything slip”

“I’m sorry”

“It’s alright, looks like I’m just gonna have to give you some more”

You could feel him begin to stiffen against your thigh.

Boy were you in for a hell of a night.

border by @carnage-cathedral

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jjk x y/n #choso kamo #choso x reader #choso smut #jjk choso #choso kamo x reader

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lostintheuniverseslies · 12 days ago

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Part 1 • Part 2

This was only supposed to be one part but y’all’s feedback has me excited to write more.

He doesn’t remember ordering the Uber, getting into the car, or the drive to the hospital. All he can think about is Evan. Dying.

Evan. Alone.

Evan. Thinking he wasn’t the person Tommy was meant to spend his life with. Because of course, he didn’t. Tommy walked away like a coward.

He shouldn’t go to the hospital. He broke up with Evan. They’ve been apart for almost three months. He doesn’t have a right to be here. Doesn’t have a right to worry. Doesn’t have a right to sit with the people who didn’t leave Evan.

But he needs to make sure Evan is okay. He needs to hear it from a doctor, needs to see Evan with his own eyes—just once—to confirm he’s alive.

And then he can walk away.

Maybe.

But he doubts he will. Not after spending the entire minute and thirty seconds of that voicemail believing Evan was already gone.

The hospital is a blur. He barely registers thanking the Uber driver, taking the elevator up to the floor Howie texted him. He has only a moment to doubt his place here before Maddie spots him. She’s up from her chair in an instant, arms outstretched.

He expects her to be angry, to tell him to leave. But she wraps her arms around him instead, holding him tight.

And Tommy doesn’t hesitate. He holds on just as tightly, feels her body shake with silent sobs, and it unravels him all over again.

He’s never been good at showing emotions. His father, the army, Gerrard—all taught him that feelings were weaknesses. Being a boy meant sucking it up. Being a man meant swallowing it down.

It took a long time to unlearn that. But crying? That was something he only did in the shower, late into the night, where no one could see. No one could hear.

But today, he cried in his garage. And now, he’s crying in Maddie’s arms.

And he knows—if Evan dies, it will break him into pieces he’ll never be able to repair.

The breakup was supposed to protect him. Self-preservation.

But it meant absolutely fucking nothing when he knows, deep down, he was completely gone on Evan Buckley the moment he asked for a second chance over coffee.

“Do they know what happened?” Tommy asks when they pull apart.

Howie steps in, hugging him without hesitation and Tommy is too emotionally frayed to be surprised.

“I called him to see if he could pick something up on his way over for dinner tonight,” Maddie says, voice tight. “A paramedic answered. She told me he was hit by a car while saving a little girl.”

Despite everything, pride swells in Tommy’s chest.

Of course Evan would throw himself in front of danger for someone without thinking about the outcome.

“Is she okay?” Tommy asks.

“As far as I know,” Maddie answers.

“And Evan’s injuries?”

Maddie exhales shakily. “His surgeon just updated us. He’s stable enough for surgery but still critical. They’re trying to control the internal bleeding first. It could take three or four hours. The CT scan didn’t show any brain swelling, which is good. But that’s all we know right now.”

Tommy nods. None if it settles him.

Yes, Evan is in surgery.

Yes, Evan is stable enough to be operated on.

But people still die in surgery.

Maddie takes his hand, guiding him to sit and she doesn’t let him go. He doesn’t mind. It keeps him tethered. Keeps him from running.

He’s so fucking sick of running.

If Evan makes it through this, if he meant what he said on that voicemail, Tommy will never run from him again.

Within the hour, everyone who loves Evan arrives.

Bobby. Athena. Eddie. Hen. Karen.

Tommy feels like a fraud. Like he doesn’t deserve to be here. He can’t lift his head. Can’t meet their eyes. If he does, he might see them agree.

Maddie squeezes his hand. “You okay?” she asks, reading his turmoil instantly.

Something compels him to tell the truth.

“No.” His voice cracks. “What right do I have to be here? I left him.”

The words sit heavy between them, and when he finally looks up, Maddie is already watching him. Her eyes are still watery but she doesn’t look at him with pity.

“Wanna know a secret?” She asks.

The shift in topic throws him, but he nods hesitantly.

“I left him once too. Not just once but twice,” she admits.

Tommy stares. She says it like a confession. Like she knows exactly what he’s feeling.

“But I came back,” Maddie continues. “And he forgave me.” A small, knowing smile tugs at her lips. “Because Buck has a big heart, and he forgives. He’ll forgive you, too.”

Tommy lets out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “It’s different. You’re his sister.”

“And you’re the love of his life.”

That knocks the breath from his lungs. He makes a sound—something broken, wet, barely a laugh, mostly a sob. He doesn’t feel worthy of that title.

“He called me before help came,” Tommy whispers, voice thick. The waiting room goes quiet. He knows they’re all pretending not to listen. But he doesn’t care.

“He left a voicemail.” Tommy swipes a hand across his face, smudging away tears and grime, forgetting he didn’t clean up after changing the oil in his truck. “He called me.” His throat tightens as he struggles to make sense of it. “He was more worried about me being alone than the fact that he was dying. I don’t understand. I left, Maddie. And he called me.” He shakes his head, barely breathing through it. “I don’t deserve it.”

Maddie doesn’t argue. She just tilts her head slightly, searching his face. “Why?”

The question knocks him off balance. He blinks at her. “What?”

“Why don’t you deserve it?” She repeats, unwavering. “Why don’t you deserve to be here for him? To love him? Because you left?” Her voice remains calm, measured. “Did you leave him because you didn’t love him?”

“No. God, no. I love him.” The words come out rough, desperate. “I love him with everything I have.”

“Then why?”

“Because I’m not worth it.” The confession tears out of him, raw and unfiltered.

Maddie’s gaze remains steady as she asks, “Shouldn’t that be for him to decide?”

The question shouldn’t hit him as hard as it does.

“If he told you he wasn’t worth loving, would you agree?”

“God, no.”

“Then why is it different when it’s you?”

Tommy doesn’t have an answer.

Maddie lets the silence settle for a beat before glancing around the room. “Look around,” she says. “Every single person here has made mistakes. But we fought for the people we love. We didn’t let the mistakes be the end of the story.”

Tommy swallows hard, his chest tight.

“Relationships aren’t mean to be easy every single day. You think Bobby and Athena never struggled?” She continues. “You think Hen and Karen haven’t had their battles? Me and Howie? I left him. I left him and Jee-Yun.”

Tommy blinks at her. He didn’t know that. But maybe that was the point—Maddie’s history wasn’t Evan’s to tell.

“When we’re scared, we run,” Maddie says, voice gentler now. “But people like Howie and Buck? They don’t keep that as a weapon to use against us. They remind us—every single day—of all the reasons we should stay. Until we stop wondering if running would be better.” She squeezes his hand again. “You just have to give him the chance.”

Tommy closes his eyes, exhaling shakily.

Maybe, just maybe, he can.

Hour Four: They’ve stopped the lung bleeding and removed his spleen.

Hour Six: Tommy stretches his legs and Eddie follows. He gives Tommy a hug and they don’t have to exchange any words because the pain is clear on both of their faces.

Hour Eight: Athena checks for updates on the hit-and-run.

Hour Ten: Pelvic and arm surgery complete. ICU next. And Evan’s family are allowed to visit him one by one.

Hour Seventeen: Tommy stands outside his room.

It feels like a nightmare. Machines help Evan breathe and there are wires everywhere. He doesn’t want to enter but he has something to say.

He steps inside. Takes Evan’s hand. Already feels tears welling again.

“I love you so much, sweetheart,” he whispers, voice thick. “I need you to come back to me. Please.”

One more?

Final part

#BuckTommy #Tommy Kinard #Evan Buckley #Drabble

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