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MDNI 🌶️ a side of Zayne he keeps hidden most of the time, but you look so gorgeous in his shirt, with messy hair, and he just can't hold back anymore
—⊹ based on this request
Perhaps you weren’t aware to the full extent of the effect you had on Zayne. A man like him was hard to truly captivate at times, but it was never a problem when it came to you.
Or maybe it was, because for days now, you could feel his eyes on you, quiet and attentive, searching for you in every room he entered, his eyes moving on their own accord in searching for the one thing that he couldn’t keep away from.
You.
Like gravity pulling him in, he surrendered willingly. His soft hazel eyes traced your features in the mirror every morning for the past week as you got ready for work. You felt them caress your face when you slept in his warm embrace. Felt the way he couldn’t stop looking, even when his ears betrayed him to you, growing a beautiful shade of pink that made his eyes stand out even more.
Warm pools of hazel-honey staring back at you every time, as if he was entranced by you no matter how much of a mess you looked or felt like.
And you were a mess, wearing one of his shirts, slouching on the couch with a leg beneath you and your chin propped on the other knee as you enjoyed some cool chocolate ice-cream dessert he had brought tonight on his way home from the hospital.
You thought he was eyeing your sweet treat, by the intense gaze he wore. So you just raised an eyebrow at him, ready to defend your cup of ice-cream from man in front of you.
“Why are you looking at me so intensely, Zayne? In fear of being a bad girlfriend, I’ll just have you know I’m not sharing this with you.” A cute pout formed on your lips as you moved the cup further away from him.
Zayne, who was now sitting beside you on the couch and working on loosening his tie, just smiled at you in a way that had you feeling like he was up to something. But before you could say more, his hand reached forward, brushing a strand of loose hair from your cheek while his thumb caressed the corner of your mouth.
You’d seen that smile before, the subtle quirk of his lips that signaled a forthcoming act of charming subterfuge. Your immediate thought was that he was going to try and guilt-trip you into sharing, perhaps with a pointed comment about how tired he was, coming straight from the operating room and needing a little sweetness to unwind. You braced yourself, tightening your grip on the ice cream, ready to counter his strategic maneuvers. After all, you knew his playful tactics almost as well as you knew the comfort of his embrace.
What you didn’t expect was the deliberate languidness of his movements, the almost maddening slowness with which his thumb lingered, wiping away a smear of chocolate you hadn’t even realized was there. His eyes, those captivating pools of hazel-gold, held yours, silently challenging you to look away.
“You have a little something right here,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through the couch, sending a shiver through you despite the coolness of your treat. He didn’t move away, didn’t release eye contact, making the simple act feel incredibly intimate. “And for the record, I wasn’t looking at your ice cream.”
You felt a blush creep up your neck. Of course he wasn’t. It was always you, coming on top of all the sweets in the world, none of them could get that look in his eyes. You knew that, yet a part of you was still surprised by the sheer intensity of his focus. It made your heart skip a beat, a fluttering sensation that had little to do with the sugar rush from your dessert. In fact, it was all because of the hunger lingering in his eyes as he stared right at your soft lips.
You tried to feign nonchalance, swallowing a spoonful of ice cream a little too quickly. “Oh,” you managed, your voice barely a whisper. “Right. Sorry.”
He chuckled softly beside you, a warm melodic sound that always melted your defenses. “No need to apologize, darling.” The endearment, spoken with such casual ease, always sent a fresh wave of warmth through you. “Though I wouldn’t have minded a taste, if only to prove that yours isn’t quite as sweet as mine would be.”
A playful glint entered his beautiful eyes, a hint of the teasing wit that most people never got to see, reserved only for you. You’d thought you’d won, that your valiant defense of your chocolate ice cream cup had intimidated the great Zayne Li, cardiac surgeon extraordinaire.
You should have known better. He was never truly deterred.
After he’d reached and put the ice cream cup down, his hands had found their way back to you, one cupping the back of your head, fingers threading through your messy hair, and the other tracing a slow path from your hip up your side. He pulled you closer until you were half sprawled across his lap, the soft fabric of his shirt a comforting weight against your skin. The heat emanating from him seeped into your bones, a familiar warmth that always made you feel safe, cherished.
“Tell me again,” he murmured against your lips, his voice gone rough and warm, “about how you’re a mess and I shouldn’t be looking at you like you’re the most beautiful woman I have the priviledge of admiring however much I want.”
There was a playful challenge in his tone, a hint of that witty humor he reserved for you, the one he delivered with a straight face that always made you blush. And oh, you couldn’t even say it. You’d forgotten the entire argument, honestly. Because his soft hazel eyes were too close now, too dark with affection, and they melted away any coherent thought you might have had. The only response you could manage was a soft sigh against his neck.
He smiled against your mouth like he knew, like he’d planned it precisely like this on his way home, to get you in his lap and sighing in defeat into his neck. His lips moved from yours, trailing a path along your jawline, down to your neck. You shivered, and he seemed to lean into it, a low hum rumbling in his chest that meant he was liking your little reactions.
“I believe you’re unaware,” he whispered against your pulse point, his voice a low thrum that sent vibrations through you, “of how intoxicating you are to me, darling. Especially when you’re like this. Relaxed, soft, and completely yourself.”
He loved seeing you comfortable and uninhibited, away from the demands of work or social niceties. He saw the real you, the one that made his carefully constructed world spin just a little bit off its axis. That’s what you came to understand after all this time spent together, and it made your heart skip every time you remembered that.
His fingers came up to gently brush a stray strand of hair behind your ear, his touch featherlight and tender that got you melting into his embrace. Then his hand moved lower, settling on your bare shoulder where his shirt had slipped down when you circled your arms around his neck. His thumb traced the curve of your collarbone, a careful movement that made your breath catch and your heart pount faster, almost embarrasingly so.
“Every time I see you,” he confessed, pulling back just enough to look into your eyes, his gaze steady and intense as he spoke, “it’s like the world recalibrates. My heart...it never quite settles, not when you’re around. Especially not when you’re looking so innocent yet so utterly tempting.”
A faint blush, that lovely pink, crept up his neck and tinted the tips of his ears, a silent betrayal of his composed exterior. It was a stark contrast to his usual calm demeanor, a testament to the profound effect you had on him.
You couldn’t help but blush harder, the warmth spreading through you like wildfire. To be perceived with such intensity, such adoration, was overwhelming and exhilarating all at once. He was so openly sincere, so unguarded in these moments, and it cracked open something warm and vulnerable inside you whenever he let you see this part of himself. Raw and honest and so very open.
A quiet groan escaped him as his eyes lingered on the rosy flush spreading across your cheeks. His brow furrowed slightly, a silent battle playing out in his expression, a push and pull between wanting to savor the moment and desiring more.
“You have no idea,” he said again, his voice a little husky this time, “how much I love you. How much I... want you.” His gaze was firm now, holding yours and making it impossible to look away. There was no teasing left, just raw and honest devotion underneath all that hunger that seemed to consume him inside out.
His lips claimed yours again, this time with a deeper urgency that before, a quiet desperation that made your own heart pound in your ears as you tried to match his pace. It was a sensual kiss, a slow one that promised more, a delicious exploration that had you twining your fingers into the short, dark hair at his nape. That earned a deeper groan from him, a rich vibrating sound against your mouth that echoed through your entire body and had your mind spin. He pulled you even closer, if that was possible, leaving no space between you.
You hummed softly in response, a low moan that you barely recognized as your own as his tongue sought yours, tasting the lingering sweetness of the chocolate ice cream. He devoured it and you with a slow pace that made every sensation heightened. You all but arched into him, seeking more of his warmth, more of his strength, needing to feel him.
When he finally broke the kiss, it was with a reluctant sigh, his forehead still resting against yours. His eyes, now a deeper, richer hazel, stared into yours, heavy-lidded with desire and something tender and deeply possessive. It was the look of a man who had found his most treasured possession, and that same look had your stomach swooping.
“Still not enough,” he breathed over your wet lips, a playful smirk twisting his lips as he saw the dazed expression on your face. He reached for the ice cream cup on the coffee table, scooping a generous dollop with the spoon. Before you could react, he brought it to your lips, tempting you.
“Open up, sweetheart,” he murmured roughly, his eyes glinting with mischief.
You parted your lips without thinking, and he slid the cold, creamy sweetness into your mouth, which got you sighing at the difference in temperature from his hot mouth to the cold, pleasurable feeling of the melting ice cream. Then, without a moment’s hesitation, he kissed you again, his tongue pushing past your lips and into the coldness of your mouth like he’d been planning this exact thing the entire car ride home. You moaned into the kiss, a soft choked sound as the icy sweet mingled with the fiery warmth of his kiss.
He pulled back after a few moments when he felt you out of breath, a soft groan escaping him as his eyes kept closed, savoring the taste and sensation. “Love, you drive me insane,” he whispered against your lips. “Completely, utterly insane.”
You could only manage a soft whimper, your hands moving to grip the lapels of his vest, holding on tight.
He shifted under you, settling you more firmly against him, his arm wrapping securely around your waist. His other hand moved to cup your cheek, his thumb gently caressing your skin. The rhythm of his heartbeat a steady cadence against your ear, a reassuring thrum that grounded you. He wasn’t rushing you, not in the slightest, just holding you there, allowing the lingering heat of the moment to slowly dissipate and then build once more.
“You’re too much sometimes, Zayne. When you say things like that to me, and then kiss me like that…” you finally managed, your voice still a little breathless.
“And you’re not enough,” he countered, the words a soft brush against your temple as he leaned in to press another light kiss there. “Never enough for me to simply look away.”
He moved his hand from your cheek, tracing the line of your collarbone again, his touch deliberate and worshipful. The simple act of his touch spoke volumes, telling you a story of adoration and unwavering desire. It was a tangible testament to his earlier confession, a physical commitment to the depth of his feelings.
He leaned back, his eyes searching yours, a silent question passing between you. He wasn’t going to push, not unless you wanted him to. That was Zayne—always respectful, always attuned to your unspoken cues, even when he was clearly, irrevocably affected by you. The hint of a question in his gaze and a quiet invitation hung in the air between you, heavy and soft and utterly captivating.
You were beyond surprised, even with all the time you’d spent together, by the sudden intensity of his confession, paired with the way his lips were now diligently exploring the sensitive skin of your neck. A delicious shiver coursed through you, pooling low and warm in your belly. You wanted to quicken the pace, to ignite the simmering heat between you, but Zayne held you firmly, gently pulling you even closer until you were molded against his hard frame. His mouth returned to yours, claiming it deeply, his tongue dancing with yours in a passionate rhythm that echoed the pounding in your veins. The world narrowed to just the two of you, consumed by the burning desire he unleashed with every touch and every kiss.
He drew back just enough to press another soft kiss to your temple, his breath warm against your skin as he began to murmur more dangerous words to you, his voice a low raspy confession that sent shivers through your entire being.
“It’s time I confess to you, love,” his lips brushed your ear with each word, making your skin tingle with every warm breath that followed his honeyed words, “the effect you have on me. Every single day, whether I’m at Akso Hospital, in a meeting, performing a delicate surgery… you’re there. Always there, a permanent thought beneath everything else, a delicious distraction I can’t shake.”
You could feel the rumbling of his chest against yours with every rasped word he gave you, a soft vibration that echoed the frantic beat of your own heart. Your hands, still tangled in his short dark hair, tightened their grip as he continued, his voice growing even more tender.
“I see your smile light up every room you enter, even when I’m miles away, I can’t shake the image off. I think of your beautiful eyes, and my own heart, the one I mend in others, somehow races faster. Honestly,” he let out a soft, self-deprecating chuckle that vibrated against your throat, “I think I might need a consultation myself, for this… relentless preoccupation.”
His lips found the hollow of your throat, pressing a lingering kiss there, his tongue tracing a warm, damp path that had you arching your neck, silently begging for more. He subtly shifted beneath you, his body a solid comforting presence against your own, making you acutely aware of his rising arousal.
“And when I come home, weary from the day, and I find you like this,” he whispered against your skin, his voice thick with emotion, “relaxed, half-sprawled on my couch or my bed, in my clothes, just being yourself, waiting for me… it’s everything I’ve ever truly wished for. It genuinely makes everything else fade away until only you remain.”
You felt a deep flush spread across your chest and down between your legs as he continued, his words painting a picture of your intimate life that you hadn’t fully realized he cherished so deeply. His touch was worshipful, tender as his fingers gently traced the line of your collarbone, moving with such delicateness that spoke volumes. You could feel the delicious pressure between your thighs intensify, a direct response to his slow, deliberate torment.
“And yes,” he admitted with a low groan that pulled a quiet moan from your own lips, his voice a little rougher now, betraying the tight control he held until now, “when I see you like this, looking all innocent and soft in my shirt, with that little pout you get after enjoying your ice cream…”
His hand moved lower, settling gently on your hip, his thumb stroking your skin. You could feel the undeniable evidence of his desire pressing against your inner thigh, a firm and very insistent warmth that had your breath catching in your throat and mouth watering. You were already slick, your panties undeniably damp, a testament to his potent effect. “I know I shouldn’t be so… affected. Especially not at the end of a long day when my mind should be on rest.”
He pulled back slightly, his hazel eyes, now dark and clouded with raw desire, locked onto yours. A faint, almost imperceptible tremor ran through him.
“But to be perfectly honest, love,” he confessed, the words a husky whisper that vibrated deep within you, stripping away any pretense of control, “my body responds every time. Every single time I see you like this, looking so delicious and utterly perfect in my arms. And even though I beat myself over it sometimes, trying to be the steady, composed Zayne for you, I can’t lie. Because it’s you who gets me to this point. Always you. And right now, darling, I want nothing more than to peel that shirt from your shoulders and taste every inch of you, like you’re the sweetest dessert I’ve ever craved.”
The sincerity in his gaze followed by the quiet desperation underlying his words, left you speechless. Your mind spun, a delightful chaos of surprise and overwhelming affection surging through you.
You knew he loved you, but to hear him articulate it with such raw, uninhibited honesty, especially about the physical intensity of his feelings, was intoxicating. You could only manage a soft whimper, your hands finding their way to grip the lapels of his vest, holding on tight as he settled you more firmly against him, letting you feel the full, undeniable heat of his desire for you.
Why Zayne would be the most likely to get you pregnant by accident: A thesis by Soul
⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆Yes I’m taking this dead serious and you should too… I’m kidding I just think this is funny I wasn’t expecting this much of a reaction to the initial post so now here we are… enjoy my thoughts :)
He's very in tune with your body, including your cycle.
Maybe too in tune with it. He knows your cycle like the back of his hand, knows it like all the cardiology textbooks he memorized in grad school. Hell, he can tell where you are in your cycle simply by the way you smell, by the way you taste... you get my point.
Zayne knowing you this well is touching, honestly. But it's also his biggest kryptonite because god dammit he just can't resist you. Especially when he knows you're ovulating.
2. He prefers taking preventative measures rather than you taking preventative measures.
Zayne knows how harmful birth control can be to your body. The pill has a side effect pamphlet that could double as a queen size blanket. An IUD is a painful insertion process even if you get pain meds. They mess with your hormones, with your cycle, can cause more issues than benefits in his opinion. It's just not worth it.
While he is more than willing to get a vasectomy for you - something that is reversible for when the time comes that you do actually plan to try for children - you keep telling him that condoms are more than effective and it's not worth the recovery process at this point... ;)
3. Zayne is very easily persuaded by you in the heat of the moment.
If you didn't catch my drift from above... you are very convincing when asking Zayne to take the condom off and fuck you raw.
He won't do it before sex, no he won't do it before or during foreplay either. But let him slip inside, let him feel how soft and warm you are... or at least let him try because that oh-so-thin layer of latex his holding him back from so much... and then try asking... he'll slip it off in a heartbeat. Consequences be damned... he'll pull out... or at least try.
4. Zayne's diet and life style provide him with pretty healthy swimmers... even with his sweets intake.
Zayne eats good, works out, tries his hardest to get enough sleep. All because of you, all for you. He now treats his body with care, even though he can't resist those damn macaroons, his healthy habits tend to balance out his unstoppable sweet tooth. Making the overall quality of his sperm good, strong, and... well... eager.
5. Zayne has an incredibly high sex drive.
Listen... he's pretty insatiable. The more frequently you do it... the higher the risk... and I mean the second you convince him to take the condom off he is not slipping a new one on for the next round... rounds.
In conclusion, Zayne is the most careful among all the love interests. He is so precise with everything he does that it’s almost… bound to happen? Listen, fate has never been outwardly kind to this man so the irony would just be comical at this point. Not that he’d be upset!
Zayne would love to be a dad, so if it happened a little ahead of schedule? He’d welcome them with open arms.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Crying pulls Zayne from his laptop, the sound tugging at his heart as it always does. He knows you're with the baby, but he figures it wouldn't hurt to check on the two of you.
"I know, I know." You rock her gently, though it doesn't seem to do much. She cries even louder and the sound makes you wince, trying to grab her bottle.
"Here, I'll take her." Zayne isn't asking as much as he is telling, already lifting the crying baby from your hold. She quiets just a little, confused, but goes back to her wailing once she gets settled in Zayne's arms. You frown, smoothing down your hair.
"I'll get her bottle. It should only take a minute and then you can get back to work." He can see the stress in your eyes as you warm the bottle, the way the crying ignites the biological part of you that aches to stop it.
"I can take care of it. You should go eat something, maybe take a bath too." His offer makes you frown more, hesitating.
"You have work to do. It's not a big deal, I can do it." The bottle warmer beeps and Zayne beats you to it.
"I want to do it. Go relax, okay? There's food for you in the fridge, you just have to heat it up." He presses a quick kiss to your lips, one that he knows will relax you just enough to agree.
He shuts the door of his office behind him, hoping it will muffle the crying.
"You're hungry, yeah? Here you go." The bottle instantly soothes her, drinking it happily as he sits down at his desk. Unfortunately, he quickly realizes that feeding her is a two handed job, and he needs both to finish these charts.
She fits comfortably in his lap, snuggled in her blanket. He supports her head on his arm, even managing to balance the bottle with his jaw.
He accomplishes a whole paragraph before abandoning his laptop. The charts can be done anytime, but he has much more pressing matters to attend to.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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So I'm reading a fanfic that is ZayneMC AU of current timeline. They started to write MC going through the grief of the explosion and I'm over here feeling like there's a small bandaid being applied to apart of me that I didn't know existed.
It might be because Zayne is my bias or maybe I needed someone like Zayne in my life 4 years ago. Not sure, but it's like a small blam has been applied imagining having a Zayne to help me through one of the toughest moments in my life. So yeah. There's that.
areudirty
yousharknotpass
amandla
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