guided through waterfalls
☆ +2.5k words ☆ zayne x f!reader ☆
what starts as joking about online discourse turns into zayne guiding your body towards something you previously thought to be 'overrated'
cw/tags: zayne x f!reader, smut, established relationship, fingering, teasing, edging (f!receiving), piv, squirt, overstim if you squint, creampie, tldr: zayne gently guides you to squirt on his cock! yum!, petnames including good girl a few times
bunnie's notes 📝: This is the second-ever fic I've written for Zayne so please go easy on me! I've been working on this for an embarrassing amount of time.
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☃️ for zayne
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🐟 for rafayel (also in future)
🌟 for xavier (also a maybe in future)
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You were scrolling on your phone while cuddling next to Zayne, when a particular post piqued your attention. You snickered as you scrolled through comments and replies, the conversation topic seeming both too crass and silly for the seriousness people were approaching it with.
“What's so funny? What are you reading?” Zayne turned away from his book to get a look at your phone, his breath tickling your cheek as you turned the phone over with a quick flip.
He chuckled. “Ah, I see. Keeping secrets are we?”
“It's dumb, I didn't want to harm your innocent eyes.”
He practically snorted at that. “My love, I'm a doctor. You'd be surprised by how little innocence these eyes have left, I believe.”
You glanced at him with a devilish expression crossing your face before you flipped over your phone again. You cleared your throat dramatically.
“Ahem. SheetDemon696 says: 'I don't care if squirt is piss, I think it's yummy.' What do you think, Dr. Zayne?"
You looked at him, holding back laughter as the corner of his lips twitched, the tops of his ears going slightly red.
"It's a natural reaction that's a sign of a woman's relaxation during pleasure. I think there's too much conversation over what it's made of, and it only contributes to further stigma. My ears and eyes are not harmed." He tapped you playfully on the nose.
You pouted. Nothing ever shook him, and it was actually annoying. "One time on a first date a guy said that he thought it was disgusting when his previous girlfriend did it. I don't think I've ever felt like I was going to, and I wouldn't want to, anyway. Seems overrated to be honest."
Zayne frowned. "This man said that on a first date?"
"It also happened to be the last one."
Zayne’s frown softened into something else as his hand cupped your cheek, thumb stroking lightly across your skin.
“Well,” he murmured, leaning close until his lips brushed yours in the barest tease of a kiss, “if you truly believe it’s overrated… there’s no reason to wonder.”
Your breath hitched as he closed the distance, pressing a slow, deliberate kiss to your mouth. His book was abandoned on the nightstand with a careless flick of his wrist, and his other hand slid down the line of your throat to your waist, pulling you against him. The warmth of his body was grounding, but the way his lips moved against yours—confident, coaxing—sent sparks racing low in your stomach.
You parted for him on a sigh, and he deepened the kiss, tongue tracing yours with an intimacy that made you shiver. He pulled back only enough to look at you, his gaze steady but full of heat.
“But if you’d like to know… if you want me to show you what it feels like… I could.” His words were soft, patient, even as his fingers were already tugging at the hem of your pajama bottoms, slipping beneath the fabric to stroke at your hip.
Your laugh was nervous, breathless. “You always sound like you’re proposing a study.”
“That’s because I’d take my time,” he said, kissing along your jaw now, down to the curve of your throat. His voice was low, almost a growl as his teeth grazed your skin. “Gentle. Thorough. You’d know exactly what your body is capable of. And if at any point you still thought it was overrated…” He nipped lightly, then soothed the spot with his tongue. “…we’d stop. No need to chase something you don’t want.”
Your fingers twisted in his shirt, tugging him closer as your body betrayed your words. “You’re very sure of yourself, Dr. Zayne.”
“Confident,” he corrected, lips brushing your collarbone as his hand finally eased your pajama bottoms lower, just enough to slip his palm beneath and cup you with a deliberate slowness that made your thighs tremble. “But only because I know how to listen. To you. To your body. To learn. You tell me when to stop.”
The air between you felt thick, charged. His kisses trailed lower, his fingers teasing at the edge of your panties, and you found yourself arching into him despite your earlier protest. He smirked against your skin, patient even as you writhed.
“I have no expectations, I will just make you feel good, yes?”
“Please.”
Zayne’s fingers traced slow circles, every touch measured, deliberate. He kissed the corner of your mouth as you gasped, his voice a velvet murmur against your lips. “That’s it… breathe with me. You’re so sensitive, so eager already. Beautiful.”
When your hips arched, seeking more, he chuckled low, brushing the pad of his thumb just lightly enough to make you whimper. “Always reaching for me. I love how your body speaks even when you don’t.” His nose grazed your cheek, warm and grounding.
He caught your hand gently, guiding it to his chest first, over the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. “Do you feel that? Just for you.” Then he slid your palm lower, over his stomach, down until you brushed the hard line beneath his waistband. His eyes stayed on yours, dark and steady. “Good… touch me. I want you to know what you do to me.”
Your fingers trembled as you obeyed, and his groan was immediate, unrestrained.
“Perfect,” he praised, breath catching. “Every little brush of your hand, it drives me mad. You don’t even realize the power you have.”
His own touch never faltered, slow circles turning into a teasing flick, then easing away, only to return again. “Stay with me,” he whispered, his forehead pressing to yours. “Let me hear you. Every sound you make tells me where to go, how to love you.”
You whimpered as your grip on him tightened, and he gasped in turn, his voice breaking into a low growl of approval.
“Yes… just like that. Don’t stop. You’re incredible, my love.”
A moment of boldness washed over you as your impatience crested. You pulled his pajama pants down with his black boxers, his curved cock springing free. A choked sound punched out of him, surprised need crawling from his throat.
“You're so impatient. Do you think I will just give you what you want? All the time? Even when you don't behave?” He bit your neck at that point, smoothing over the spot with his tongue.
Even though that was what he said, you could tell you'd broken his defenses by the way the length of him slid against your folds, teasing at the entrance. You could tell by the way a near whimper from him harmonized with your needy moan when his tip just barely pushed through.
Zayne’s restraint was razor-thin as he pressed into you, inch by inch, his breath hot against your throat. His forehead dropped to your shoulder, and the quiet groan that escaped him vibrated through your chest. He held still for a moment, savoring the way your body clenched and stretched around him, then shifted, adjusting the angle of his hips with a surgeon’s precision.
“Tell me,” he whispered, voice rough, “where it feels the best.”
He withdrew slowly, almost painfully so, before sliding back in with a controlled thrust, his thumb settling against your clit in the same motion. The combination made your back arch, a gasp tearing free before you could stop it. He caught the sound with his mouth, kissing you hard, swallowing every trembling exhale as his thumb circled delicately, deliberately.
He rolled his hips again, slower this time, listening to the pitch of your moans, the quiver in your thighs. His focus was absolute, patient as he shifted slightly, deeper, testing different angles like he was mapping you inch by inch. Every change made your walls flutter around him, and his jaw tightened as he fought for control.
“There,” you gasped suddenly, your nails dragging down his back when he brushed a spot that made your vision spark.
Zayne’s lips curved against your neck, satisfaction radiating from him even as he drove himself deeper, pulling back just to hit that exact place again. His thumb pressed firmer against your clit in time with his thrusts, coaxing your body closer with every stroke.
“Good girl,” he praised, voice low and ragged as your walls gripped him harder. “That’s it… stay right there for me. I’ll take you apart piece by piece until you can’t think of anything else, you like that, yes?”
"Yes," you gasp out your breathless agreement, nodding pitifully as another wave of pleasure shook you too close.
His rhythm remained unhurried but devastating, each withdrawal slow and dragging, each push angled to find that sensitive spot again and again. With every pass, with every press of his thumb, heat coiled tighter inside you, your moans louder, more desperate.
Zayne nipped at your jawline, his own breath coming harder now. “You feel incredible. Why don't you let go, darling, you deserve it…”
Zayne bent your leg higher over his shoulder, his grip strong but careful as he drove into you with slow, deliberate thrusts. Each push was angled perfectly, his thumb never leaving your clit, pressure steady as he worked you closer and closer to the edge. You couldn't hold back the broken sounds spilling from your throat, every whimper and gasp echoing the rhythm of his movements.
He groaned with you, the sounds tangled together—your cries of need, his low hums of restraint. His hips rocked forward, then still just enough to keep you teetering, his cock pulsing inside as he murmured against your skin, breathless.
“Right there… do you feel how I’m hitting you? How your body keeps pulling me deeper?” His voice faltered into another rough moan as your walls clench down on him, forcing him to still, to edge you both.
Every time he felt you tighten, he slowed, his thrusts dragging out the unbearable tension, leaving you suspended with him. His forehead pressed to yours, his voice ragged.
“We’re right on the edge together… listen to us, love—every sound, every breath… feel how close you are”
When he moved again, it was with the same torturous precision, each thrust angled to keep you hovering, every cry from your lips answered by his own, both of you caught in the same endless spiral of need.
A surprised sound left your lips as he slightly changed your position, folding and tucking your legs against yourself, giving him a better shot at your sweet spot. It was all too much, but god, did it feel good.
Your back arched sharply as Zayne’s movements hit the perfect angle, his fingers digging into your thighs as he drove deeper, each thrust sending sparks of pleasure shooting straight through your core. Your legs were folded tightly, instinctively clamping around him, giving him even more control over the pace and depth. Your breaths came in ragged gasps, and another strangled, surprised sound slipped past your lips, betraying how overwhelming it all felt.
“Z-zayne… I’m gonna…” you gasped, your voice trembling under the intensity, your body quivering in anticipation.
“That’s right, my love,” he groaned, his own voice rough, laced with need as he picked up his pace. “I can feel it. You’re going to come for me, hm? Feels good, doesn’t it?”
The pressure he placed against your clit was maddeningly perfect, teasing you just enough to make the edges of your control crumble. Your body tightened, trembling uncontrollably as the dam finally broke. A shuddering moan ripped from you, your inner muscles clenching around him, and then suddenly—flooding warmth cascaded from your core, a gush that left your body trembling as it spilled over him.
Zayne’s own groan joined yours, low and unrestrained, his chest pressing against your back as he held you close, feeling every shiver, every pulse. He couldn't stop himself… The sight, the feeling, the way your body reacted so completely to him… too much. With a grunt, he drove deeper, slower now, savoring the moment, and let go inside you, the warmth of his release filling you and coating your soft walls as your body continued to spasm around him.
Your breath was ragged and mingling with his, the room filled with the wet, intimate sounds of your bodies entwined. You shivered again, rolling your hips slightly, trying to chase the lingering sparks that had you trembling, while Zayne kept his movements steady, slow enough to let you ride out every last pulse.
Even as your release faded, he didn't pull away, keeping you close, his forehead resting against yours, both of you panting heavily, sweat slick and hearts racing. His voice was husky, quiet but full of adoration as he murmured, “You see? There’s nothing to fear, nothing to be ashamed of. Just… us.”
Your lips parted, words failing you as you melted against him, mind and body still tingling from the intensity, the closeness, and the new, heady taste of pleasure you hadn’t believed could feel so overwhelming.
It seemed his point… was made.
The room was quiet save for the sound of your slowing breaths and the distant hum of the city beyond the window. Zayne shifted, his body still half-covering yours, his weight a warm, comforting anchor. He pressed a soft, lingering kiss to your damp forehead before he moved, but only just enough to reach for the box of tissues on the nightstand.
His movements were, as always, efficient and precise. But the tenderness in them was entirely new, reserved only for these moments. He cleaned you with a doctor’s careful hands and a lover’s devotion, his touch soft. A soft, clean tissue followed, dabbing gently between your thighs, his clinical focus carrying over into the aftercare of it all.
“There,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through your chest. “All taken care of.”
He disposed of the tissues and returned to your side to pull you firmly against him. Your back settled against his chest, his arm a solid band around your waist, holding you close. His lips found the shell of your ear.
“So,” he whispered, the word a warm puff of air that made you curl into him. “Still think it’s overrated?”
You let out a breathy, spent laugh, elbowing him weakly in the ribs. “You’re insufferable.”
You could feel the slight curve of his smile against your shoulder. “Perhaps. But I’m also thorough.” He nuzzled into your hair, his breath evening out. “And correct.”
A comfortable silence settled over you both. Your earlier skepticism felt like a distant memory, washed away by the undeniable, trembling truth of your own body, the dampness in your sheets. You traced idle patterns on his forearm, feeling the steady, strong beat of his heart against your back.
You turned in his arms to face him. In the faint light, his features were soft, his gaze unwavering. The usual cool composure was there, but it was warmed through with a deep, satisfied affection.
“You really weren’t… surprised? Or… I don’t know…” You wrinkle your nose, making a 'yuck' face.
“Disgusted?” he finished for you, a faint frown of disapproval crossing his face at the very notion. “My love, I was fascinated. And incredibly…” He leaned in, capturing your lips in a slow, searing kiss that tasted of promises. “…turned on,” he finished against your mouth.
He smoothed your hair back from your face, his thumb stroking your temple.
“Every part of you is a wonder to me. Especially the parts you’re still learning about yourself. It’s a privilege to be the one you explore them with.”
What luck, to be with a man who said things like this with such ease.
“Let's shower and change the sheets together,” you muttered into his lips as he kissed you, your heart swelling.
“Would this be something you'd like to do again later?” He asked, his eyes green and shining as they bore into yours, the intensity drawing a flush to your cheeks.
“... yes.”
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