"What if i were? What if i died right here of low blood sugar because my wife refused to let me have one macaron?” The seriousness in his voice might have fooled anyone but you.
"Stop being dramatic. You’re not going to die of hypoglycemia just by skipping one macaron right after your dental appointment.” With that said, you snatch the plate from his hands and head straight to the kitchen to hide them somewhere he can't find.
When you come back to the living room, you see Zayne lying on the couch with his eyes closed, body still. “Zayne, are you okay?”
A small smile appears on his face at your concerned voice and you roll your eyes. You can't believe what lengths this grown ass doctor with a prestigious medical degree could go for sweets.
You decide to play along and walk over to him, crouching down on the floor. "Oh no. Did the famous cardiac surgeon of Akso hospital dr Zayne Li die of hypoglycemia?” You fake mourn his pretend death. “What a tragedy! I have no choice but to check his heartbeat."
His smile grows bigger, awaiting your touch on his chest, instead he feels them on his crotch.
He grabs your hands off almost immediately and pulls you on top of him, looking equally amused as surprised. "Do you think my heart is located there?”
“It’s not my fault that they're both big and do a very good job in loving me. Anyone could be easily mistaken.” you say while tracing a huge penis on his chest.
He seemed pleased with your answer. “What if i propose a deal? You show me how much you love me by giving me one macaron and i dedicate both my big attributes to love you back?”
“You're trying to sell your body for one macaron?”
He innocently nods, and you giggle. "As tempting as your offer is, Zaynie." You pat his chest and climb off him. "I'm going to have to pass."
"So my wife would rather see me dead than let my teeth rot?”
You shake your head, he's acting like a man in withdrawal except his addiction is sweet and so is his suffering. You almost pity him, “Yes, no sweets for..... a month.”
His face falls comically and you turn away, already running before he becomes more dramatic.
♱⋅── ZAYNE is just a perfect husband, even more than they know.
♱⋅── MDNI just horny thoughts about zayne, once again.
"Zayne is such a wonderful husband."
The entire hospital knows of the mystery lady who seems to be the only thing more important to the man than surgery itself. The one who, if you ask about the cute homemade bento box or a cup of caramel coffee (with whipped cream on top) and a sticky note on the side, will say, “my wife got it for me,” with a smile that you might have thought impossible for him to make.
"Zayne is such a wonderful husband."
Even your apartment neighbors know him as such, the sweet elderly lady on your left always greeting him with a hug and a coy smile, asking what goodies he brought for you today. It’s his own fault, really, always bringing back a new bouquet of flowers, groceries he noticed you running out of, or a new pile of books you begged him to pick up from the library on his way over.
"Zayne is such a wonderful husband."
Especially in your eyes.
Especially when he’s been stuck in the hospital or on a god-forsaken business trip, pushed away from you for days (although he insists anything more than 24 hours is unbearable enough), and nothing can keep him from you once he returns.
He’s such a wonderful husband, especially when he has you on your back, gasping for air and mercy you don’t want as he forces your legs up higher, quivering thighs shoved against your chest.
It’s hot, too hot, and not even Zayne’s Evol can keep up, sweat making long black strands stick to his forehead, dripping down his neck and back as you claw against every ripping muscle there, incoherent, burning up from the inside as you beg for more and more and more.
You were a mess already, undone by an hour prior of tortuously delicate touching, Zayne’s tongue giving unwavering attention to your clit and nipples, building you up until you practically ripped his pants off and demanded that he be inside you. Not that he could ever refuse you.
Now you think it might have been a mistake, feeding an insatiable beast.
You’ve already cum on his fingers, and yet you feel something build again, a pressure that feels more like a complete loss of control, intense and overwhelming as you gasp into Zayne’s neck, scrambling to push him off even as his hips fuck into yours.
“Wait,” a moan, muffling yourself into your palm as Zayne’s thumb goes to your poor abused clit again, misreading your blabbering as an indication you’re close. “Wait! No, no, it’s not. It feels different, just–”
Finally, he freezes. Pulls out, and immediately drops to his stomach, large hands pushing your thighs to your shoulders, tongue already at your cunt. “Don’t stop me.”
The please at the end of his sentence is swallowed by a guttural groan as he tastes you again, rich, heady, intoxicating. His eyes, half-open and lovedrunk, were locked on your face, never leaving, drinking in your unraveling expressions with terrifying devotion as you writhe and arch desperately into his mouth.
“That’s it, love,” he leaves a kiss on your shaking legs before forcing you to hold them up yourself, his fingers immediately curl inside you. The horrible pressure in your stomach coils tighter, threatening to explode. “That’s it, good girl. You’re doing so good for me. Fuck.”
And then his tongue joins his fingers, gently circling your clit as his fingers mercilessly piston in and out of you until they hit a spot that makes you scream. Everything inside you convulses, a violent, helpless shudder that rips a delirious sob from your chest as something bursts. You feel it even as the world spins, thighs and ass slippery and filthy as the obscene sounds of skin on skin are magnified, covered only with Zayne’s low, guttural moans, swallowing everything you give him.
He can’t stop, panting against your cunt, leaving kisses and licking the spray of your release up your abdomen before he’s hovering atop you once more.
“Again.”
Zayne flips you over, hands bruising your ass and waist in ways that make your eyes roll back, a moan ripping from you as Zayne’s hand pulls on your hair, forcing your limp head off the pillow and back, lips meeting yours in a wet, sloppy kiss that has saliva and sweat running down your throat. You think you might be losing consciousness or maybe just your sanity, but gods, you never want this to stop.
"You do realize it's one in the morning, correct?" You tense all over, shoulders nearly scrunching to your ears as you flinch. The dim glow of your kitchen lights were effectively drowned out by the bright overhead LEDs that your husband just flicked on.
"Really? I had no idea." You manage to whimper out, no real bite in your words as you got caught red handed.
Slowly, you turn, six month pregnancy belly bumping the counter as you sheepishly look at Zayne. He's still standing in the doorway, visibly tired with his arms crossed over his broad chest.
"I assumed you had gotten up to pee, but when you didn't come back after five minutes? I figured you ended up down here." Beside you on the counter was a slice of five layer chocolate cake.
From your favorite bakery, of course. Zayne had bought you the whole cake since you had been craving it so deeply you shed tears. "Don't blame me!" Your fork was still clutched in your grasp. "Blame your daughter! She's already inherited your sweet tooth."
Your hand smoothed over your stomach; your daughter's kicking had been what initially woke you. In turn, you realized how hungry you were for the cake you knew was sitting in your fridge. "It's not an excuse either, Zayne! I... I was hungry."
You feel your lower lip wobble, pregnancy hormones screwing with your emotions big time. The scolding act he had presented immediately faded, finally crossing the little distance to pull you into a near bone crushing hug. "M'sorry if I startled you, my love."
He felt you sniffle, face buried in his chest as he swayed with you. "I didn't mean to make you cry, either. You can eat cake whenever you are hungry, doesn't matter the time of the day. If our baby wants her mommy to eat, then she needs to eat." He kissed the top of your head, frowning slightly as you trembled.
"I mean it, my love. I was just teasing you. I'm not mad." You hiccup as you pull away, looking up at him with big watery eyes. "B-but you said I should be m-mindful of what I eat b-because..." Fat globs of tears leaked down your cheeks, fork still held in your hand.
You were truly breaking his heart. "I said you should be mindful of when you eat, not what. And that was because of your heartburn and occasional nausea." Another ongoing symptom was pregnancy brain...
"There is no need to cry, let's finish your cake, okay?”
She was already disregarding her father's advice... she certainly has your stubbornness. “Okay…” wobbly and hoarse, but you managed to contain your unpredictable tears. “Good girl.” Another kiss was placed, this time on your forehead as Zayne guided you back to the half-eaten cake slice on the counter.
“Surely our baby would want her dad to have some too…” Zayne’s voice is is laced with amusement as he eyes the cake, watching you laugh softly as you stick your fork into the slice.
I’ve been wanting to write Zayne dealing with your pregnancy cravings for forever now — it’s 1:30am and I am dreaming of the chicken wings I have in my fridge so the inspiration really just presented itself lmfao. I’m also very tired, I hope this makes sense.
zayne's thumb hovers over your name on the screen. he wants to call you, but he's hesitating for a few reasons. it's late, you're probably already asleep, and both of you have just started going out exclusively and seriously. he's not sure if you've reached the stage of your relationship where he can call you in the middle of the night without it being a burden. but he's feeling restless from his shift at the hospital. there's a small sense of comfort that you can bring him just by talking to him, even if it's just for a few minutes.
he presses down on the screen. the line starts to ring. his heart is beating quickly, and he feels guiltier as each ring finishes. he's about to hang up and just leave it be when your voice comes through from the other end, croaky and thick with sleep.
"zayne? hello?"
"sorry," he mutters. "did i wake you?"
"well, yes," you chuckle. "it's almost two in the morning. what's wrong?"
"forget it," he says quickly. "sorry to disturb you. go back to sleep."
"no, it's okay. i'm awake now anyway. what's up?"
silence. zayne is thinking of what to say.
"i just... wanted to hear your voice."
you pause for a moment.
"like... like this?"
he smiles to himself. "yes. just like this."
"tough shift at the hospital?"
"yes."
"well, i'm glad you called me."
"you are?"
"sure. it's nice to know that i'm the first person you thought to call."
his smile grows wider. his shoulders feel lighter, his chest feeling less tight. "thank you," he whispers. "i'll let you go back to sleep."
"are you sure? i don't mind staying on the line a little longer."
everyone at akso hospital was aware of zaynes crush on the hunter that came in regularly. yvonne teased zayne about the little smile that seemed to be reserved only for you. greyson, on the other hand, chuckled about zayne, who always twisted his neck to the point of giving himself whiplash whenever you left, as if he had to savor every last second of seeing you.
one day, greyson was feeling particularly brave. he elbowed zayne in the side. „you and that pretty hunter, huh? when are you planning on asking her out?“
zayne pushed the glasses up his nose. „I already have.“
yvonne and greyson shared a stunned look. „you have?“, yvonne asked.
„I have“, zayne gave back sternly.
„do we have to drag every little crumb of information out of you? tell us everything!“, yvonne exclaimed.
„there’s not much to tell. it went well.“
„look at you, dr. zayne“, greyson said with glee. „getting a girlfriend before all of us.“
„she is, in fact, my wife.“
zaynes smile never faded. actually it got bigger when he saw the absolute astonishment in greysons and yvonnes faces.
he’s been watching you play the whole time - whilst zayne may seem like he’s entirely focused on one of the many files opened on his laptop, he’s been sneaking peaks at your switch and quickly reading whatever subtiles he can pick up (you’d been so sweet as to put your earphones in and not disturb him).
the screen is littered in pink; from petals to bubbles, his - arguably silly-looking - mii confesses he believes he’s fallen for you. it’s not the first time, nor the second, of course not. it’s the third time zayne’s witnessed his doppelgänger go through this.
he adjusts his glasses, trying to sound indifferent as he says, “is there really no way for you to make mii’s break up?”
he knows the answer, because he’s been scouring the internet for any indication that it’s possible. his search history shows a previous visit of just 1 hour ago.
there are only so many rejections even he can take.
you smirk and press yourself into his side. pinching his cheeks, you reply, “so you are jealous. my poor zaynie, are you feeling neglected?”
and zayne feels his ears burn at your attention. he doesn’t say anything, instead deciding quietly steaming away is the best case scenario. he refuses to be bait here!
“well, you don’t have to worry. the real ‘mii’—“ he smiles and you feel pride instantly— “would only ever choose you.”
“is that so?”
you hum, resting your head on his shoulder now. zayne relaxes against you, nestling his head atop yours. he feels his chest ache when you say:
“i’m pretty sure this is, at the very least anyway, the fourth lifetime in which i’ve chosen only you. i just know it.”
“i’m well aware, zayne. but that does not explain why you called at–” you rub your eyes blearily, clutching your phone against your ear as you prop yourself up on your elbow, glancing at the digital clock, “–almost 2:30 am.”
there was a pause on the other line.
“…zayne?”
“… i just thought of you. that’s all,” he finally replies.
you furrow your brows, “i don’t think the zayne i know would disrupt my sleep over that.”
another silence.
you plop to your mattress, laying supine. your eyelids feeling heavy and your phone slipping from your fingers as the softness of your pillow and duvet warmly engulfs you.
“i think i may be in love with you.”
someone take my phone away before bedtime because whenever i yearn for zayne i end up writing for him!!!!!!!! >:(((
You realized this early on in your relationship, impatience tugging at you after finishing your work and being left rolling around in boredom at home, waiting for him.
Eventually, you figured you would rather just show up to his office and keep him company while he did his thing, and it quickly became a regular habit.
Almost every other day, you were there, helping him pass the time through late-night shifts or evenings when your own work ended early.
Initially, it was completely innocent. Most times, you’d be curled up on his couch, playing a random video game on your phone and rambling about your day while Zayne dutifully listened, a faint smile grazing his lips as he signed off on documents at his desk.
Other times, you’d stay closer, perched on his lap, tracing idle patterns onto his neck, or giving him a massage to help him relax.
But more often than not, the stress in his shoulders required far more than a shoulder rub to unwind.
So you figured you could help him out a little.
Like giving his cock a warm place to rest while he typed out reports– albeit very distractedly.
Or letting him stuff your mouth under his desk, his shoe pressed right up against your dripping cunt while he casually talked lab results with Greyson, the latter completely oblivious to the ploy happening right in front of him.
You were basically his own personal pocket pussy on standby whenever a surgery ran too long or the stack of paperwork grew too high.
Especially on those days, packed with endless OR visits, back-to-back emergencies, and patients swarming him. He would want nothing more than to come back to you in his office, waiting and ready for him to fuck all his stress into you.
