*ੈ✩‧₊˚explicit, 4.9k words, snippet:
'It was one thing to be wine drunk, and another to be cock drunk. To be both at once, however, was a foolish way to spend the rest of your night.’
.｡.:*☆ zaynexfem!mc/reader fic. or, zayne’s away and mc is tipsy and missing him. what better way to take out your frustrations than giving a blowjob to a wine bottle because it’s almost like it’s your boyfriend’s cock? (heavy on the almost).
˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚tags: masturbation, solo mc, yearning, established relationship, drunk blow jobs, cock worship, desperation, rough object play, inanimate object porn, kinda drunk texting/recording, clit play, tipsy mc
a/n: pls make sure to read the tags. enjoy <3
When Zayne left for his own two week business trip, you didn’t expect to feel quiet creep into every corner of your life. It was strange, considering the reserved doctor himself was a man of few words - or he had been. Zayne had opened up to you a lot more in the past few months. You were grateful that he trusted you so much - loved you so much to let you in.
Perhaps that’s why it ached more than usual, you weren’t used to the quiet of your home anymore. Usually, there was someone whispering in your ear or snoring beside you.
(He did snore, he did, even if he denied it).
Maybe, then, the ache is why you were sat on your sofa, barely paying attention to the drama in front of you. Right about now, Zayne would be beside you, humming along to the chatter of your voice and occasionally providing his own interpretation of a scene.
Strangely, he always sided with the villains a little. Although, doctors like him tended to be more of the empathetic, compassionate type.
It was no wonder that you loved him. And missed him, despairingly so.
You gave the glass in your hand a swirl, and contemplated as you watched the red slosh around in your cup.
Regardless of how much you missed him, you were also so proud of him. Zayne was an admirable doctor, of course they needed the best in Chansia City once more. He was good at his work.
He was also a good boyfriend, and he was the only candidate to be best at that, so really he should be home with you too.
You pressed your lips into a thin line before downing the rest of your wine, the bitter taste of it distracting you from your sorrow. You were being dramatic, and you knew that- it’s just that, normally, someone was around to balance you out.
God, you missed him so much.
You sat your glass next to the bottle of red you had bought from the nearby convenience store. With Zayne gone, you were able to indulge a little since he had no say in the matter. Lectures on your health and the dangers of alcohol were no longer a problem. Sure, it was reckless, what with your heart and all, but you were a grown woman. You could handle wanderers in your sleep, a little wine never hurt.
And you deserved it since your boyfriend wasn’t here.
You whined before pouting as you picked up your phone and navigated to the thread between you and Zayne. You skimmed over the last few messages, promises of calling later and exchanges of ‘I love you’s spanned the last few minutes you had together before he boarded his flight.
‘Keep yourself safe’ he had last messaged.
Tough chance. No way were you listening to that advice. It wasn’t to upset him by any means, not at all, it was simply that the hollowness you felt in your chest was too much. Alcohol was never the answer, you knew that, but how else were you supposed to deflect and ignore the pain of being apart from him for two whole weeks.
Perhaps you were clingier than you thought.
You poured yourself another glass, only a quarter left in the bottle now. It was the cheap kind, so really it wasn’t doing too much damage, but it was enough to get you feeling woozy and for your body to warm up.
You stroked your hand over the soft blanket that lay across your lap. The warmth of another body next to yours during the evenings had apparently been a luxury, up until now a blanket was simply an accessory to the sensation.
You scowled as you kicked the very same blanket off, watching the cream plush sadly splat onto the floor. It was fine, you were plenty warm in your usual top and jeans.
Another sip.
And another.
You glanced at the final few dredges of alcohol before downing the last few drops and pouring in the final quarter left.
Admittedly, you felt a little triumphant. How womanly of you to finish a whole bottle of wine in your apartment because you missed your boyfriend. Your handsome, doctor-boyfriend no less.
You supposed you were lucky to have such an issue.
With a small smile you sent a quick photo to Tara. She responded back quickly, never the type to be off her phone on her days off, and applauded you for still being coherent despite your intake for the evening.
‘Let’s see how the rest of your evening goes! Pick a card, any card☆*:.｡. (๑˃̵ᴗ˂̵)’ she messaged, alongside a picture of her cards splayed in their familiar array. Lunch breaks shared between the two of you often involved spur of the moment readings.
You took a sip of your wine as you mulled of the colourful display, admiring the intrinsic details of gold against a grey base. You slipped down onto the floor, the blanket beneath you providing some unnecessary comfort. You started to edit the photo, finally circling one particular card.
‘Be quick! It’s about intuition >:((’ Tara had messaged, the notification blaring at the top of your screen. You rolled your eyes before sending the picture and typing out a response.
‘I was literally in the middle of picking it, you’re so impatient!!’
‘Oooh! It’s an interesting one for sure’ she replied.
Again, you rolled your eyes and shook your head as you took another sip. Tara was always the type to ignore you if you tried to lecture her - she was far more of a brat than you.
‘Okay… is that good or bad?’
She sent another photo, this time of the card you had picked. In it, a man holds a candle above him, flames lit on either end of it and roses shroud him. Your eyes scanned over the text on the bottom of the card.
The Magician.
‘You can’t keep asking me that when you pull a card… but it’s neither good or bad. The Magician is about you directing yourself so the outcome’s kinda on you alone. It’s about taking control, being bold and confident with what you decide to do ☆*:.｡.’
‘In other words, if u own ur shit it will be good shit. if ur careful. :p’
With an exasperated expression, you responded with your own flurry of emojis, thanking her for the reading.
You pondered over the card once more, re-reading over Tara’s explanation. Perhaps it simply meant that you had to be smarter and more in charge of your health here.
You weren’t exactly one to entirely believe in divination, but you were also aware that downing a bottle of wine with your heart issues wasn’t exactly the best idea.
Zayne’s face flashed in your mind.
At least it was only one bottle.
You settled your phone down afterwards, finishing off the last bits of red wine lingering at the bottom of your glass. It was bitter, and watered down for the price, but it rekindled the warmth you felt throughout and the steady buzz that grew in your head.
You wondered what Zayne was up to now. Was he thinking of you? Did he arrive yet? Maybe he was asleep, it was late after all.
You glanced towards your dining room, looking through the windows that rested behind you. The city below was vibrant as usual, the workforce coming in from their shifts and blaring their headlights around. Flashes of red passed over the walls some times, but white lights persisted across them more often than not.
Linkon was alive in its usual way, and you envied it. You turned back to the television in mild displeasure. The only thing missing from here was him.
Zayne had become your usual.
You looked at the wine bottle before you, now empty and reflecting only the flashes of whatever drama was on screen still. Your glass looked just as sad as your sorry state, now abandoned without care once it had served its purpose.
In a way, though, the sight before you was pretty. Your silhouette was apparent, the maroon and onyx shades of your clothes blurred against the glass. Your hand hovered near the bottle, and you traced a finger against the label.
The label peeled away with ease, and you swore you could hear Zayne teasing you about how fiddly you could be.
With a sigh, your nail traced up the now bare glass.
You shifted.
A thought passed, too ridiculous to even consider. You knew it was the alcohol talking, knew it had gotten to you a little more than you had meant it to.
You winced as you felt yourself become flustered, inhaling as you tucked strands of your hair behind your ear. You felt foolish momentarily before the warm glow of the wine made you feel euphoric.
You unscrewed the cap off the bottle, and dropped it into your now empty glass. The bottle stood before you, taunting you with the specks of rouge that differed from your hues, only a few drops lay at the bottom, waiting patiently.
You picked up the bottle, tilting your head back against the couch as you tipped the bottle until it was parallel to you. Your eyes followed the streaks of red rushing down the sides of it, before they curved into your mouth.
The thought passed again.
Your eyes shut as your tongue flit out.
Zayne.
And for a while, you kept it up. You held the bottle there as you licked from the inside, tried your best to stuff your tongue in as far as it would go. You were thirsty, nothing could quench you the way he would. The taste lingered on the tip of your tongue, and your eyes welled up thinking about him on the end of your tongue. You felt the burn of them behind your eyes and suddenly you felt entirely ridiculous.
So you pulled away.
You sat the bottle down beside you quickly, eyes darting away as you felt your cheeks heat up. No one was around, you knew that, and yet it felt all too absurd to think and do such a thing.
It was one thing to be wine drunk, and another to be cock drunk. To be both at once, however, was a foolish way to spend the rest of your night.
It was stupid to be in denial of how the alcohol had been affecting you, it was no secret that wine was an aphrodisiac in itself after all. A long time ago, after the first few sips, you had noticed the way your pussy had gotten uncomfortable with need - it felt all too warm and the slick you felt collecting made it all the more unbearable. You had tried your best to ignore the way your clit had started pulsing, the way your hole literally burned from a lack of being filled.
Zayne wasn’t here though, and he was all you wanted. You would be unsatisfied without him, and giving into your need would simply make it so, so much worse.
You groaned as a few tears slipped out, you hated being so desperate like this. It was a lose-lose situation with no solution.
You rubbed your eyes, berating yourself for acting this way. It was bad enough that you had literally started treating the wine bottle like it was Zayne’s cock, the last thing you needed to do to add to the embarrassment was crying because you missed your throat being fucked.
Really, though, you missed him and how it felt to have his cock in your mouth. You missed the taste of pre-come leaving traces in your mouth each time you sucked and licked up and down. He was so pretty, just as desperate as you were, and always worried with going too far. You had always been adamant on letting him do what he wanted, you loved holding onto his thighs as he grabbed your hair and rammed down your throat when he was close.
Even a calm person such as Zayne had to let go of his own inhibitions once in a while.
It hurt in the best way possible. It was the only way you wanted him to come, your face buried right by his glorious v-line, shallowly breathing through your nose against his skin as his hands tightened around your hair when he moaned your name.
Fuck.
You needed to hear him moan your name again.
God, the way he would moan it again when he’d see his come on your tongue after. He was always so red, the tips of his ears the biggest give away if not for his cheeks, and yet he always maintained eye contact with your tongue whenever you showed off his spoils.
It was cute how embarrassed Dr. Zayne could still be even after multiple blowjobs.
You gulped as you shifted once more, your clit pulsing as your head span with the need to fuck him and suck him off till he was dry. It was so unfair - why did he have to go? He should be on this couch behind you, with his legs spread apart as he heaved and groaned around your tongue.
You glanced at the bottle beside you.
You picked it up, eyes laser-focused on the rim of the glass. Small, yet firm. It could easily smash if the impact was harsh enough, but it could also just as easily retaliate and pierce anyone who touched its shards.
Hm.
You drag the double-lip of the bottle against the plush of your own lips, watching as small pants pressed against the cold of the glass. Your eyes slid shut as you imagined Zayne’s cock dragging along your lips instead, the heavy weight of it always accompanied by pre-come spilling past the slit.
Your tongue crept through the opening of the bottle, ready for a taste of him.
Instead, hints of wine seeped through. The glass was still slightly warm from your previous suckling inside it, and the tight pressure of the glass around your tongue made you whine.
You could never get this far with Zayne of course, the slit in his cock too small to allow you such a pleasure, but you felt lightheaded at the sensation regardless. Would he feel like this? Would he beg you to do this to him if you could? Would he come feeling the softness of your tongue glide through?
Even in your eagerness to push past further, you still felt an ache in your chest at how much you missed the feeling of having your tongue make contact with the warm, slightly salty taste of him.
Your tongue flit out to collect the remainder of wine, desperation fuelling each stretch of your tongue in the slim neck of the glass.
Your hands warmed against the bottle now, what once had a cool temperament now naturally heated up under your touch. It became easier to hold, the cold was just a second thought. It had adapted to be like you, shared the same heat as you.
You were sure there was no more wine when you pulled away, particularly when you watched a clear string of saliva droop between yourself and the glass. It disconnected and stuck itself onto your chin, the other half trailed down the bottle.
You whined, glassy eyes tearing up as you reminisced on what should have your saliva all over it - what should be the object of all your attention and affections.
Poor Zaynie, he was missing out on all your ministrations that should have been exclusively for him.
You sat up, snatching your phone.
Poor Zaynie indeed. How dare he leave you alone, for two weeks no less, with no company or new plushies to make up for his absence.
You stretched your phone out before you and captured the glossy look in your eyes, the rouge flush spread across your face. The saliva on your chin glistened from the television before you, the glass evident with spit bubbles and strings of you around the rim, shining just as bright. It called for his attention.
This had better make him pay attention, make him regret leaving.
You knew you were being unreasonable, so selfish and horny and desperate and needy- but none of that mattered. Not now, not when he was already there anyway. It was okay to be self-indulgent, to be clingy. To be starved of Zayne. It was okay to be ridiculous right now.
You sent the photo, unsurprised to see only a ‘Delivered’. Yet, it fuelled your need. You clearly grew impatient the longer he was away - the less his attention was on you the worse it felt.
That’s why you ended up setting your phone on the coffee table in front, letting it rest against the empty wine glass.
You hit record.
It’s a lot at first. The sound of the recording starting, that known ping, it made a wave of nervousness roll through your stomach. Looking at yourself, the way your eyes were so noticeably glassy and the way your cheeks were flushed, everything felt too dirty. You felt too embarrassed.
The Magician flashed in your mind, and it’s enough for your tipsy self to decide nothing mattered anymore. Everything was on the table. Except for him, of course.
You hummed around the bottle, your tongue pressing against the cool glass before swirling, searing its ridges into your tongue. You tested the waters, pushed it deeper with one hand gently holding the bottom of the glass, the other rested against your jeans, just on top of your pussy, simply cupping it.
You pressed the palm of your hand against your mound, whimpering from the relief it gave you. It was small, nothing in comparison to actually gliding your fingers over your clit, but you wanted to be slow for once. Maybe you understood a little more why Zayne loved to take his time with you - it was exhilarating. You were on the edge of greatness, and you were entirely in control.
You glanced over to your phone, your eyes landing on how lewd you looked. Your cheeks bulged around the bottle, your hand strained against your pussy, and you looked beyond desperate. Helpless. Despicable.
You were in control of that though, you wanted to be like that. Maybe, in some way, it really did make it feel as though Zayne was here.
You raised your eyes from your flushed face towards the camera lens. You spread your legs further apart, fully displayed for him now. Painstakingly, you fiddled with the zip on your jeans before trailing it down ever so slowly - only the sounds of the squelching around the bottle and the zipper filled the room, the television had turned off at some point from inactivity.
Even when you were supposed to be relaxing, Zayne occupied your every thought. Recreational activities were difficult without him.
You popped the bottle out of your mouth, briefly setting it aside to remove your jeans entirely. You wanted to show off your silk underwear, the ones Zayne had picked out after you had joked about typical couple gifts.
You really had not expected him to like that one so much.
You sighed as your fingers splayed against the front of your underwear now, spreading you through the cloth. It was both frustrating and exhilarating.
Would Zayne watch this part and follow your moves? Would he cup himself over his briefs too? Would he give up from the beginning and touch himself as soon as he pressed play?
Or would he watch the whole video before calling you, demanding you perform for him all over again?
You pressed your lips into a thin line. No way would he be allowed that kind of control, it was your turn to be in charge of whatever happens after.
You rubbed two fingers right over your clit, the cloth of your underwear rubbing perfectly from how damp it had gotten during your game. You arched into the touch, your neck jerking back as you sighed out. You pressed harder, the sweet pressure rolled over you again and again - your legs trembled as you strained to keep them open, particularly when you hit a sensitive spot. Helpless, you pushed through and added pressure, whining and grunting in tandem as you shook from the extremity of the feeling. Your fingers grew slicker, the damp spread from your hole to your clit now from your incessant rubbing back and forth. You felt yourself sweat, the tremors growing stronger from how rough the fabric felt on your clit due to your frantic rubbing.
You stopped, immediately staring straight back into the camera lens. Maintaining your focus, you pulled your underwear to your knees. Your legs were bent and held captive by your underwear straining against them, but your pussy was better displayed for Zayne to admire. The thickness of your thighs prevented a full display, and you were not going to strain to show off more just to please him, so your outer folds were hidden ever so slightly on either side.
Too bad. Zayne would simply have to accept that his absence had consequences.
You panted into your hand as the other slipped against your pussy, finally allowing yourself some kind of relief. It was too wet, your fingers instantly slid against the come that had coated your clit and suddenly the pressure just wasn’t as good as it had been before.
You whined before grabbing the bottle and clumsily dragged your underwear back on. Being deliriously frustrated and restless from the alcohol, it undeniably guided your every decision, alongside adding to the unwavering desperation for Zayne to fuck you.
It was with no hesitancy, then, that you pressed the bottle against your pussy. It felt rough again, the glass still cooler than your hand, but it was so, so much better. You rubbed it up and down, whining and whimpering as each glide against the fabric brought back that sickly sweet feeling of intense pleasure.
It felt so similar to Zayne’s cock being rubbed against your pussy, when you’d be so brave as to get on top of him and dry hump him to completion. Or when he’d decide to play with you, watch you fall apart by brushing the length of his cock against your clit with delicate and precise control.
He could be so cruel. There were times when he’d even push his cock into your hole through your panties, not quite far enough to really feel anything. Zayne just loved watching you whine and cry for more, and you knew he particularly loved watching your underwear grow damper from his teasing.
You moaned as you pressed the bottle harder, your head whipping back from the feeling. You started to tighten your grip on the neck of the bottle before lifting yourself up and down, rubbing yourself against it.
Like this, the ache in your hand dulled slightly. It allowed yourself to focus on moving your hips instead - your feet planted onto the floor as you glided up and down against it.
You forced yourself to look at your phone once more, whining out at the sight of your flush spreading across your chest, past the black choker that always rested against your neck.
Perhaps the sight is why you decided it would be a good idea to recreate his teasing - surely it would make him want to get on the next flight back home to you?
Your humping slowed as you let yourself rest. You slid the bottle down, twitching at the ridge of it sliding against your clit before making its way to your hole. Only your underwear separated you from it.
Sure, you had considered going all the way like this with no underwear, but you were a little too sober to be that bold today, so you simply pushed the rim of the bottle past your hole, through your underwear.
It drew a whine out of you, the feeling of hard glass so different to the firmness of his cock. There was the initial sting, but the bottle opened up your hole ever so slightly and come flood through, easing the sensation, like it always did.
You kept at it for a while, mewling against the slow fucking that barely made a dent in you. It was awful how badly you needed something inside of you, thoughts of Zayne’s cock in you rambled through as you tried your luck at pushing a little deeper.
It pinched, and you stopped with a whine. It hadn’t hurt enough for you to pick up the pace of humping against the bottle once more though, the ease of the action filled you with a second of shame before the sweet feeling of indulgence spread throughout.
You jolted as you humped against the bottle- again the sensitive spot had been hit but you pushed through. It felt so devastatingly good, it hurt in the best way possible, and it was like Zayne was right here with you. You were twitching all over, your hand shook trying to keep the bottle in place, and you felt sweat cover your body from your exertion.
“Zayne…” You panted out, staring into the camera lens once more. You sighed, the words felt stuck in your throat as you panted, “I feel– close.” You groaned,” I can’t take it, I can’t take– oh God, I need you, please.”
Your eyes rolled back as the twitching through your body grew stronger, the pleasure relentlessly struck through over and over again. It was too difficult for you to think clearly now, to keep speaking to him.
And then it stopped.
You hadn’t come, it was too unbearable to keep pushing through like that.
Instead, you gasped for air as your hand went slack around the bottle. It rolled against the floor as squelching filled the room once more, your hand immediately pressing against the damp cloth etched into your pussy.
You whined, shaking your head as you furiously rubbed your clit. “I wish you were here. All I wanted was to suck your cock, please. Please, come home. I’m so– desperate, please Zayne.”
It was the way his name pressed past your lips that began the descent, and your harsh pants alongside the undeniable sound of slick come squelching against your underwear further fuelled the fire.
The desperation burned from inside, and you couldn’t help but pick the bottle up once more before messily sucking and slurping around the neck of it, going as far as possible before pulling out. You tried to be careful, to make sure your teeth were out the way, but you were too focused on the feeling of it rubbing against your tongue and along the roof of your mouth. You pressed it into the back of your throat, again and again.
The small rim of the bottle left you spluttering, but the feeling of something in your mouth was indescribable.
You were a mess, all because you wanted Zayne.
You looked at the camera, and your eyes rolled back as a moan, bordering scream, tore from your throat. The wine bottle fell, your hand had immediately slackened against it as you tried to instead cover up your mouth. The pleasure hit wave after wave, and you blanked out as moans and gasps of “Zayne” filled the apartment.
When it became too much, the feeling far too overstimulating on your clit, you slouched down and panted as you tried to catch your breath. Blearily, you gazed at the discarded bottle now, whining as you noticed the traces of saliva all around the neck and the condensation on the thick of it in the shape of your hand.
You tilted your head up, blushing at how dishevelled you looked. At least you kept your top and underwear on.
When you caught your breath, you shuffled onto your knees and kneeled before the camera. You had placed your hands on your knees before flinching. You raised your hand up and flushed, noting how pruned your fingers had become.
It was not embarrassing enough to stop you from showing Zayne though. You made sure the pruning was clear to see before you popped your fingers in your mouth, gently swirling around the taste of your come.
It felt narcissistic to feel lightheaded from how you tasted. Your eyes fluttered shut from the feeling, and you took your time to savour your come.
You hoped he would be jealous of this too.
With a hum, you took them out and smiled sweetly at the camera. You tilted your head to the side as you leaned forward, pretending to appear as if nothing had happened. Your hair swept with you, framing your face ever so sweetly.
With a sparkle in your eyes, your softly murmured, “Keep yourself safe, too, Dr. Zayne.”
Delivered.
You were positive he would be ruined after watching.
Long after sending the video, you had promptly put yourself to bed, ignoring the stained blanket and mess that had been left behind in the living room. They were issues for tomorrow, you were far too exhausted from how hard you came.
It was tiring having to look after yourself without your boyfriend around to dote on you.
In the dead of the night, hours past when a nap had become a deep slumber, you phone buzzed with a call from him.
I got Zayne’s cologne for my birthday today and it is better than I could have dreamed of. It smells fresh and cool like the first snow in winter. As the clerk was ringing me up he said “it’s nice, subtle, and underrated.”
It is literally so perfect for Zayne and is so comforting to me.
