still yours pairing: ex-bf!Zayne x f!Reader
content: mdni, angst and smut, jealousy, drinking, piv sex, bathroom sex, semi-public sex, rough sex, breakup/making up
You broke up with your boyfriend three weeks ago.
So what, exactly, was he doing here?
"What did you say you did for work again? Sorry," You apologized, forcing a smile on your face as you tried to focus on your date.
But it was a teensy bit difficult when you could feel the daggers being drilled into your skin from across the restaurant.
"Finance," The handsome man across from you answered, whiskey hitting the table with a clink while he started on another long spiel about numbers or whatever it was he did, an itch you couldn't scratch clawing for attention under the surface as you nodded and hm-ed along.
Zayne just wouldn't stop staring.
Showing up while you were on a first date, casually sipping on his own drink while some girl chattered in his ear one seat over, while he only eyed you - and your company tonight. Funny of him to find the time now to spend it chasing after you. Hadn't he just been too busy for a night out a handful of weeks ago?
He usually never drank either.
You guessed this must be a rare occasion for him - one you were no longer apart of.
Your attention was on your date, but your eyes kept shifting past him, catching glimpses of your ex you knew he noticed, his head nodding in acknowledgement at you, still so frustratingly polite.
If he wanted to be petty, you'd just have to remind him who was better at it.
"Hey," You interrupted your date, pitching your voice down to something soft, seductive as you tilted your head to the side. "Wanna go back to my place?"
"I was gonna order dessert first," He said, before it clicked that you were offering him a taste of something sweeter, blinking abruptly before eagerly nodding, pulling out his wallet to get out enough cash to cover the bill and tip so he could show you his.
It was a shame you still couldn't remember his name.
"Great," You smiled, standing up and leaning over to kiss the corner of his mouth. "I'm just gonna run to the bathroom first."
You fixed the strap of your purse over your shoulder, heels clicking on the floor as you walked across the restaurant to the sign marked restrooms, slipping inside the woman's single-occupant one, about to shut and lock the door before someone's hand was shoved in the crack to stop it from closing.
And would anyone really blame you if you accidentally slammed the door shut? Maybe break a few of those fingers?
He was a doctor after all, he could patch himself up.
Your mouth opened, but you weren't even sure what you were going to say. Hadn't you expected this after all?
But then he was pushing the door open enough to slip inside, his usually cold features scrutinizing you up close now, taking in the full picture of your short dress and high heels, the makeup you'd carefully applied in the hopes your mascara would be running down your cheeks onto someone new's sheets by the end of the night.
"You should go," You sighed, returning his icy stare.
All the time you'd spent breaking down his indifferent exterior, pushing past how casually cold he used to be, just for you to end up back here anyway, strangers who used to sleep in the same bed, share meals and steal kisses.
"I hope you're not planning on leaving with him," Zayne replied, sharp and brusque. His focus centered on you, daring you to break eye contact even when he stepped forward.
"So what if I am?" You held your head up high, folding your arms across your chest. "We broke up. I'm not your problem anymore."
What else were you supposed to feel like when you were desperate for whatever scraps of his attention he could spare, overworked and exhausted every night he returned home late from the hospital?
"You're always mine," He muttered, hazel eyes flickering down to your lips as he bridged the distance between you, his hand sliding up your back to pull you into his chest. Your hand pressed flat against it, and maybe it was how fast his heart was beating, but you couldn't bring yourself to push him away.
His familiar cologne made your own pulse quicken, cold and clean and serious, you lungs straining to get in any air when he was looking at you like you were still the only object worthy of his affection.
You didn't even believe yourself. Voice trembling as his soft lips caught your attention, pursed in a small frown at your words. You wondered if there'd ever be a part of you that didn't want to kiss him.
His free hand reached up, and in one quick movement, he pinched your cheek softly, as if he was scolding you.
"You're sure about that?"
And he knew it, because two seconds later, his lips were on yours, hard and firm, your back suddenly pressed against the chilly edge of the bathroom sink as he kissed you. Mouth trailing down your neck, the sharp edge of his nose ghosting over your skin as his lashes fluttered shut, a soft little groan leaving him when he hoisted you on top of the counter and hooked your thighs over his hip, teeth sinking into your collarbone.
"Z-Zayne," You murmured, knowing you should tell him to stop but unfortunately also aware you weren't going to.
He continued his delicate path down your chest, freeing your breasts from your dress to wrap his lips around a peaked nipple, his tongue rolling over and sucking on the bud while you gasped at the contact.
Always a man on a mission.
This one, you supposed, was reminding you who his heart beat for.
Your own fingers fumbled for his belt, unbuckling it and making easy work of his button and zipper while he worshipped your breasts, starving kisses decorating your chest before he made his way back up your sternum, your chin tilting back to allow him access to trace a line all the way to your jaw, up, up, up to your lips again.
"Were you going to let him do this?" He whispered into the corner of your mouth.
"Still might," You cheekily cut in, teasing as you slipped two fingers underneath the band of his boxers.
You hadn't realized how much of a mistake it might've been until he was pulling your hand out - and his cock next.
Still as pretty and pale as you last remembered it, thick veins bulging as it stood thick and erect. A thin gloss of pre-cum was smeared over the tip, but you didn't get to see much more than that before he was tearing open a condom you couldn't fucking believe he had in his pocket. Blinking wide-eyed as he sheathed himself inside it, immediately shoving your underwear to the side and pulling you to the edge of the counter, bottoming out in one harsh thrust.
There was a brief burn, gasping at the sensation of being stretched around him, his tip pushing past the first ring of resistance and dragging along your walls until it was snugly grinding in as deep as he could.
"This," He pulled out, just to shove himself back in, making his point precise. "This is mine."
Where was this attitude a month ago?
"You can't just decide that," You hissed, your whispers unfortunately turning into a whine when he picked up the pace. Every stroke was brutal, his control slipping and spiraling further from his reach by the second, his hips slamming into your skin while his fingers dug into your thighs to hold you in place for him to fuck. In the back of your mind, you wondered if it'd bruise tomorrow, if his nails would leave little indents in your skin.
"I'll cut back on the hours, okay?" He spoke firmly, but his voice was strained, a little hoarse. Struggling to reign himself in when your cunt kept squeezing softly sinfully around him. "Just come home."
"I don't believe you," You argued, but it was getting harder to hold onto your anger when his cock was drilling deep enough you could feel him in your stomach.
"I mean it," He murmured, his voice softening into something that made your heart ache for him. Like he was trying to tell you he loved you even when he fucked you like he hated you.
He pulled you closer by your thighs, lifting you up to drive his dick in harder, faster. His tip grazed against the spongy spot in the back that made you tense, hips arching up instinctively. Zayne groaned, chasing that same reaction as he kept up the quick thrusts, making sure to slam into it again and again.
You wished he wasn't wearing a shirt. Wished you could rake your nails down his back, leave long scratches that'd make him wince in the shower, remind him why you were mad to start with.
"Say it," He muttered, not letting up, not slowing or showing any signs of stopping while you clawed at his shirt, balling up the fabric in your fists and clinging to him with every forceful bounce of your body.
You were too full to think, all you thoughts dissolving into desire, growing more fuzzy and lightheaded with every whimper he ripped from you. You'd nearly forgotten where you were until one of his hands clamped over your mouth to keep you quiet, your moans muffled by his cold palm.
"Darling," He groaned as he buried himself back to the hilt, his voice dangerously low. "When I move my hand, I want you to tell me you're mine."
His thrusts stalled, letting his cock just throb inside you, waiting patiently for your response as if he really would stay here forever for you to say yes.
You nodded, not sure if you were drunk on his words or his promises or the possessive way he was fucking you, but really, you'd be lying to yourself if you said you weren't still in love with him.
He removed his palm to cup your cheek, his pretty eyes searching your face for any sign of affection. Your lips curled up into a tired smirk, pulling him closer by the collar of his shirt. "I'm still yours, idiot."
That was all it took for him to resume the bruising pace, fucking you like he might never get the chance again, large hands holding onto you tight as he buried his face in your neck. You barely even processed the kisses he was pressing into your throat, to ask if he was really leaving hickies, when suddenly one of his hands had slipped between your thighs, nimble fingers massaging your clit in practiced motions.
There was hardly any buildup, the rubber band holding your sanity and sensibility together snapping as he increased the pressure on your needy bud, his controlled circles combined with the way his cock had you stuffed even fuller then dinner had you cumming fast. Undone and unraveled, tears probably wrecking your makeup just as much as he was wrecking the rest of you. He finished right as you started coming back done, your thighs still trembling and fists stiff in his shirt as he growled your name and filled the condom.
He was dotting more kisses on your cheek, making a few more serious promises of changing his schedule for you, switching to a less busy clinic if he had to, whatever you wanted for him to win you back. His brown still furrowed into a stoic expression, cock still twitching inside you as you rested your head on his shoulder and processed what the hell just happened.
You might be his, but he only got one more warning.
"Fuck up again and I won't be."
