#Tom holland protective | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

jahayla-parker · 2 years ago

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Crazed : Tom Holland x Reader

Descr: 8k wc, A crazed fan breaks into Tom's house when his girlfriend is home and she has to defend herself until Tom's security gets there.

Warnings: curse words, violence, stalker/crazy fan behavior, hostage situation, threats, danger, mentions of a break-in, (minor) injuries, hospital (brief), knife/blade, keys used as weapon.

Y/n rubbed her boyfriend Tom’s shoulders as he pinched the bridge of his nose. She knew he was stressing out over the recent safety concerns that had arisen for the couple. Y/n knew that Tom would handle it; even before the multiple promises he made to do so. But, she still wanted to wipe the frown off his face as he called his security team.

They had recently been made aware that there was an… overzealous fan of Tom’s that posed a risk to the couple’s safety. Tom’s brother and personal assistant Harry, had noticed someone was following them one afternoon. They contacted Tom’s security team immediately and had them look into it.

Allegedly, when the security personnel asked the fan to stop following the couple, things escalated. The fan had made numerous comments that concerned Tom’s security. The first was the fan’s statement on how they were Tom’s one true love; not y/n. The second was when the same fan commented that y/n needed to learn her place and stay away from Tom. Then of course came the standard stalkerish fan remarks such as claiming she knew where the couple had been at any given moment, that she had a shrine of Tom with photos that no one else had seen as she’d taken them herself, and that she was in love with Tom and knew he’d come around and choose her.

It wasn’t like Tom had no former experience with overzealous fans. But this was on a whole other level. The fact that this fan made his own security concerned for y/n, made Tom panic. Between his team's and his own suggestions, Tom had ensured that they always had at least two security guards with them.

Tom felt guilty for having to limit their privacy even more than normal when going on dates, or whenever they simply left the house. But, he refused to let something happen to y/n. Which was why he had to call his security team again today.

Earlier today Y/n had gotten a call from an unknown number. She always ignored calls from unknown numbers. As such, y/n had let the call go to voicemail. However, when she checked her voicemail, y/n felt the same panic Tom had been experiencing.

The fan who Tom had been worried about for several weeks by then had somehow found y/n’s personal phone number. Y/n knew it wasn’t super rare for celebrities and their friends and family to have their personal information leaked. But, the message that the fan left was very troubling.

The girl had threatened to harm y/n if she didn’t break up with Tom. She even went so far as to show she had the address of y/n’s work; as ‘proof to take her seriously’. The fan also had the address of y/n’s last residence. Y/n and Tom began living together months ago. But, technically y/n’s old apartment was still in her name as the lease wasn’t up for another month and a half.

When y/n told Tom about the voicemail, he immediately asked her to play it for him. His fury and fear skyrocketed as he heard the passion behind the fan’s voice. He couldn’t believe this was happening to begin with, much less to this extent. Tom was adamant something had to be done, starting with calling his security and demanding increased protection for y/n.

“We need to increase y/n’s security,” Tom ordered immediately upon his lead security officer answering his call. He felt y/n rest her head on his shoulder, rubbing his arm to try and calm him. Tom crooked his neck and placed a soft kiss to y/n’s head as he listened to his security guard’s response.

“No, you don’t understand,” Tom groaned, standing up from the couch. He began pacing their living room as he tried to keep himself in check. He couldn’t understand why his security wasn’t just listening to him. Y/n needed more security, immediately. “I’m going to send you something,” Tom said, pulling the phone from his ear just long enough to forward the threatening voicemail.

“Tommy,” y/n whispered as Tom put the phone back up to his ear as he waited on a response. She smiled warmly at him when he looked her way. Y/n wrapped her arms around his shoulders, “breathe please”.

Tom nodded in response to y/n’s request. He took a few deep breaths as he faintly heard the voicemail being played in the background. Tom hummed as he heard his security guard call for another officer to look into the voicemail. “See?” Tom asked in frustration, “she needs more security”.

Y/n watched as Tom nodded along to whatever his security was suggesting. She sighed in relief at seeing his lessening worry. She didn’t know what they were telling Tom, but it was helping. Y/n kissed Tom’s neck right under his earlobe as she waited for him to end the call and update her.

“Tom, look, I know you’re worried, but-” y/n sighed. Tom wanted her to not go in to work today. To be fair, it was a suggestion from his security when he called them last night, but Tom jumped on board with the idea without hesitation.

Tom frowned. “You’re not going to stay home?” He asked, his voice sad and eyes worried. “Please?” Tom requested, squeezing y/n’s hand.

Y/n pursed her lips. “I have work, T,” she argued softly.

“I know,” Tom agreed. “And I’m sorry, I dragged you into this -".

Y/n shook her head, “no. This isn’t on you Tom. I’ve told you that”. She sighed, “but, that doesn’t mean I can just stay stuck at home all day every day until this...overzealous fan chills out”.

“Overzealous?!” Tom huffed. “Darling, she’s bloody crazy!” He exclaimed. “This isn’t some slightly obsessed fan, she’s insane and she wants to hurt you.”

Y/n bit her lip and nodded. He was right. The voicemail had truly scared her. And she knew Tom knew that. Even if he hadn’t already been protective before, he certainly would’ve become so upon seeing how much it freaked her out.

“Just for today?” Tom pleaded. “I’m already working on a more long-term solution,” he assured her.

Y/n sighed softly as she thought it over. She didn’t have a ton to do at work today, so perhaps it wouldn’t be the end of the world. “Okay, if it will make you happy, I’ll stay home today,” she accepted.

Tom grinned and pulled y/n in for a tight hug. “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” he gushed. “I know it’s not ideal, but I’ll try to come home for lunch, and-" Tom rambled.

Y/n giggled. She rubbed Tom’s chest as she leaned back. “Handsome, you don’t need to do that,” she smiled. “Just focus on your scenes and rest between them, we both know you haven’t been doing that much. Hmm?”.

Tom nodded, he’d been spending most of his time between takes and scenes getting on his security about finding out who this crazy fan was and doing whatever was needed to stop them. “Okay, but,” he replied, smiling, “I’m still going to call during my lunch and check-up”.

Y/n hummed lovingly, stroking Tom’s cheeks tenderly. “You have a deal, sweetheart.”

“Okay, so, you’ll arm the security system after I leave?” Tom asked y/n.

Y/n nodded, “yes”.

“And, you have Jones’s number saved, right?” Tom wondered as he mentally made his way through his checklist. Jones was one of his security guards and Tom had requested that he be on call nearby in case something happened. Or if y/n simply felt scared that it could/would.

“Saved and set as a favorite for easy access,” y/n promised. She neared her boyfriend and set her hands on his shoulders. “Everything is in place honey.”

Tom took a shaky breath and nodded. He really didn’t want to leave her alone, but he had to go to set. He was nearly done with filming and then they’d be able to go wherever. Y/n had reminded him of that when he considered taking the day off. The sooner he was done, the sooner they could go back to Europe -for at least as long as it took until the fan was taken care of.

That didn’t mean he wasn’t anxious about y/n being home alone. But, at his security pointed out, the fan had given the address for y/n’s old apartment, her job, and has been seen on set before. This was the safest place for her. As far as they are aware, there was no reason to believe the fan has knowledge of this apartment nor that y/n and Tom even lived together.

“I’m just…” Tom sighed. He knew he was going overboard in his preparations. But he couldn’t help it, he needed to know y/n would be safe.

Y/n gave Tom a quick kiss. “Worried, sweet, adorable, I know,” she grinned. “But you’re also about to be late,” y/n giggled playfully. “So, go, get there safely, kick ass on your scenes, and we’ll talk at lunch?”

Tom smiled and nodded, holding y/n to his chest for another hug. “Alright love, I’ll call you soon. I love you.”

“I love you too,” y/n said. She pulled back from the hug and kissed Tom’s forehead. “Let me know when you get to set,” she added as Tom made his way to his car. Y/n waved goodbye before she closed the door.

Y/n quickly armed the security system. She sighed to herself before looking around as she tried to decide what to do on her unplanned day off. Y/n walked to the bedroom to change into pajamas and grab some large and comfortable blankets.

When y/n returned to the living room, she found Tom had texted her saying he’d made it to set. She smiled and sent a quick reply before settling herself on their couch. Y/n flicked the television on and scrolled through their digital movies until she landed on Uncharted. She smirked to herself and sent a photo of her movie choice to Tom before she pressed play and relaxed under her blankets.

“You okay?” Harry asked, squinting at his brother. “You seem tense and you keep saying the wrong lines,” he pointed out. Harry was not just Tom’s brother but also his personal assistant and therefore it was his job to see to whatever was bothering him. “What’s going on?”

Tom sighed and ran a hand down his face, wincing as he realized he realized he’d just messed up the makeup the crew put on him. “It’s just…” he mumbled, looking around the set before pulling his brother to the side. “You know that crazy fan?” He asked. When Harry nodded, Tom continued. “Well, they get y/n’s number and left her a threatening message”.

Harry’s eyes widened. “Is she okay?” He asked.

“Yeah, I mean, she was when I left. And, Jones hasn’t reached out to say that’s changed… But, I just…. It’s hard to clear my mind and focus,” Tom admitted.

“I get that mate, but you can’t know what’s going on if you don’t ask,” Harry said. “So, instead of stressing for likely no reason, why don’t you text her between scenes and see what she’s up to?“ he suggested.

Tom smiled and hugged his brother. “That’s a great idea mate, thank you!” He held out his hand and waited for Harry to pass him his phone.

Harry chuckled and quickly took Tom’s phone from his pocket. “Here ya are,” he said with a playful eye roll.

“Oh,” Tom chuckled. He felt his cheeks flush as he looked at the last message from his girlfriend.

“Ewww, if that’s a sext, you need to get better at hiding your reaction,” Harry groaned.

Tom glared at Harry as he shook his head. “No!” He scolded. “Apparently she’s having a movie day…” Tom mumbled bashfully.

“Okay? And…?” Harry questioned.

Tom tilted his phone so Harry could see the text thread. His blush darkened as his brother laughed and shook his head at y/n's choice of movies for the day.

“You two are gross,” Harry teased. “Ready to try this scene again now?” He asked, trying to guide Tom back to set.

Tom smiled to himself. He quickly replied to y/n’s text and passed his phone back to Harry. “Yeah, I am now,” Tom nodded.

Y/n yawned as she rose from the floor. She’d made a blanket fort earlier to watch movies in. But now, her legs were numb and tingly from the position she’d been in. Y/n tiredly made her way to the kitchen for some snacks. While she hadn’t done much today, she was exhausted. It seemed doing nothing let her body realize how tired she’d been lately.

Y/n groaned lightly upon seeing that Tom had left a nearly empty milk carton in the fridge. She had just gotten groceries, not knowing they needed milk since the n carton was still in the fridge. Y/n made a mental note to get more milk tomorrow, or tonight after Tom got home from set. She poured the last of it in her cereal bowl before going to throw the carton away.

Only, as she went to place the carton in the garbage, y/n noticed it was full. She quickly calculated what day it was and realized it was garbage day. Y/n decided to go put on some slippers so she could take the garbage out.

Y/n returned to the kitchen and tied the trash bag closed. She smiled to herself knowing Tom wouldn’t have to deal with taking the bag out tonight when he got home and instead could relax. It was the least she could do since she knew he was worrying about her more than usual today.

Y/n disarmed the security system so that her opening the back door wouldn’t trip the alarm. That was the last thing Tom needed while trying to focus on his job. She was careful though to shut the door behind her and lock it so no one could enter while she was walking to the alley to dispose of the bag. Y/n figured it was overkill, but she knew Tom would be happier knowing she’d done it.

Y/n was sure to be quick with throwing the bag in the can outside. She smiled when she noticed their neighbors’ cans hadn’t been picked up yet; she hadn’t missed pickup. Y/n cautiously looked around before walking back to her apartment.

Y/n felt some anxiety as she unlocked her back door, feeling like someone could sneak up behind her. As a result, she quickly rushed inside and locked it again. Y/n let out a sigh and decided to refocus on her movie day, designating it as a seemingly needed distraction. She grabbed her bowl of sugary cereal with little milk and headed back to her blanket fort in the living room.

Y/n paused the movie, having thought she heard something in the kitchen. She peered into the kitchen doorway from her seat and didn’t see anything. Y/n wanted to go back to her movie, but her gut told her something wasn’t right.

Y/n elected it was safest to fully check on the sound she thought she heard. So, she grabbed her phone, pulling up the favorites section of her contacts as she anxiously made her way to the kitchen. She stopped halfway there, realizing she didn’t have anything to protect herself with. Unfortunately, her ideal choice of weapon would be found in the kitchen. Y/n settled for her keys, holding them in her other hand as she resumed her quest to find the source of the sound she’d heard.

A gasp escaped y/n’s mouth as she entered the kitchen. There was a pile of broken glass underneath the back door on the far side of the room. Y/n didn’t see anyone in the room but knew this wasn’t a good sign. She hadn’t been wrong about having heard a sound, nor about the need to check on it. And, considering the broken glass had come not too long after the voicemail incident, y/n was worried they were related.

Y/n didn’t want to take her eyes off the kitchen in case someone appeared, but she suspected she should call Jones. She blindly tried to pull up his number as she stared at the back door. Y/n cautiously walked towards the knife block, hoping to grab a better weapon than her keys. Except, before y/n could get to even the halfway point, someone’s hand reached in through the broken glass on the door and unlocked the handle.

Y/n looked around for an alternative weapon since she was too far from the knife block. But, she quickly ran out of time as the person had flung the door open and entered her apartment. Y/n’s eyes widened and she began to step back. She wanted to run but she didn’t want to aggravate the girl before her. Plus, the safest way to run would be to run outside, but the girl was blocking that door.

The intruder was wearing a homemade Tom Holland shirt, making it even more obvious she was the stalkerish fan. The girl’s hair and makeup was overly done up, as if she was going out on a date or to an event. She was glaring aggressively at y/n as she walked further into the kitchen.

Once y/n sensed she’d backed up enough to make it to the doorway to the living room, she turned and bolted from the kitchen. She scolded herself as she realized her blanket fort in the living room now provided a large obstacle, blocking her from easy access to the front door. Before y/n could decide if she could crash through the mess of blankets and furniture supporting them, she heard the fan’s loud footsteps running after her.

Y/n sharply turned the corner and started to the stairs. She looked down at her phone as she ran, clicking on Jones’ contact. Just as y/n’s finger went to press call, she felt a hand on her ankle. She screeched as she tugged her foot away and tried to stumble up the rest of the stairs.

Y/n kept running up the stairs as the fan angrily screamed her name. She once again tried to call Jones, only this time she tripped on one of Tom’s shoes that had been left on the staircase. In her attempt to not lose her balance and fall down the steps, y/n used her hand to push herself back up. Only, this caused her phone to slip from her hands and tumble down the stairs. Y/n fell to the ground as she turned to grab the device. Except, she wasn’t quick enough.

Y/n silently watched in terror as her lifeline bounced past the crazed fan on the stairs. She froze as she saw the glint of the knife the fan had in her hand. Y/n swallowed thickly and decided her best bet was to try and lock herself in the bathroom and scream; hoping the neighbors would hear and call the police. She quickly stood back up and turned around. “HELP!” Y/n shouted, hoping by chance a window was open.

“I just want to talk!” The fan replied, bouncing up the steps after y/n.

“GET AWAY FROM ME!” Y/n yelled back, finally mounting the stairs. She rushed towards the bathroom at the end of the hall. A painful scratch on the back of her right shoulder caused y/n to stop. Y/n knew instantly from the way there were four simultaneous scratches that the fan had used her acrylic nails to scrape at y/n.

Y/n hissed in pain and spun around to try and fight off the fan. She fortunately still had her keys in her fist. As such, she lunged forward and dug them against the fan’s face. Y/n used the fan’s shock to turn and run the rest of the way to the bathroom.

As y/n tried to shut the bathroom door, she was blocked by the fan’s foot. “LEAVE ME ALONE!” she shouted, trying to shove the girl’s foot out of the way. “I DIDN’T DO ANYTHING TO YOU!”

“JUST LET ME TALK!” The fan argued, pushing against the bathroom door.

“I DON’T WANT TO TALK!” Y/n groaned. “WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU!” she asked, slamming the door repeatedly against the fan’s leg as the girl banged on the other side of the bathroom door.

“YOU STOLE MY ONE TRUE LOVE!” the fan screamed, the knife stabbing the door.

Y/n flinched backward as the knife sliced into the thin wooden door separating her from the crazy fan. During y/n’s brief reaction, the fan shoved the door open. Y/n fell backward onto the ground. She shouted again in desperation, praying someone heard her.

The fan stood over y/n with a furious expression. “YOU. STOLE. TOM. FROM. ME.” She seethed, leaning closer to y/n as she was flat on her back against the bathroom floor.

Y/n lifted her arms over her head to shield her face. “GO AWAY!” she shouted, kicking at the fan. Y/n gasped as the fan grabbed ahold of y/n’s hair. She used her keys to scratch the fan’s arm of the hand she was holding y/n with.

“STOP FIGHTING ME!” The fan complained, tugging on y/n’s hair. She used her other hand to try and pry the keys from y/n’s hand.

Y/n stared at the fan in bewilderment. “YOU’RE FUCKING CRAZY!” She cried, continuing her kicking and scratching. Y/n faintly heard her phone ringing from the other room. She silently pleaded with the universe for it to be Tom checking on her. If it was, she knew he’d send security over if she didn’t answer.

The crazed fan continued to fight with y/n until y/n spat at her in an attempt to get the girl to back up enough for y/n to get off the floor. The fan glared and hissed at y/n. “THAT’S IT!” She shouted, grabbing the knife from where she’d set it on the bathroom counter; out of reach from y/n. She dropped to her knees and placed the blade against y/n’s throat.

Y/n gulped as terror shot though every fiber of her being. She could keep using her keys, especially now that the girl was close enough for y/n to jab them into her eyes. Only, the knife against her throat made y/n worry the fan wouldn’t hesitate to push the blade into her as a response to such an attempt.

“Drop it, or I’ll make you regret it,” The fan threatened. She smirked when y/n shakingly let go of the keys.

“Okay…” y/n mumbled, wincing as her neck grazed against the knife’s blade as she spoke. “Y-you wanted to t-talk?” She asked rhetorically. “W-we can talk,” y/n offered. Hopefully, she could keep the fan talking long enough for help to reach her.

“No!” The fan scoffed. “I don’t want to talk,” she snarked.

Y/n tried to lean back from the blade, the firm tile of the bathroom floor not allowing her much relief. “B-but, you said-,” y/n argued.

“That was before this!” The fan shouted. She raised her non dominant hand, letting go of y/n’s hair.

Y/n noticed the blood dripping from the fan’s arm. She looked back up at the fan with fearful eyes. “Then… wha-what do you want?” Y/n asked, trying to slide backwards on the tile so she could at least use the wash to sit herself up.

“STOP MOVING YOU STUPID BITCH!” The fan scolded. “I love that man, but I swear he’s an idiot, I don’t how you tricked him into thinking he loves you, but I’m going to help him see the truth.”

Y/n’s eyes widened as she froze. She didn’t know what else there was to do at this point. She’d tried to fight but was out armed. She tried to scream but no one heard. She tried to call security but her phone fell. The only thing left was to try and get the crazy fan to drop her guard slightly.

“I… I… I’m sorry… I…” y/n lied, trying to appear weak and like the fan had cracked her. “What can I d-d-do?” She pleaded with fake tears. “H-how can I h-help? Please, I’ll do anything,” y/n fibbed.

“You- you want to help me?” The fan questioned hesitantly.

Y/n nodded, wincing as the blade scratched her skin. “I.. I had my fun…” she mumbled, hating herself for even lying about it. “I… you’re clearly better for him..”.

“Really?” The fan smiled. “You admit I’m better for Tom?” She asked dreamily.

Bingo. Y/n nodded faintly again, not wanting to say it.

The fan seemed to pick up on y/n’s reasoning. “Say it,” The fan barked.

“W-what?” Y/n questioned.

“Say that I’m better for Tom, that he’d be happier with me,” The fan ordered.

Y/n swallowed, the knot on her throat hitting the blade of the knife still pressed against her. She felt nauseous and her eyes prickled with tears. Tom was the actor, not y/n. But, she didn’t have much of a choice.

“Y-you’re better for Tom,” y/n mumbled. She hoped her shaky voice and watery eyes came across as fake remorse and sorrow for the fan rather than the fear and guilt she felt. When the fan stared at y/n expectantly, y/n fought the desire to tremble as she stared back in terror. “H-he… To-Tom,” y/n corrected herself not wanting to further upset the girl by being vague, “Tom would be happier with you”.

The fan smirked with pride. She tilted her head mockingly at y/n. “I’m glad you finally see it,” The fan commented. “Now, we just need to work on what you’ll say when he gets here.”

“What? He’s-he’s not coming,” y/n stated fearfully. She hoped she was right. She wanted Tom to call security, but she didn’t want Tom to get himself caught up in this dangerous situation.

“Of course he’s coming. He thinks he loves you,” the fan sighed. “He’s wrong, of course.” The fan rolled her eyes. “But no worry, because once we show him that you don’t actually love him like he deserves, he’ll choose me, his true love,” she grinned.

Y/n tensed. “S-show him… That I-“ she mumbled.

“You’ll see. You’re going to tell him that you don’t love him,” The fan explained.

“Or…” y/n whispered, her voice cracking. She knew she’d likely lost her ruse, but she couldn’t help it. She didn’t want to be forced to lie to Tom; especially about this.

“Or, I’ll remove you from the picture myself,” the fan warned. “Then he’ll finally be all mine,” She smiled.

Y/n willed herself not to cry, she had to figure out a way out of this. There was no doubt even if y/n didn’t make of it, the girl would kill Tom too once she saw Tom wasn’t going to fall in love with her the way she thought. Y/n refused to let that happen. She needed to get her and Tom out of this.

Tom ran his hand down his face as he tried dialing y/n’s number again. He’d tried twice already with no response. Granted, they were back to back, so if she was busy with something, there’d been little time to finish and answer the phone. But surely, by him calling a third time, y/n would get the seriousness behind his calls and drop whatever she’d been doing.

Tom felt his whole body go numb as his third call went to voicemail. He closed his eyes as his fear reached an all time high. He looked around to tell someone he had to leave but didn’t see Harry in the hall. Tom didn’t want to waste anymore time so he decided to just leave.

Tom ran to the set door and grabbed his jacket, yanking his keys out before dashing out the door. He threw open his car door and jumped in. He quickly dialed Jones’s phone as he sped out of the parking lot. Tom sighed when Jones didn’t answer, maybe he was already with y/n then.

Tom was only seconds from their street when Jones called him back. “Is y/n okay?! Is she with you?!” He asked after hitting accept. Tom felt a chill rush through him when Jones stated he had no idea what Tom was talking about.

Tom quickly took the corner, speeding even more as he drove closer to his apartment. “Just meet me at my house, NOW!” He shouted as he pulled into the driveway. Tom vaguely noticed Jones commenting that he and another officer were on their way.

When he threw open the front door and didn’t hear an alarm go off, Tom felt his tears rising even more. He clumsily rushed past the blanket fort y/n had made in the living room. “Y/N?! LOVE?!” Tom yelled, moving further into the apartment.

Tom glanced in the kitchen to see if the back door showed any signs of damage. Since the front door was still locked and closed, he hoped he was overreacting. Maybe y/n was just taking a nap.

Tom’s tears fell down his cheeks as he found the broken glass and open back door. “No, no, no, no, no,” he mumbled. He rushed back to the living room. “Please,” Tom whimpered.

Tom went to go up the stairs, stopping when something cracked under his foot. He slowly raised his leg and looked down. He winced as he noticed it was y/n’s phone. Tom lifted it up and saw she’d pulled up Jones’s contact. He felt his heart drop as he faintly heard a struggle upstairs.

Tom threw y/n’s phone down and bolted up the staircase. “Y/N!!” He screamed, taking the stairs three at a time. “PLEASE ANSWER ME!” He pleaded breathily as he reached the top. Tom froze as his head snapped towards the bathroom.

“GET AWAY FROM HER!” Tom belted, sprinting to the end of the hall. “HEY!” He yelled, going to pull on the girl standing over his girlfriend. Tom’s breath hitched as he saw the blade pressed against y/n’s throat.

Tom froze as he stared in fear. He could see the terror and distraught in y/n’s eyes as she was pinned to the ground at knifepoint. Tom breath was shaky as his hands were fisted at his side. He tried to shoot his girlfriend a remorseful look, uncertain if she could see it from her angle. And then, he turned his eyes towards the girl holding her hostage as his eyes lit with fury.

“Back. Away. From. Her. Now.” Tom seethed, his jaw tight as he stared down the crazy fan.

“Tom! Oh my gosh,” The fan gushed. “Hi! Sorry for the mess, Uhh,” she giggled, “not to worry, I’m sure y/n will help clean it up after”.

Tom squinted harshly at the girl. “After? After what?” He asked dreadfully. He tried to look around the girl to see how y/n was doing. His eyes widened upon seeing drops of blood on the white tile flooring. Tom glanced back at the fan, “please. Whatever you want, it’s yours. Take it!” He pleaded.

“Is it money?” Tom questioned, “you can have it. Call my brother and he’ll help get it all out from the bank for you”.

Y/n tried to speak, but her voice was muffled as the fan pressed the flat edge against her more forcefully in warning. She squirmed and debated whether she should try and fight the fan off again now that Tom was here.

“Y/n,” Tom whimpered. “Don’t, please,” he begged, “I’ve got this”. Tom looked back towards the fan with his hands held up. “Just call him, his name is in my phone-".

“Harry, duh. I know your brother’s name, silly,” the fan laughed. “I know all their names! What kind of girlfriend would I be if I didn’t?!” She shook her head in disbelief.

Tom tried to resist looking confused as he slowly nodded. “Okay…” he mumbled, “so… then uhh,.. Yeah, call him and he’ll get you however much you want. It’s all yours. Just, let y/n go, please”.

“I don’t want your money,” the fan tsked.

“You.. you don’t?” Tom sighed in frustration. “Then wh-what do you want?” He asked hopelessly. “Merch? Harry can get that too. Ummm autographs? Tell me what to sign. Umm, do you want-“ Tom rambled, trying to find a solution.

The crazed fan pouted. “I don’t want anything from you babe,” she answered. “Relax, you don’t have to do anything Tommy bear.”

Tom’s breath wavered as he tried to keep his composure. “Then… then wh-why is my girlfriend on the-?” He stopped himself as the fan glared and turned to y/n, gripping the knife tighter. Tom realized his mistake; this fan claimed in her message that she thought she was his one true love.

“Ex,” the fan hissed, turning back to Tom. “Your ex-girlfriend,” she corrected.

Tom swallowed tensely. Even though the statement was false, it didn’t sit well with him. Even more concerning though was that he had no idea where the fan was going with all of this if she already decided y/n was his ex.

“Don’t worry sweetie,” The girl sighed with what sounded like sympathy. “You’re about to hear why that’s a good thing,” she said. “And I’ll be here to help you through it after.”

Tom opened his mouth to ask what exactly the girl meant when suddenly she was ordering y/n to sit up. He flinched forward instinctively when y/n struggled to get into a seated position. Tom only stopped himself when the fan pressed the knife closer to y/n’s skin, grazing it slightly. Ironically, he wanted to move towards y/n even more after that in order to get the knife away from her, but he knew any movement on his behalf could make things drastically worse in seconds; before he would have time to stop it.

Y/n rested her head against the wall of the bathroom. Her cheek brushed against the toilet paper holder installed beside her on the wall. She couldn’t get herself to look at Tom knowing what the fan was about to make her do. The fan had warned/instructed y/n on it prior to Tom’s arrival.

“Okay, speak,” The fan ordered. She moved infinitesimal to the side so Tom could see y/n clearly.

Y/n closed her eyes and shook her head. She no longer cared about the pain that came with such movement. Y/n felt her tears stream down her face as she tried not to shake. Her stomach was in knots and all she wanted to do was throw up.

“NOW!” The fan shouted, her anger rising at y/n’s lack of cooperation.

Tom flinched at the sudden outburst. He kept his eyes focused on his terrified girlfriend. He watched as her eyes opened and he nodded for her to comply with whatever the fan was saying to do. “Y-y/n, it’s okay, just say it,” Tom pleaded softly.

“See, Tom wants the truth,” the girl remarked. “Now,” she glared at y/n, “tell him”.

Y/n whimpered as she held eye contact with her boyfriend. She saw him silently begging her with his eyes to just do it. Y/n sniffled as she closed her eyes. “I… I… I can’t,” she resisted.

“Do it or I swear!” The girl screeched.

Tom saw the wild look in the girl’s eyes and his fear increased. “Y/n,” he whispered. “I.. I want to hear the truth,” Tom mumbled, playing along with whatever the fan was going for.

Y/n squeezed her eyes tighter and shook. She didn’t want to do this. “I… I don’t….” Y/n mumbled, stopping when the fan yelled for her to use full sentences. “I used you,” She lied.

The words tasted vile as y/n spoke her instructed words aloud. “I.. I don’t love you.” She cried, her resulting movement causing the edge of the blade to seep into her skin. “I-I-I never did. I never l-loved you,” y/n repeated as she’d been told to. She felt her body go limp in defeat after uttering the false but nonetheless hurtful words to Tom.

Tom knew what y/n was saying wasn’t true. But, he could see how badly it hurt her to just repeat them. Nonetheless, he knew he had to play along to get the crazy fan to let y/n go. Fortunately, Tom was already crying.

“O-oh,” Tom whispered with pretend shock. “I… I thought…” he sighed, stepping back in hopes the fan would follow him.

“It’s okay,” the fan soothed. “It’s okay Tommy bear, I’m here for you.” “You don’t need her, I can show you what real love is,” she promised.

Tom noticed the fan had moved closer to him, further from y/n. She was still between the two of them with the knife, but it was no longer at y/n’s throat. Tom wiped his eyes dramatically with a frown. “But… I just…. I can’t believe…” he murmured, taking another few steps down the hall.

The fan sighed. “I know, it’s cruel,” she agreed, “but, aren’t you glad to find out before it was too late?”

Tom shrugged as he yet again moved back some, the fan unconsciously following him. He tried to shoot y/n a sign to be ready to run when the girl eventually exited the bathroom, but y/n wasn’t looking at him. He sighed and quickly improvised. “It’s just…y/n,” Tom whimpered, the fan pouting as he seemingly cried over y/n’s ‘declaration’.

Y/n looked up at hearing Tom say her name. She noticed the way he immediately made eye contact with her and then shifted his gaze to the floor. Y/n looked around and realized the crazy chick and Tom had stepped further into the hall. She was no longer at knifepoint.

Y/n quietly slid her hand toward the keys she’d abandoned earlier. She mentally thanked the girl for being stupid enough to not kick them away. Once she had the keys in reach, y/n took a deep breath as she thought of a game plan. She had to be careful, she didn’t want Tom getting stuck in the crossfire or for the fan to flip out on him in retaliation.

Y/n glanced back up at Tom as she heard him still mumbling about his shock over her statement. In doing so, she noticed a shadow in the staircase. Something she assumed the fan hadn’t seen due to staring crazily at Tom. Y/n took one last deep breath before she silently moved for the keys.

Y/n held the keys in her hands and tried to give Tom a warning glance. She then got onto her knees and leaned forward until she dug the keys into the girl’s leg. Y/n nearly vomited at the force she had to use to puncture the girl’s leg more than just a scratch. But, it was enough for her to get the girl to spin away from Tom.

As the fan turned on y/n, Tom rushed forward to try and grab the knife.

Y/n threw herself back to the ground as she prepared for the knife to contact her.

Before Tom could reach the crazy girl, he heard a buzzing sound and the girl fell to her knees, the knife hitting the ground beside y/n. He snapped his head behind him and saw his security guards standing there, one of whom had tased the fan.

Tom tried to run to y/n but one of the guards stopped him. The one with the taser sidestepped him, likely going to grab the crazy girl. But Tom pushed past both of them and ran to the bathroom. He jumped over the spasming fan in the doorway and fell to his knees beside y/n.

Tom sighed as he saw Y/n was still hunched over, waiting for the impact. “I-It’s just m-me, love,” he whispered tenderly before cautiously placing a hand on her back. When she flinched, he pulled his hand back. But, as y/n turned to look up at him with tears in her eyes, he pulled her to his chest.

“Shhhhh I’ve got you,” Tom cooed, rocking y/n lightly. “You’re safe.” “I’m so sorry”. He repeated these words and similar sentiments as they both cried and held onto each other. Tom faintly heard his security taking the girl away, but he didn’t look away from y/n.

“T-t-To-T-To-“ y/n mumbled, tears still flowing down her face.

“Shhh, you don’t have to talk,” Tom assured her, delicately wiping her cheeks. “I’m here, it’s okay now.”

Y/n shook her head as another sob left her body. “I-I… I didn’t mean it!” She cried. “I swear, T-Tom. I didn’t mean any of what s-she-“.

Tom frowned and pulled y/n back to his chest. He rested his lips on the top of her head as he sighed. “I know darling, I know,” he told her. “I know she made you say it,” Tom acknowledged.

Y/n fisted Tom’s shirt as she cried into his chest. “I … I didn’t… I didn’t want to say it…” she cried. “I didn’t mean it. I swear. I didn’t mean it.” Y/n repeated.

Tom listened respectfully as y/n kept repeating herself. He pressed loving kisses to her scalp as he waited for her to calm down. After a few minutes, Tom began replying with a quiet, “I know” each time y/n promised she hadn’t meant what she said.

Tom didn’t know how long this continued. To him it felt like an eternity having to hear y/n’s choked sobs and needless apologies. But, he noticed she suddenly went quiet. Tom cautiously cupped y/n’s face and tilted it so he could see her eyes.

“I love you,” y/n promised. She gazed up into Tom’s eyes and sniffled. “I love you.”

Tom smiled softly at y/n before giving her a quick kiss. “I love you too,” he whispered.

Y/n took Tom’s face in her hands and needily pulled him in for a longer kiss. She closed her eyes as she sunk her fingers into his hair and held him close. Y/n felt a few more tears leave her eyes as she savored the taste of Tom’s lips.

“Are you hurt?” Tom asked when they pulled back, resting his forehead on y/n’s.

“I.. I don’t think so,” y/n mumbled.

“I...-there was… is…blood on the floor,” Tom argued worryingly.

Y/n pulled back and looked over at the spots Tom was referencing. “Oh, I.. I think that’s hers,” she admitted. “I kinda tore up her arm before you got here,” y/n said, eyeing her keys.

Tom hummed and smiled faintly. “I’m so p-proud of you,” he told y/n. He saw y/n’s disagreement and shook his head. “You kept yourself alive until help could come,” Tom argued. “I s-saw you tried to call Jones, you ran, you fought back, you did what you needed to do to survive.”

Y/n sniffled. “I didn’t want to say that… I shouldn’t have-“.

Tom sighed. “I know you didn’t, and I’m sorry you had to. But that’s just it, you had to,” He pointed out. “I know you didn’t mean it. I’m not hurt or mad. I’m thankful you did what you needed to do. I’m thankful you were so strong,” Tom whimpered lightly.

Y/n flattened her lips and nodded. “I’m just glad you’re here. Thank you for c-coming for me.”

“Always. Now, are you sure-” Tom began, stopping suddenly. He abruptly stood up and carefully pulled y/n up with him. “Your neck,” he muttered, gently tilting her chin up for a better view.

“Shit,” Tom hissed, upset he’d momentarily forgotten about seeing the knife slice y/n’s neck. He eyed the thin line with a deep frown. “We need to get you to the hospital.”

Y/n huffed. “Tom, please, I just… I just wanna lay down and sleep,” she cried.

Tom sucked in his lips and nodded in understanding. “Okay. You will,” he promised. “Just after you get that cut looked at,” Tom declared. “Don’t worry, I’m going with you,” he said upon seeing the fear return to y/n’s eyes.

“You didn’t tell me she clawed your back,” Tom sighed, squeezing y/n’s hand as the doctor gave y/n a tetanus booster shot.

“I forgot,” y/n laughed humorously. She sighed, “doesn’t really hurt too much though”.

Tom nodded. “And your throat?” He questioned, eyeing the bandage covering her neck.

“That one hurts like a bitch,” y/n admitted with a quiet laugh. “But, I’ll be fine,” She promised. “But…Tom…. I….” y/n trailed off.

“You what, love?” Tom inquired.

“I don’t really… umm..” y/n sighed and cleared her throat. She immediately winced at the pain that shot through her as a result. Y/n huffed and looked back at Tom, who was watching her with a sorrowful look. “I don’t want to go home… I… I know she’s gone… but…”

Tom nodded rapidly, squeezing y/n’s hand again. “We’re not going back there,” He promised. “W-when the police are umm,… done with their stuff… I’ll have Harry hire some people to help move our stuff out,” Tom stated.

Y/n smiled appreciatively at how Tom had already considered her not wanting to go back there after tonight. “But… Where are we going to stay? You are staying with me still, right?” She asked nervously.

“Of course!” Tom promised. “For now, I can take time off and we can go back to London. Or, we’ll get a hotel or new apartment until the show wraps. Whatever you want darling,” he comforted.

“You need to finish-“ y/n began. She noticed Tom was about to argue with her so she smiled and shook her head. “I want you to finish. But I won’t argue to you taking a few days off right now,” she admitted bashfully.

Tom sighed with relief, not wanting to go back to work just yet. More so, not wanting to be away from y/n again just yet. “Okay, so new place it is, we’ll get a hotel for tonight,” he decided. “Then, figure it out from there,” Tom said softly.

Y/n nodded and smiled lightly at Tom. “Can we go now?” She asked.

Tom chuckled quietly. “Once you’re cleared, darling,” he said, looking at the doctor.

“You’re all patched up, let me just get the discharge paperwork for you to sign and the at-home instructions to take care of your wounds,” the doctor offered with a sympathetic smile. “Then you’re free to go,” he told the couple as he left the room.

Y/n sighed and squeezed Tom’s hand. She was beyond ready to get out of the hospital. To be somewhere comfortable and safe. With Tom.

“In addition to the guards outside,” Tom said, nodding his head towards the door to y/n’s emergency room where a few of his security were. “I tasked Harry with booking the safest hotel he can find. I’m also going to have guards on each entrance to the hotel, and one outside watching our room if we have a patio, and a couple in the hallway by our door, they’ve been told they’ll be working around the clock, and-“ he rambled.

“Tom, I appreciate all of that,” y/n confessed. “But… She’s been arrested. I don’t think we need that many…” she argued.

Tom nodded. “You’re probably right. But… I know you keep saying it’s not my fault….” He sighed. “But, I can’t help it… please just let me do this for you, until things settle down?”

Y/n smiled warmly and nodded. “Okay, thank you.”

“Tom, you can sleep now, we’re safe,” y/n promised, snuggling into his side as he held her.

“I know,” Tom whispered. “I just want to stay awake and just hold you for a bit,” he confessed. “But, please, rest darling, you’ve had a terribly long day,” Tom pleaded, kissing y/n’s forehead.

Y/n hummed quietly as she breathed in Tom’s cologne. “I love you,” she whispered, melting into his embrace.

“I love you too,” Tom replied, smiling down at y/n. “Thank you for being such a fighter today,” he added, tenderly running his thumb over the space between her brows to soothe her. Tom grinned to himself as he watched y/n quickly drift off to sleep. He didn’t know what he would’ve done if things had gone differently today, but he was glad he didn’t have to find out.

Tom Holland Navigation

Peter Parker / Spider-Man

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nouearth · 5 months ago

Text

“'TILL WE SEE STARS”

zane phillips, nico greetham, drew starkey, taylor zakhar perez, tom holland, and oliver stark x male reader.

𝐒𝐌𝐔𝐓— fic [ 14.7k ] 〳 part one

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒—male reader〳make sure to read part one!〳established relationship 〳 collage!au 〳jealous!zane 〳 sexual content: everyone is a top, bottom!reader, cum dumpster!reader, double penetration, gang bang, rough!sex, kissing, spitting, breeding, cumplay, bukkake, blowjobs, handjobs, praising, body worshipping, lots and lots of filthy sex!

You didn’t notice right away.

In your defense, Zane had always been exceptionally distracting, and that would only become harder to refute since you’d been something to him.

Rephrase that—someone.

Someone special, someone of importance, someone that meant something.

You’ve had doubts. Who wouldn’t when even your own friends looked at you with such bewilderment upon introducing him to the small group. Nerds and Jocks don’t mix; a childish verity you and your friends held with high regard since being hit in the face with a ball happened one too many times to brush those instances off as mere coincidences. That, and your snickering high school classmates would since provide you a whole new perspective on that matter.

But you went on to prove your friends wrong, prove that your doubts were meager tricks that only persisted to keep you from exploring out of your comfort zone—from living life to its fullest possibilities. The house that had once shielded you from all cruelties the world and its inhabitants brought with them began to crumble from its residence on a clifftop. Parts that made up the foundation sacrificed themselves in pursuit to bring you home. Wood, stone, red bricks; they catapulted into the ocean, swam on the surface, floated for air, and dived in the deep sea. Farther and farther, they searched for you, hopeful for any signs of life that signaled for your immediate rescue.

Instead, what they found was baffling.

It was you, but it wasn’t you at the same time. Something changed—this growing assurance in your disposition, holding onto a man, large and more than capable to protect, a threat to the house that had kept you safe since birth.

Betrayal, what happened to my son? My boy? My sweet boy?

You could hear the rage in their authoritative voice, but you’ve grown to realize their awful cadence had only been a tactic for you to come back—come back to them—to scare you into being the perfect boy they’ve raised you to be.

Every kiss from the man ignited a fire within you. He forged you with strength, with fortification, with affection—and you uttered a strong defiance, then watched the foundation disintegrate before your very eyes, piece by piece.

***

There was always so much care in Zane’s palms, yet he’d proven you to be exceptionally attentive when he was upset. Like he was trying to persuade you from deviating too far into his worries.

It was embarrassing to admit how long it took for you to piece it altogether—why he was often in a mood, or why he was adamant in making you stay the night at his apartment. You never pondered about it for too long as it never amounted to much. All it took was a night in his bed, watching his favorite shows, kissing and fondling to take his mind off of what was festering inside, and everything returned back to normal. A stressful day at work or practice, you’d reckon as you watched him sleep on your chest, his gentle snores beckoning you to your slumber.

But you began noticing a pattern. It happened every Thursday and Friday. You’d come to his place after tutoring, and he would greet you by the entrance with the most fulfilling kiss. Grappled by his arms around your waist, pulling you flush to his chest, and your lips raptured by his.

“Well, greetings to you too! I brought dinner.”

“That can wait… I missed you,” he would say before swooping you off your feet and fleeing with you into his bedroom.

At the least provocation, he’d proven all too willing to lick into your mouth and shove his greedy hands beneath your shirt. It was a growing tendency that you weren’t inclined to draw to a close because frankly—there was nothing to complain about, other than the cold takeout.

As observant as you usually were, you blamed yourself for not puzzling Zane’s growing possessiveness to your tutoring sooner.

Or maybe you were turning a blind eye, because you anticipated the magnificent nights he’d bestow on you. On those nights, Zane was especially keen to make you take all of him—every inch, every seed, every feeling.

“Swallow it all. I don’t want to see a drop left, baby.” “M-mmfngh—“

All in all, it was beginning to become clear that those days were bothering him. You could feel the tension in the air, the heaviness in your gut as Zane swelled inside of you for the second time of the night, two days in a row.

It was beyond the fact that you tutored—he was fine with that.

It was who you were tutoring.

On Thursdays, you could feel his delusional need to investigate who’d been in your mouth. Tom? Oliver? Taylor? He would suckle on your tongue until you reeled back for a breath, and even then, he wouldn’t stop licking into your mouth.

On Fridays, his hands wouldn’t leave your body. They covertly searched high and low, back to front, squeezing, pulling, roaming, pushing, for any marks, for any evidence of Nico’s presence, of Drew’s marks—but the only blemishes were Zane’s from the day before. A love bite to your neck, and another one to the left of your hip bone.

No one.

You both knew it was the truth—your loyalty to him, but Zane was a madman who was being fed with delusions beyond your control, and in turn, it gifted you the most passionate lover only you could’ve fantasized in novels.

“Oh, g-god. Right there. Don’t go faster, Zane. Don’t slow down. Just like that—“ “Yeah? You like my cock wrecking your pretty hole? Just. Like. That?”

***

“Would it make you feel better if you were with me?” you mentioned out of the blue, the show you two had been watching finally rolled the credits.

“Huh? What are you talking about?” Zane averted his gaze toward you, blindly reaching for the remote and switching the TV off. Then, he pulled you closer into his arms and pressed a kiss to the top of your head. His nose buzzed with delight at the scent of your shampoo.

“Well…” he watched you ponder—your gaze avoidant and wandering unlike the abrupt tension he felt in your body. He opened his arm out of concern, allowing you to properly gather yourself with the newfound space. You sat up and resumed explaining carefully, “I know you don’t like it when I’m… with your friends—alone. Embarrassingly enough, it just hit me—and… well, you seem off these days. And I think it’s because of that.”

It was like being caught in a lie. Not one of those major ones that Zane knew he would commit from beginning to end, but a white lie—a vaulted truth to spare your feelings, even if it meant that it was festering and poisoning him on the inside.

It was an unspoken promise. A natural response. A firm conviction that he should bear your troubles and worries in solitude.

After all, he was your boyfriend, your protector.

“What? Babe—no, what? Have I been acting different? I don’t know. I guess work’s gotten busier, so I guess that could explain…” He was teetering on the edge of revelation or secrecy, stammering until he was one step away from falling.

Zane was never a great liar.

“Come on. You can be honest. Is it because you don’t trust me? Because we study at the library and—“

“No, I absolutely trust you. Don’t say that.”

“I mean, it’s probably weird for me to be hanging out with them—in a way. It makes sense that you’d want to be there, so I get it if you feel hurt or disappointed or—“

“Babe, it’s not—“

“They’re your friends, not mine. I mean, I don’t think they see me as a friend anyway? I’m their tutor, and that’s how it should be…”

“(M/N), wait a second—“

Your hands were theatrical. Grandiose. If you had a symphony playing with you, they’d be performing with fervor, sweating until the grasp on their instruments had slipped at the nearing crescendo, and the audience would gasp altogether to fill the void of abrupt silence.

“I promise, Zane. All I do is give them assignments, like I did with you��well, not like I did with you. We were a little different, weren’t we… but with them? I-it’s like how I tutor everyone else and…!“

You suddenly stood up from the couch, clearly exasperated by the lack of words that could properly support your claims.

“Hey, hey…” he quelled you with a gentle tug to your hand, silently urging you back to his side with a consoling grin. You huffed, sucking in what he could presume to be more self-destructing words, and dramatically let the tension on your shoulders push your body onto his lap.

It wasn’t the right moment to notice, but would you kill him if he felt more inclined to annoy you in the future if this was how charming you always looked? The answer would probably be no. You had a tendency to forgive—a little too easily.

“Then what’s wrong? Is it my fault? Over-cooked your chicken? Ate your protein bar without asking? Got a stain on your hoodie, but I think I washed it out…?” Frowning, you stared back up at him through your eyelashes, chin sunken to your chest, and completely hopeless.

For a moment, he was speechless. It always took one glance from you for Zane to lose his train of thought. Even when you felt all kinds of emotions, there was still that glint in your eyes that never failed to make his heart feel like it was about to burst.

“Kinda is your fault. I mean, if you hadn’t been born with that handsome face of yours, or been blessed with brains and kindness, we wouldn’t be in this situation.”

“Be serious!” Zane felt your body tense up again. You were about to pull yourself off his lap before he rested a hand to your chest and gently pushed you back. “So, there is a problem…”

“It’s my problem, (M/N),” he began soothing your chest in small circles. The cotton soft in his palm before it was inevitably delighted with the firmness of your chest when he slipped a hand under your shirt, resuming his caress.

“I might not have a lot of experience in dating, but I’ve watched a lot of films to know that partners help each other when either one of them have a problem.”

Guilt was quickly catching up to him. Zane could feel its presence looming over his head. Like smog, heavy and thick, and even if it had waned into thin air—completely obliterated to the back of his mind—Zane was confident he would be suffering from the ramifications of it in the future.

“God… what am I going to do with you,” he dipped forward and buried his head into your body, using your shirt to muffle his conflicted groans.

It was those eyes of yours again. He couldn’t bear to face you with the secrets he’d been withholding, but he was already in this predicament. Ignoring it, even after being called out on his behavior, would just make things worse than if he would just tell you the truth.

He waited for seconds. Then seconds turned into minutes. Then those remaining minutes were spent sighing at the softest strokes you brushed through his hair, to occupy the silence, or to break the tension between you two. Either way, his heart felt heavier despite your comforting attempts.

With a mutter, Zane turned his head towards you and looked truthfully into your eyes, “Yeah, I’m jealous.”

You immediately perked up to join him at his side again, taking his hand into yours, “Zane, I promise—nothing happens…”

“No, I know, (M/N). I trust you. I mean, what can I say? I miss you. Our schedule isn’t aligning like I thought it would, and it feels like I’m seeing you less since you’ve taken Tom, Drew, Taylor… all of them for tutoring.”

“I can cut back? Maybe arrange the meetings to fit your schedule, and that way we can—“

“No, absolutely not. I’m not going to be that type of boyfriend.”

“Well, I can’t just sit here and watch you suffer.” Zane watched you play with his fingers, clamping your hand to his, then unclasping as his thoughts prolonged another silence.

“You have no idea, (M/N). I… God, it’s all fucked up.” He rubbed his face to comfort himself, groaning into his palms before taking your hands into his again.

Nothing calmed him more than simply holding you.

“What? It’s just about us not spending enough time together, right? Maybe I’m too optimistic, but that seems like something that can be easily resolved…”

“No—I mean, yes. That’s the problem, but it isn’t the main problem…”

“Then… what is?”

From the corner of his eye, he watched you physically brace yourself, straightening your posture like the suspense had been literally killing you and your insides. You took one deep exhale, preparing yourself for the worst while Zane fished for his phone, and scrolled through his messages.

He began explaining.

Taking tutoring lessons was the last thing on the team’s mind. For Zane and Nico, it was a simple affair. Their grades were dropping like flies, and their coach didn’t like the sight of that, or the consequences that would follow. If they didn’t take their grades seriously, how could Coach trust them to lead the team? How can they lead the team with discipline—if they severely lacked it themselves? Zane was warned of this predicament for multiple semesters, and it was only recently when he began taking it seriously.

He’d never received a letter from his coach before, and as laughably traditional as it was, he’ll forever remember the sinking feeling in his chest when he read the last paragraph of his coach’s handwriting:

Fix your grades by the end of the semester, or you’re out. No more second chances. You’re great, but not that great for me to put your future in jeopardy. Sorry, I should’ve been harder on you.

Without much arguing, he did as he was told. Week by week, month by month, Zane and Nico’s grades improved tremendously, and the threat of being kicked off the wrestling team was delayed for another semester. However, as much as the guys were impressed by their success, Zane couldn’t owe the credit to solely himself. You were a major part of his triumphant journey, and the team would since become greatly fond of you and your saving contributions to the group.

Maybe it was inspiring to watch Zane and Nico dig themselves out of a rut, an underdog story that everyone loved rooting for in the movies. Or maybe it was some kind of unspoken brotherhood, where if one was struggling, then the other would join them in their agony to establish some type of rapport. Because soon after, Zane’s teammates found themselves in an awfully similar situation to him and solicited your service.

But Zane knew his teammates.

Zane knew that this decision was completely out of left field. Taylor, Tom, Drew, Oliver; it was strange to see all of them suddenly feel the need to seek out a tutor—specifically you out of all the available people—to help them with their studies.

It was odd to listen to them complain that their grades had been dropping, apparently lower and lower with every passing week.

And again, Zane knew his teammates.

He spent every waking second with them since they’d met each other as freshmen; aligned every course with the guys so he’d come into class knowing at least one person; visited each other’s house on semester breaks because why the hell not—it was on the drive home. For god’s sake, all of their parents knew the team by government name, siblings if they had any, and even their own aspirations in life.

They were teammates, but they were also best friends.

So, Zane had every right to call this entire arrangement as bullshit.

They weren’t struggling with their grades. Tom and Taylor were honor students. Oliver was a teaching assistant. Drew was interning for a marketing firm that made Zane’s eyes hurt when he snooped through Drew’s emails, and looked at the qualifications for the rather imposing position.

Bullshit, bullshit, bullshit.

They were fucking with him.

Or to better clarify—trying to fuck with you.

Trying to fuck you.

It was Zane’s fault. He wasn’t clear that he was actually serious about his relationship with you, and that unlike his previous relations, there was no sharing with the team. All hands were off—should be off—and the only ones you’d be holding were Zane’s.

No.

That didn’t sound right.

It was their fault. It had to be their fault. They were the ones talking about you like they had never seen a pretty boy in their life, like they had never seen a man sharing this dreadful place we call Earth. A man with those pretty eyes, smiling with that pretty mouth, frowning with those pretty cheeks, typing with those pretty hands—the team would practically brand you as theirs with every session they’d return from studying with you, and they boasted about it all to Zane’s face.

Maybe it was his fault after all.

Zane loved bragging about you. It wasn’t something he often did with his previous partners, but something about you changed him. Zane loved showing your selfies off to his friends. One day he’d marvel how soft your lips were, the next he’d go on a tangent about what an incredibly kind person you were for finding someone’s lost dog. It was all arbitrary. As long as it was framed around you, the topics bounced from your looks to your body to your personality, and to his surprise, his friends would chime in too.

Increasingly more, as they would get to know you following every meeting.

The worst part was that Zane allowed it to happen and found himself encouraging this behavior he was scrutinizing. The group chat was complete evidence of his participation, and with every message, he could physically feel the jury slipping out of his favor.

Drew: I shouldn’t have doubted you, Zane. There’s something about your boy’s eyes…

Tom: Oh god. Does he always look at you like that, Zane? I don’t know how you can handle it. I have to physically hold my crotch to keep myself from coming in my pants.

Taylor: Can we talk about his lips, though? They’re so plump. I couldn’t help but stare at them. He does that cute thing where he chews on his lip when he’s grading.

Oliver: I wonder what he does when his mouth is filled. Zane? Care to give us a hint, please? Or shall we give him a visit and demo for ourselves…?

Zane: Hm, I’ll just say that… (M/N)’s learning very quickly on how to breathe through his nose and relax his throat. Though, that doesn’t stop the noises from coming out of his mouth.

Nico: Always had a thing for nerds… He suck you off with his glasses on or no?

Zane: On.

Drew: Oh, c’mon…

Taylor: Shit. I’m getting hard.

Tom: Fuck. Me too.

Nico: Lucky bastard… It should’ve been me!

Oliver: Never mind. This is so much better than what I could’ve imagined.

Zane laid it all out onto the table for you. His phone was a bar of gold in your hand as you scrolled and read through the messages pertaining you between him and his friends. The more recent the texts were, the more explicit and brazen.

Taylor talked about a dream that he had of you, where you allowed him to kiss you wherever he pleased if he got a question right. This was as innocent it would get. His hand would be shoved into your pants while he would kiss at your neck, licking into your whimpers.

Tom texted about the random hard-ons he’d sport when he was with you. Something as simple as watching you lick your lips was enough to get him off for the night.

Drew daydreamed about you giving him a hand job in the library. The rush of being nearly caught, and the flood of embarrassment blooming on your neck and face resulted him coming within your fist. You’d hover your free hand beneath his cock, to catch the flood of cum, because you were a kind person who didn’t want to make a public mess. And because you were such a kind person, you’d slurp his cum off your palm, right then and there, before Drew’s very eyes.

Nico was the most yearning. Perhaps it was because he always played second fiddle to Zane’s leadership, and that reflected onto his fantasies, but he missed hearing your praises. Praises that consisted of how good he was at solving this problem; how proud you were when he went out of his way to do more problems than what was assigned to him; how nice he felt when he pushed his warm cock inside of you for the first time. You’d overwhelm him with so many compliments, so many kind words, that it wouldn’t take much for him to come inside of you.

Oliver was a brazen man. He spoke without thought, without a filter, and if it came to Zane’s decision, he would want to publish a book full of Oliver’s lewd fantasies about you. He wanted to fuck you. Point blank period. It wasn’t up for debate. He would make you take him in the car if he could. Bent over the backseat, while he pounded into you out in the parking lot, or maybe in the woods if you preferred seclusion. And when he was done with you, he’d leave you there dripping, inhaling another smoke to work up another appetite, as if the image of his cum leaking out of you and down your legs hadn’t strung up his cock like a puppet with every passing second.

“It’s a lot, I know,” Zane’s voice broke you from the spell that was his friends’ fantasies. You blinked rapidly to ward off the explicit images festering. He was reading them with you, the illusions silently feeding you and him simultaneously. “Listen, if you want to call it quits, I understand. But I just—I love… seeing them talk about you like that. It makes me… so proud. Powerful—knowing that they can’t ever lay their hands on you, as long as I’m in the picture.”

“But… you said you were jealous? I don’t understand—” You fidgeted uncomfortably against him. Zane took no mind to it, especially since you seem to be taking the information better than he’d thought, but your constant squirming was beginning to be a cause of concern. He blindly opened his arm for you, allowing you to snuggle into his side.

“Yeah, well… I guess riling your friends up and feeding into their fantasies has some consequences. I like it when they talk about you to me, but… I don’t know, I guess I imagine what they would do to you if you were alone with them and it makes me worried, yet aroused? It’s… confusing, I know. I don’t get it either—Babe, are you okay? You keep moving.“

“No, continue—it’s just—“ you groaned, pressing closer to his side and crossing your legs. “Is that why you’ve been extra affectionate? I mean, you always have been, but I swear, I think we have sex almost every day—or is that normal? Not that I don’t love it. I don’t want you to get tired of me or something.”

“First off, never going to happen. I could never get tired of you. And… it might be normal depending on who you’re asking… Might be our new normal, if I’m being honest. I can’t help that you’re so irresistible—okay, what’s going on—” For a couple more seconds, Zane endured you fiddling with the blanket on your lap before suddenly tugging it off and freeing you of your agony, or whatever was the reason of your constant writhing.

He glanced down at your lap, and your reflex was quick to hide it—whatever was near your pelvis. It was hard seeing you in the dark with the TV and his phone switched off. The moonlight filtered through the blinds on his windows, but it was only enough to highlight parts of your face, not enough to illuminate the entire living room.

Without a warning, Zane reached in between your thighs and frisked whatever that had come into contact with his palm. He raised an eyebrow at the sudden hitch of your breath, feeling nothing but the leather of the couch in his palm—until he moved it higher, toward your lack of an attempt at shielding, and pushed your hand aside.

“Oh,” it didn’t take long to guess what was in the palm of his hand. He could trace the shape of it in his sleep if he was asked to. Write the exact measurements as he recalled numerous nights with you if he was quizzed on it, even if majority of his calculations relied on his grip.

Zane knew you very well, and he especially knew what he was squeezing—gently kneading until those familiar sounds poured out of you like freshly squeezed orange juice.

Ah, there it was.

It was his boy’s cock.

“Don’t get mad—“ you warned, pausing Zane’s kneads with a gentle grasp, but he persisted, only challenging the tightness in your shorts in the end.

“Why would I be mad? You’re not mad?” his voice traveled ticklishly to your ear. He’d pulled you closer, whispering while his hand was all synonyms of tantalizing.

“Is it wrong to say that I’m not? Is this was what you felt like…? I’m confused and horny, and it��s all a mess, Zane…” you groaned when his hand into the leg opening, eagerly reaching for your stiff arousal.

“God, sorry—let’s just… talk about this later. Fuck, come on.”

“Y-yeah, good idea.”

***

“They never heard yours.”

It was cool and lulling—the baby wipe Zane was cleaning you down with. Just when you thought Zane couldn’t have gotten more attractive, the concentrated look on his face while he wiped the sweat and sticky residue off your torso made your flaccid cock twitch, his biceps bulging like they were still strenuous from holding you against the wall a few minutes prior.

Zane raised a curious brow at your vagueness and your renewed arousal altogether before chucking the wipes in a bin and tucking himself to your side. “What do you mean?”

At the advance of his arms around your waist, you turned in your position to face him, pulling him close by the hips. “Your fantasy. They all told you about theirs, but you never did. Just makes me curious… on what yours is?”

Zane pondered, his thumb pondering with him as it chased after an internal beat, a rhythm over your lower back. In the meantime, you surveyed his face, like you always did post-sex. His moles were attractive, his eyebrows and lips deliciously full, and his eyes—beautiful windows to his beautiful soul.

You were the luckiest man on earth.

“You can’t judge me, all right?”

He jolted you back from your studying, an uncertain air emanating from his disposition.

You took his cheek in your hand and squeezed him with assertion. “I would never!”

Your constant kneading made him loosen up. He exhaled deep, looking dubious, but compiled trust into your eyes in the end—because it was just a fantasy, right?

One.

BIg.

Fucking.

Dream.

Finally, Zane confessed.

“Gangbang…”

“Oh…!”

***

Zane didn’t know what to expect. He had to admit that you looked uneasy when he brought up the topic of having a safe word. As basic as it was, the traffic light system was ideal as vanilla as it was, especially for something as daunting as someone’s first gangbang.

Plus, you were getting a little too creative with the safe words.

“What about… peanut butter cup..?” “Eh… think that’s a little too long, babe.” “Ghost!” “You might freak Tom out. He apparently had an ‘apparition’ back at his grandma’s house.” “Sheep?” “Sounds like ‘shit,’ which can be misconstrued as “shit, keep fucking me!"” “Hm… pickle?” “Gross! You know I hate pickles!” “You don’t eat words, Zane!”

As hopeful and convincing Zane could be, the last thing he would’ve thought was you agreeing to this—without much hesitation too, might he add.

“Can you move okay?” Zane stepped aside for you to walk from one end of his bedroom to the other. It wasn’t much distance, but it wasn’t like you needed an ample amount of space to begin with.

You took the open floor to demonstrate your ability to walk. It seemed simple enough. You did it every day. One foot after the other, step by step, leisurely and calmly and—

“Oh—“ you stiffened after the first step and froze in place. One leg methodically moved back and forth to gauge the restrictive mobility. “It feels a little… tight?”

“We can go a size smaller, but it should be a little uncomfortable. Plus, you’re not going to be walking much? Hopefully…” Zane calmly reasoned, maneuvering you like a mannequin. His hand was searching high and low for any physical indications that a butt plug was lodged inside of you—pressing when the flange toy protruded a centimeter more than he had liked.

Your breath hitched and then you shook your head, deciding the size was adequate adequate enough, and resumed walking normally. One couldn’t have noticed any oddities, as long as they ignored the rigidness of your posture.

The feeling came out of the blue—you wanted to impress them. After all, you were the star of the night. Zane’s confession had been simmering in your thoughts for a few days, especially one comment when he described how powerful he felt knowing his friends wanted you, but couldn’t have you.

You wanted to make Zane proud. If the humblest of all brags turned his friends into complete brutes, you couldn’t imagine how they would act when they all have had a turn to explore your body inside and out, and never again. Dogs. Monsters. Yet they’d worship every sovereign step that Zane would take like they were indebted to his graciousness, like they were his men of labor, all for one more night with you again.

You wanted more than to make Zane proud. You wanted to make him feel like a king.

Three knocks at the door, and the long-awaited fantasy was a door away from becoming a reality. You tailed stiffly after Zane, the kiss he quickly granted you before jogging to the entrance like a spell to your pursuit—like a hex to the tension Zane knew all-so-well.

Zane looked back once more, a nod of assurance padded by a bright smile, and you exhaled out the tightness in your chest.

Let the party begin.

***

“Let’s make it… easier for you, babe. Warm you up instead of abruptly starting?”

“Yeah—that sounds fine to me.”

“You’ll spin the bottle, and whoever it lands on can initiate the first step. No more than a minute. Then, you’ll spin the bottle again—second person goes, so-on and so-on. Sound good? More organized that way, right? And you can get a feel of everyone’s… vibes without it being overwhelming. Fellas? Any objections?”

“Sounds good to me, Zane.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Yeap.”

“Mm-hm.”

“No complaints here.”

The slower the bottle spun, the faster your heart beat. Your eyes moved from one man to the next, as if you were the empty beer bottle itself. The group formed a circle in the middle of the living room, small but enough to accommodate for seven men: You, Zane, Taylor, Oliver, Nico, Tom, and Drew; in that order of the circumference. Other than the guys catching up with you—small talk about your tutoring, their assignments, dinner, new dogs, and whatnot—conversations were kept to a minimum.

All seven of you knew why you were here altogether, and they weren’t keen on drawing it out for any longer.

“You guys just came back from the gym?” Zane asked after taking a sip of his beer. You reached for his bottle, feeling parched, and he passed it to you with a composing grin, lingering to watch your expression sour as the bubbles tickled your throat.

“Yeah—was going to hit the showers, but then we would’ve been late,” Taylor explained, and the rest of the guys nodded in between sips of their beers, comically attentive to the slowing bottle. You took a silent whiff of the heavy musk radiating off of the five men; your dick twitched.

“Oh shit, who’s it gonna be?! First stud of the night!” Tom bowed his body forward and began drumming the floor in faux suspense. You laughed and joined in on the increasing drum rolls, the others including yourself finding his anticipation infectious as laughter spread amongst the group like a virus—the seven pairs of hands drumming on the floor altogether being part of the symptom.

There was nothing to be worried about, was there?

This was going to be fun.

A blast.

A bang.

The bottle slowed, passing pairs of bare feet in its rotation. Multiple postures straightened as if they could compel gravity to direct the bottle towards them, but then Drew’s slumped when it passed him, then Taylor’s, and a domino effect of lost hope was rippled—all except for one.

A chorus of oohs broke out when it stopped on Nico—Zane’s right-hand man. It must’ve been an inside joke between all six of them because Oliver made a comment about how Nico was finally having his moment, and they all erupted into another fit of laughter, cutting the tension in the air one chuckle at a time.

“You’re up!” Zane beckoned with a nod. You took another glance at him, nothing of concern, but rather to alleviate his own worries by the way he suddenly gathered his hold on your hand, and then pecked him on the lips and cheek. He smiled, returning the peck onto your lips before whispering into your ear, “Show ‘em what a lucky man I am.”

“Whew, all right..!” Nico propped himself up with a hop.

Nico made his way towards you and pulled you to the middle of the circle. Even knowing that you read his messages, he still carried that dashing smile like it was a weapon. One that regularly caused destruction on many hearts, one that charged your own like it was a battery—you just now discovered how disruptive dimples could be.

He was a sly man. Two-faced even, and you anticipated to discover this other side of him that he’d been reluctant to show.

“Hi—again,” Nico whispered through a smile. You found it charming how he couldn’t contain his glee. Dimple to dimple, they were like two separate smiles of their own, bracketing the salient beam from widening any further.

You wanted to peek over at Zane when Nico pressed his nose to yours, taunting himself—taunting you with the suspense of his soft-looking lips. But Nico’s hand on your nape was absolute and refusing, holding you like you were a weakening star—his dying wish, and made you fix his eyes on him, as he had done for you all this time. “Sorry you had to find out this way, but… I have a crush on you.”

“No—it’s fine. It’s why we’re here, right?” You braced one hand over Nico’s lap and the other on his broad chest. Sturdy, well-defined muscles graced your palm with every caress.

“Yeah… what a way to reciprocate my feelings…”

Slowly, you felt Nico’s breath warm your lips before they were taken hostage by his pair of reds, mirroring the close of his eyes upon noticing. The room fell to a silence, watching like hawks, closing in between the two bodies for front seating of the kiss.

He started gentle; soft lips moving against softer lips, careful to avoid hitting your glasses, your gasps and his groans filling your mouth with fulfillment. One hand of Nico’s maintained on your nape while the other rested on the small of your back, to pull you closer, to feel the skin hidden beneath polycotton. His hand was warm as he roamed; big as he held at nothing but something all at once; inquisitive as his fingers would occasionally dip into the waistband of your shorts.

The longer it goes on, the harder the kiss was. Nico’s mouth was illusive, now hard and abrasive to train your mouth open, and then stay open as he licked into your mouth and explored with his curious tongue. Your ears perked at an envious comment from one of the guys, but it was quickly hushed following the sound of your moans. Nico wrapped his mouth around your tongue and sucked with ardency, mining any possible sounds out of you like they were Earth’s greatest treasure. Your tongue reeled back in growing desire to tick a kink off of Nico’s bucket list, smooching a few more times on the lips, holding his cheek, and then whispering into his warm mouth with a bated breath as his hand halted its lone venture up the opening of your shorts.

“You’re a great kisser, Nico…”

“Time!”

A timer sang from your side, and a web of spit tailed your lips as you pulled away, letting your gaze linger to catch Nico’s heightened arousal in his eyes before returning to your seat.

“Fuck..,” chuckles spread from man to man when Nico returned, exhaling and shaking all sorts of trembles out of his body. Oliver and Tom aided with hard smacks to Nico’s back, sharing the thrill of the kiss simultaneously.

“Was that okay?” You whispered to Zane, fixing your glasses while the rest of the guys debriefed on Nico’s fulfillment. A collection of comments such as, “I’m fucking jealous…”, “Did you see the way he looked at you? Fucking sexy…”, “God, I hope it’s me next,” made you squirm in your seat.

Your mission from all of this was to make Zane proud, but it wouldn’t hurt if you gifted yourself a slight ego-boost in the meantime, right?

“You did… fucking perfect. I think you’re riling them up—riling me up too, actually,” he muttered, briefly maneuvering your hand to demo the boner in his shorts before returning back to his duties as the host. “Okay, settle down! Babe? Next spin, please? Think the team’s getting a little antsy.”

You surveyed the room again. Nico was subtly pushing down on his crotch while Drew, Tom, and Oliver were casual about it, openly massaging themselves through their shorts, their eyes wandering towards you with repose. If you hadn’t had the decency to look away, you could’ve indulged in their thick prints for a little longer.

But duty called. You reached for the bottle and spun it, bating the men with the suspense of who was going to be next in line in warming you up.

The crown of the bottle stopped parallel to Taylor, who was slouched on his elbows like he’d been expecting it—rigged it with his mind if telekinesis was more than hypothetical. He greeted you with provocation, flashing his brows and a smug smile all at once, then a wink, before joining you in the middle. You always found him intimidating. It was probably those eyelashes of his. They were always fluttering, even when you would go over his notes—he would blink and stare once knowing it was effective enough to render you speechless. As naive as it sounded—it felt like Taylor was adept to anything and everything, including whatever he was about to do to you.

And you were absolutely correct in that hypothesis—because Taylor immediately began stripping you down. It was inevitable, but you didn’t expect all of you to be bared within the second spin.

“Seems like Taylor’s on a mission.” Oliver laughed, catching your briefs and taking a whiff at it before passing it to the group. One by one, you watched each person press their nose to the center of your briefs, and inhale. Comments on the smell of your arousal made your dick twitch again. Harder, when Drew and Oliver engrossed themselves in the fine stain of pre-cum and took multiple lingering whiffs in hounding the sweet musk again. You’d think you laced them with some kind of potion—an elixir that amplified their excitement through every vein in their body, from hands to cock.

From head to toe, your clothes came off and were tossed aside, and you let Taylor’s spirit of inquiry explored as he pleased. Sprawling your arms and legs out like he was frisking you, smacking the back of your thighs like he was a butcher examining the quality of fresh meat. You groaned when he loitered at your naked body, noticing the constellation of goosebumps on your chest to the dimples on your backside—all with a glaze of his hand. Taylor’s fingers followed every contour of your body—from spine to muscle—studying you and the smallest reactions you’d spare him with pleased eyes as he smacked, kissed, smoothed, and licked the canvas that was made of skin and bone. You were a sculpture carved by the Renaissance, and Taylor was a curator, assessing your value through the warmth of his mouth, the slick of his tongue, and the kneads of his hands.

“Oh, what do we have here?” His mouth was on your stomach, closely tending to the warm skin with kisses, while his hand was on your rump, prodding at the plug that had been confined in you for the entirety of the day. “Guys, jackpot. (M/N) came with a surprise.”

“I-it wasn’t my idea—“ Heat rose high to your neck when Taylor turned you around and showed your ass off to the ogling group of men. While he was at it, he mind as well brand you with a price tag—right on your ass cheeks, where Taylor smacked each side once, massaging them with a firm knead, and spread you open.

“Holy shit…” Tom muttered while he stood on his knees, taking in the sight of your plugged hole. You impulsively squeezed your thighs together, covering your growing erection at the marveling shared between the six men. There was a wonder in Zane’s expression, resembling the first time he undressed you before his very eyes.

“You like teasing us, don’t you?” Drew said when your glutes tensed, and the room hummed with the soft susurrus of agreement. “Pretty thick ass too, jesus—“

“Time,” Zane stopped the alarm after a ring, sighing in between kneads to his bulge.

Five of the guys collectively groaned from the cliff-hanger while Taylor gave your hard ass a smack in midst of returning to his seat. “See how considerate I can be? You’re welcome, fellas!”

You jolted, gulping at the budding sting. It was becoming a habit to seek for Zane’s approval after every turn, and fortunately you did—because unbeknownst to Taylor, Zane was staring him down, a furious and annoyed look on his face that quickly simmered when he caught your gaze.

“Spin, please.”

The next stop was Tom—Eager Tom. He’d been making comments on your body since he stepped foot inside the apartment, so it was expected that his turn would be based on personal whims. Although, you reckoned that the plug inside of you turned the tides.

Making you kneel on all fours, Tom slowly twisted the plug in and out of you while the group gathered from behind and intimately watched. You clenched at the base, stifling your groans into the back of your hand upon the group’s growing fascination with the sight of your swelling pucker.

“Fuck, look at that pretty rim…” Oliver mumbled, and Tom took it as a hint to trace the border of your hole with his finger, lone yet devious.

“If it looks that appetizing, imagine how it tastes,” Drew covertly suggested.

Tom hummed in thought while toying thoughtlessly with your hole—into your hole. “Not much of an ass-eater, maybe I should hand that task off to someone more capable… What do you think, (M/N)?”

“P-please… anyone is fine—”

As the tip neared its exit, you desperately held onto the last bit of latex that kept you from baring it all—thighs vibrating from the difficulty, toes curling as Tom screwed—but your muscles were as weak as Tom’s patience, and you naturally gave into his tortuous wrenching, clamming up him when he suddenly plunged the plug back into you, then completely bloomed—when Tom finished you off with a tyrannical yank.

“O-oh, god!” You yelped loud as you bared yourself for the group. Deep waves of heat trampled over your body and swam into every course of vein as one person after the other, from Tom to Drew to Nico to Oliver to Taylor to Zane, moaned in chorus at the sight of your budding insides.

Your chest laid flat on the floor, your glasses tossed and forgotten, your hips and ass raised high, your cock throbbed towards the floor—you suddenly buckled your hips when you felt a wad of spit launched directly at your blinking hole.

Then another, and another, and then three consecutive more, until your hole felt completely, and utterly drenched—one from every man you presumed as you laid there, writhing and dripping.

“Fuck, so pretty when it’s glistening like that,” Tom groaned. You could hear fabrics moving, see clothes coming off when you peeked from your position, and your cock throbbed at the smallest glimpse of Tom’s naked body, followed by Oliver’s, and then so on.

“Time,” Zane said again, then a second later rescinded his announcement, rubbing an affectionate hand over your back for you to look up. “Actually, fuck this—baby, you’re okay with us starting now? I don’t think we can handle it anymore… yeah?”

“Y-yeah, no—I can’t wait any longer—oh!” Suddenly, you felt something wet breach your hole. Unrelenting in its expedition as it flicked and wiggled the group’s load of spit inside of you, sliming you up from inside and out.

“Sorry, (M/N). Drew hasn’t had dinner yet—come on, up and at ‘em,” Oliver steered you back on all fours with a rough pull to your shoulders, and knelt himself before you. He pushed your hair back once, admiring the sweat beading over your hairline, the increasingly dismayed look on your face when someone—Taylor—spread and smacked your ass apart for Drew to lick and devour inside you completely. “And neither have you. Open.” You couldn’t even hesitate as Oliver worked at lighting pace. He hooked his thumb into your mouth, pulled it open, spat a thick load of spit where your tongue deftly caught it, and pushed his thick cock into your mouth—all in one neck-braking motion.

“Fuck…” Oliver moaned at the warmth of your mouth. His eyes rolled, but the sight of your lips wrapped around his veiny dick was holier than the overhead lights spotlighting you from above, so he did his best to maintain his composure, working your mouth open with the girth of his cock—slow and steady.

At least Oliver was generous enough to not shove himself down the back of your throat, but still—your throat spasmed nonetheless when he shoved himself deeper with a tug to your nape. Upon the hit to your throat, you abruptly pushed him out with your tongue and a gag, launching into a coughing fit.

“Loosen up on him, will you? He bruises easily,” Zane muttered, noticing Oliver’s fingers turning eggshell-white upon taking your name in his hand. Although, that didn’t stop Zane’s hand from fisting his cock. If anything, it pulsed merrily at the sound of your throat resisting.

“He’ll use his safe words, right? You’re fine? Tell me if you need a break,” As much as Oliver was large and imposing, his body a thick and study mass akin to Zane’s, his eyes were made of sugar. An uncanny color for those soluble carbohydrates, but it was fitting, considering your body melted from the way he looked fondly at you and petted at your cheek. “Pretty.”

“I-I’m fine…” You said with a bated breath and nodded to Oliver with assurance. Then again, when Zane’s hand pushed your hair back and remained on the crown of your head. “I’m fine. Promise.”

“I know. I trust you.” He bent down to soothe the swell of your lips with a lingering kiss before delivering a smack to your ass and pulling away with a renewed disposition. “Suck his cock like how you suck mine. Properly, this time.”

“Fuck—“ Your body propelled forward from the never-ending feast on your puckering hole. Out of curiosity, you peered over your shoulder and instantly found yourself regretting it. It was unavoidable. Your cock leaking in agony, watching Nico, Taylor, and Drew take turns at licking stripes over your hole. Hungry animals.

On Drew’s turn, he caught your gaze in midst of his licks and came to a sudden halt. He then widened his tongue over your crack and with a leaden pace, laved his tongue over your crease like he was cleaning the last bit of crumbs off his plate, smug and teasing in his scheme to make you break.

“No more distractions, yeah? That’s not the way you treat your boyfriend’s friends.” A grappling hook to your nape tore your eyes back to your front, and your mouth was instantly filled again with the heavy weight of Oliver’s musky cock. Your hands were braced on the floor, clutching at nothing but the installed security of wood panels, as Oliver rocked into your mouth. Your cheeks hallowed progressively, adapting to the stretch of your mouth when he tested the depth of your throat numerous times before finally committing and sinking his cock into the back of your mouth, into your throat, with one gratified push.

“Good boy. Hold it, hold it, don’t move. Just relax…” Zane heartened by your right side, reaching in between your legs and fondling with your cock as he’d been doing with his own. Upon the welling of tears, you clamped your eyes shut for comfort, and nearly choked back on your own spit, impulsively squeezing around Oliver’s cock.

“Oh, shit… holy fuck, guys.” Tom was marveling at your left. You peeked your eyes open and caught a glimpse of his hand spit-shining his long, veiny cock, twisting deliciously eager over his plump glans near your temple, the sticky sound of his spit loud and clear in your ear. “Jesus, Zane wasn’t lying when he said you could take dick like no other.”

Oliver’s balls were pressed flush to your chin, your mouth was stuffed into the unshaven hairs of his pubic area, your nostrils was flared from arousal at the salty scent of the dried sweat within vicinity, and your throat was plugged with a glorious amount of thick and heavy cock.

“There we go, that’s it. Good,” Oliver moaned, tenderly massaging your nape while cutting off the supply of oxygen at the same time. “You’re a good boy, aren’t you? Doing everything we want, huh?”

“Mmfgh!” Your moans muffled in the cramming of his swollen cock as Oliver began patting and squeezing your cheeks, tightening the suction of your mouth by curling his body overhead, and simply pushing deeper.

Swelling harder, throbbing, the longer you endured. You’d learned how to breathe through your nose when it came down to this, but you still had difficulties relaxing your tongue. It wasn’t surprising when ample amounts of saliva began leaking out of your mouth. More spilled out when Oliver pulled you back a centimeter, only for the course of action to halt with another plunge of his cock, somehow sinking deeper down your throat.

“Think he can fit another one?” Nico halfheartedly joked, the last one to crawl over and join the group in their sight-seeing. His cock was hard, veins bulging in a way that made you delirious because Oliver alone was enough to make you overwhelmed in the best way possible.

You couldn’t possibly imagine another cock lodged in.

“Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it, right, babe?” Zane tugged on your cock harder. He pulled at your balls, thumbed the piss-slit, and stroked your shaft with the pre-cum that had been dripping in solitude. “So wet, you’re so fucking wet from being used like this.”

Finally, you were graced with the precious taste of air. Oliver slowly pulled his dick from the depth of your throat, and the group moaned at the sight of your throat simultaneously deflating from its bulge.

Your throat was sore, but it was worth it. Moving your eyes from one man to another, it was finally registering what a dream this was. All of them were exceptionally fit with sweat proudly highlighting their training. All of them sported deliciously thick erections with multiple sights of pre-cum dripping like molasses to taunt you. What was more important was that all of their eyes were on you—something as minuscular as a blink would set them off, and they’d restart the non-existent staring battle between you and the group again.

They were as breathless as you were, and your heart was pumping with the sickening volume of their cocks being cordially stroked, their pecs and biceps brawny and bouncing from the exhilaration you’d been supplying them.

It was fucking worth it.

Under Zane’s conducting, the team flipped you onto your back, cushioning your body with multiple throw pillows, and surrounded themselves around you again, where you could properly watch them pleasure their cocks with the lube Zane had distributed as they kneeled over you. Then, Taylor made the decision for himself to slot his body beneath you, embracing you from behind and using his arms around you to hold your legs and hips back, positioning his freshly lubed cock near your hole.

“You smell good,” Taylor commented at the scent of your cologne, kissing madly into your neck as he found the source. You gulped, feeling him staring again through those eyelashes of his. With one hand, he turned your cheek to face him, his lips nearing and over yours, but never meeting. Lingering, breathing, gazing, indulging—you both surveyed each other’s features. Watching your soft but swollen lips, watching his sharp but pleading eyes. He pushed himself in without as much of a warning—and then watched the enlightened expression on his face, the immense rapturing of yours. For a moment, you swore you could’ve seen something other than lust in Taylor’s eyes, but he punctuated the delusions straight out of you with an unbearable thrust, and you never looked back. You gasped at the girth of his cock stretching you out, and his breath hitched at the spontaneous clenching your tight hole was bestowing him. “Fuck…”

You breathed out a whimper, and your parted mouth was immediately seized with the taste of Tom’s thick cock as he kneeled over your body and thrusted himself selfishly down your throat. Deeper, when Tom found your gags to be indecently enticing and feeding into his cock veins.

To make everything all the more dizzying, your hands were taken and wrapped around a pair of throbbing cocks; Zane and Nico’s in your left, Drew and Oliver in your right. Every contact point on your body, from Taylor’s dick pressing deep inside of you, to Tom’s succulent cock bulging your cheek, to Zane, Nico, Oliver, and Drew rubbing against their respective partner and fucking into your closed fist, burned.

“You love being full of cock, don’t you? Look at you… pleasuring the six of us at once. Come on, use your mouth. Suck Tom off, you can do it,” Taylor mouthed at your shoulder, the warmth of his breath tickling you, and then a complimentary bite to your shoulder—making your pulse run high. His grasp on the back of your raised thighs was warring as he used his core to beat his thick cock inside of you and pummel you open.

You cried around Tom’s cock, Taylor’s balls slapping your taint with every exhilarating thrust and feeding into your indulgence. Tom was noble. You already had enough on your plate; stroking two thick cocks per hand and enduring Taylor’s aggressive fucks. The intricate position you were in made it more difficult for you to suck him off, so Tom took matters into his own hands, and used your mouth as he pleased. His hands were behind his head as if they could stabilize the swimming lewd thoughts. You peeked at the utter state of bliss he was in, and your cock throbbed at the sight of his body. His chest full, his pits trimmed, his built expertly trimmed with fine and intricate muscles, especially so whenever he sunk in his stomach and flexed from the heat of your throat. You were salivating not only because the taste of Tom’s cock was so delightfully salty, but also because you were surrounded by such gorgeous men—a heaven of greek gods.

You felt reborn.

The kiss is all-consuming when Tom pulled himself out to press his lips against yours, making you sit up on Taylor’s lap. When his tongue pried your mouth open effortlessly, electricity shot down your spine, only for it to sear back up with the vicious pounding Taylor was giving you. “You taste like my dick, you like that?” Tom inhaled every ounce of breath you dispelled into his mouth. Broken sounds of whimpers and moans, a confusing yet compatible elixir that Tom drank up, and poured it back down your throat when he licked deeper into your mouth. He licked and nipped at your lips, tangled your tongue with his, and stole your breath with the eagerness of his mouth on yours that hadn’t seem to be faltering.

Heat flushed through your veins when each person took a turn to your mouth. The straddling position allowed the group to enclose themselves around you, the air thickening and weighing heavier than the swing of their cocks. Five heavy dicks surrounded your face while Taylor’s continued to swell beneath you, turning you inside and out as his hands on your hips hardened. It was an insoluble dilemma of your sexual appetite. You were starving for something to fill your mouth, but who—was the dilemma you were faced with.

“So big, fuck—“ You caught yourself drooling at the sight of their cocks dripping for you.

You behaved like a wanton, catching Oliver’s pre-cum with your tongue before sucking hard on Zane’s cock, then simultaneously stroking Drew and Nico over your shoulders ardently. The smell of Tom’s and Oliver’s salty cocks rubbing over your face made you vigilant and heightened your arousal to a crescendo. Eagerly, you replaced Zane’s cock with the two men, and moaned when the uncomfortable stretch they had provided made you stiffen around Taylor’s shaft.

“Shit, I’m going to—“ Taylor warned, his large hand splayed on your sweaty lower back while he wallowed in the confines of your walls, squeezing and clamping around his bristling cock.

Your mouth was stretched, saliva dripping from either corners of your lips, the crown of their dicks thick enough to shut your trap without so much as touching your throat. The wonderful sounds of their moans made the strain on your jaw well-worth the ache you were surely going to feel the effects from tomorrow onwards.

“Taking two cocks at once—never seen that before, Christ…” There was a vacant space in the middle of your mouth. Tilting your chin up, Oliver pushed a wad of spit into the opening—smug as he watched it fall into the void, somewhere in the back of your throat.

“He’s a horny little thing, isn’t he?” Tom followed in Oliver’s steps, spitting inside of your mouth. Two people were enough to set off a chain reaction as the rest of the group quickly joined. Nico, Drew, and Zane added their own shipment to the pooling spit haul, and they all watched in awe when you relaxed your tongue and let it drain into the back of your throat as one load.

The dehumanizing exploitation of your body turned sweat into goosebumps, and you were eager to be covered in welts by the time you were done.

Your entire body lit up at the attention the men were giving you. Taylor fucked you harder, his hands bruising on your body. Nico and Drew occupied the sloppy void that was your mouth when Tom pulled out to join Zane in kissing your flushed neck, and Oliver tended to your abandoned cock with his hand, stroking and twisting your knob. You choked on the two cocks as they attempted to fuck your mouth. It was a constant collision on your tongue and cheeks, where loads of spit pooled and dripped for a messy bustle, and you wouldn’t let them out of your mouth until Taylor delivered one strong thrust, and emptied himself inside of you. The sudden launch of his cum erupting inside made you pull away with a bated breath and moan, your body writhing as he flooded your insides.

“Fuck!” He shouted from behind you, clawing into your inner thighs while your ass was pumped with the warmth of his thick cum. Warm spurts continued to paint you from the inside as Taylor resumed his hips for a few more seconds, dumping every seed that he could push out deep inside of your violated hole, until his sack was emptied.

“Don’t let it leak out,” Drew hoisted you off of Taylor’s limp and recovering body, and pushed you back onto all fours, your head in between Taylor’s legs. “—and clean him up. Not a drop wasted, got it?”

“M-mm, yeah—fuck!” When you began licking at the underside of Taylor’s softening cock, your hole was back to being occupied again with the hung curve that was Drew’s dick. He didn’t waste a single second in making you squirm. With both hands tucked into your pelvis, Drew used your body as leverage while fucking madly into you.

“Fuck—look at you, you’re creaming all over my dick,” the sounds were delectable. Soft and creamy with every thrust Drew delivered to your ass—you felt some cum splatter onto your back from how hard he was fucking into you. As much as your asscheeks stung from the way his thighs clapped against your flesh, you were relishing every second of it with Taylor’s cock in your mouth, languidly swiveling your tongue and lapping up remnants of his seed until he was pristine.

The rough spanking marked you as Drew’s in the moment. You felt guilty for thinking it, but it was placed in good faith. HIs palm seared your stinging ass, reminding you to tend to the others. You do, your vision blurry and hazy, but you took whatever cock wanted to enter your mouth. Tom’s, Oliver’s, Nico’s, then Zane’s—they all tasted incredible and if you were allowed to, you could see yourself coming right then and there—simply from sucking cock—cocks.

You thrived in rough hands. Drew’s, Zane’s—anyone’s. Your skin throbbed when Zane and Nico slapped your cheeks with their cocks, and your asshole spasmed when Drew sealed himself within you, pushing every drop of seed until he slumped over the curve of your back, toppling you onto the ground with his weight. Even then, he pushed into your squirms, his cock buried deep into your ass, refusing to pull himself away from the sickening pleasure.

“Up and at ‘em, (M/N). Not done yet,” Oliver smiled and pulled you onto your feet, positioning himself behind you.

“Fuck—Zane…” You called out to him, bracing yourself on the arm of his couch as your muscles were still stirring awake from their sleep.

He approached you, quick in his steps, immediately tending to your non-existent wounds. His fingers through your hair, his hand over your cheeks. “What—you’re okay? What do you need? Too much? Fuck—Drew, I told you to go easy on—”

“N-no, no! I’m okay—fuck, I—I love this… so much… So much cum inside of me, god—” You were in a dreamlike state, drunk on the lights overhead you were mistaking for stars. Reality blurred even more when you felt Oliver take your wrists with one strong hold, holding them over your back, and pushed himself inside of you with one strong thrust. “Fuck!”

“Loosen up, dude. Your boy’s enjoying it—see? Taking our cocks like it’s a fucking olympic sport,” Oliver cruelly laughed, ignoring the twisting of Zane’s face as he focused on the absolute bliss on your face, holding you parallel to his body, to the sharp thrusts he catapulted upwards into your sloppy hole. “All the cocks that’s been inside of you, but you’re still so fucking tight. You going to loosen anytime soon? Hm? Too much of a slut to let that happen, right? I know you feel me in your guts, (M/N). You look fucking beautiful taking my dick so effortlessly.”

Drips of cum were leaking out of you. You could feel it trailing from your creamy hole, then down to the back of your slick tensed thighs as Oliver fucked you while standing.

Unlike Drew, Oliver didn’t need to brand you with hard spanks to your body. His hammering cock was enough, hollowing you with ease, the crown assaulting your sweet spot with ease—everything Oliver did was with ease, and it was further aided as you let yourself go limp. He fucked you bent over the arm of the couch, then when he had enough, you were back to being fucked standing. His arms looped around your pits, then interlocked behind your neck in support of his thrusts. His cock was ruthless in your ass, spearing and ruining your hole for anyone else to come after him. Your tender hole was brutally stretched around his swelling cock, your body burning up from the hold he was restraining your body with. Oliver whispered praises for your endurance, kisses you on the neck, then the shell of your ear for providing him a pleasure that would be the blueprint for the rest of his hook-ups. He straightened his knees, pushing himself balls deep into you, and in one long groan from his gut, spilled deep inside of you.

“Bet you feel so full, don’t you? Fuck…” Oliver grabbed his dick at the base and squeezed the remaining spurts inside of you before pulling out, flicking any remnants of cum over your bruised ass cheeks.

You moaned for him. The third load in your ass, and your heart was aching because you were another man closer to concluding the night.

It was open, dripping in cum, and then immediately seized when Nico pulled you onto his lap to join him on the couch. You felt like a rag doll—pulled, tossed, and thrown however one was pleased to treat you. As long as your hole was still functioning and remained at their disposal, neither of the men had any complaints about marking your body with a few scuffs.

Nico faced you to the group, your back planted against him. You whimpered when your tired limbs were hoisted once again as he hooked his arms under your knees, and then raised your legs up to position your dripping hole over his cock. Your hole had become a luscious swell of gape. The group marveled at the sight of your puffy rim, beautifully creamed by the pleasure of Taylor, Drew, and Oliver respectively.

“Holy shit, he’s fucking hollowed out…” Tom muttered, stroking himself to the sight of your insides blooming for everyone to see.

“Shit’s getting me horny again,” Taylor laughed, tugging on his flaccid cock, his body still recovering from the high he had inflicted upon himself moments prior.

Supporting your body with his arms, Nico raised your legs higher, bending them back until your knees hovered near your temples, and then locked his hand around your neck to hold you in place. Your mouth fell agape at the stretch of your muscles, and heat spread throughout your body as the group watched Nico’s cock breach your opening with a slow shove, pushing the leak of cum back inside of your guts.

Your hands trembled as you guarded your position on the couch upon Nico folding you back and feasting on your insides with his length. You felt Nico’s thighs tense, pushing up into you with all his might while your gaze locked with Zane’s. He gulped at the unholy sight of your hole being raptured—hungrily being excavated with Nico’s throbbing tool. Nico’s cock was covered in the recent load stuffed inside of you, an increasing sheen the more he fell into a rhythm, and rutted into you aimlessly, chasing after his fill. He slid in and out of you easily, the ample amount of cum replacing any need for to renew his dick with lube.

You and Nico panted in union. His heavy cock stretched you open, and Nico apologized with a blistering kiss to your shoulder, as if fucking you couldn’t be the apology itself. When you alternated your gaze to Tom, he looked almost predatory. Eager like he had always been, but something internal was running thin—Tom’s patience. He scooted closer, watching you take Nico’s fat cock with scalding envy. While your hole took the screwing, Tom caressed the rim of your asshole. You were loose enough for what he wanted to do to you. Carefully, Tom pressed one finger against the underside of Nico’’s cock, and you choked back on your moans, throwing your head back at the sudden tightness as Tom slipped a finger inside of you. Nico continued rocking, occasionally slowing to accommodate Tom as he worked three fingers inside of you.

“T-Tom, that’s too much—“

“But it feels good though, right? You seem to like it when it’s too much.”

Spitting on his own cock, Tom massaged the layer of lube in before lining himself with your occupied opening. Your eyes widened in stupefied anticipation—in arousing fear—yet you brought your hands over to spread your ass cheeks for him, for Tom to force his cock into your body alongside Nico’s length, and you cried with the double breach.

“M-mmfgh! Fuck…!” You cried out, your eyes rolled in the sockets, leaving only the whites of your eyeballs visible as Nico and Peter began moving in opposite rhythms.

“Fuck, Tom—your dick feels so good against mine, holy crap—“

With an animalistic groan, you pushed your ass out, greedily taking the two cocks into your gut despite the uncomfortable stretch signaling for you to stop and rethink about this decision unfolding before your very eyes.

Not long after, Nico and Tom pumped their hips in harmony, filling you over and over. Cum would trickle out from Tom joining, but he was quick to pull himself back out and scoop it back inside of you with a deep plunge that made the three of you reduce yourselves to nothing but guttural moans. You felt Nico’s body tense beneath you, coercing your own to tighten at the core.

Holding your thighs, Tom pushed into you to the hilt while Nico followed suit. They shuddered with ecstasy, growling like wild beasts from the natural impulse to clamp your sloppy hole around them. Their cocks were rubbing against one another, harder, faster, as they fucked themselves inside of you, opening you more than you had thought was imaginable at a relentless pace. You mewled, collapsing back onto Nico’s hold as your body rocked from the powerful thrusts as if you were caught in a tide.

You felt your own cock throb at this, balls tightening and stroking your cock to the sound of Nico in your ear and Tom at your lips, panting into your mouth in between messy kisses. You were wrecked, completely and utterly ruined as they rocked their shafts into you in opposite strides now. One would hit your sweet spot while the other pulled himself out to renew that fresh stretch of your rim again as they pushed with conviction. Between labored breaths, you searched for Zane over Tom’s shoulder, your heart beating faster and faster as he seemed to be mesmerized by the display of your sheer dedication in following in on your promise to make him feel like the luckiest man on Earth.

Faster. Harder. Deeper. In a matter of seconds, you all came together. Your body spasmed and writhed between their own twitching, your hole clenched around the erupting cocks, your own dick throbbed and spurted out creamy ropes onto your body. Their hips were unrelenting, frothing the thick cum sent deep into your crevices with writhing and swollen flesh, and you slumped, Nico’s released hold relieving your muscles as your body shifted back and forth from the two cocks milking themselves until their shafts softened.

At the thought of Zane—the last man that you would be taking—your position came to you unbidden. Scrolled over the arm of the couch again, you felt comforted by the ample leg room, stretching your muscles for the final act while Zane prepared himself behind you, laving his cock over your crevice, submerging himself in the wetness that your raw hole was dripping out. You were depraved of touch—Zane’s touch—you barely spent a minute with him in between stationing yourself with every men. All except him.

“They did a real number on you…” Zane muttered in your ear. His left hand caressed the tense muscles in your back before joining his right in steering you by the shoulders, his grip clutching a bruising shade into your skin. “Suddenly I don’t matter anymore, hm? You only call me over to show yourself off—showing off that dripping hole of yours.” Unsolicited moans drew out of you with the push of Zane’s hips, fitting his cum-covered cock over your crevice, as a way to soothe the swelling of your puffy rim, but also to ridicule your newfound addiction. “Showing off what was mine—that has now been ruined by five other fucking men. Fuck, I saw the way you were looking at them. All of them. You reek of them too, fucking slut.” He deliberately pressed his swollen cockhead to your ring of muscle, swirling and tracing the circumference, only to move back a centimeter and slide himself right by, pressing his shaft against you instead.

You whimpered, circling your hips back for more of Zane, to apologize to him with the warmth of your hole, to make up for your lack of attention towards him by letting him milk himself inside of you—like you’d done for the others. “I-I’m sorry—Zane, please—“ Your breath hitched when Zane wrapped a hand around your throat and pulled you against his imposing chest, arching you forward.

“So, you want my cock now? Five dicks weren’t enough? You need mine to feel satisfied? Face the group. Tell them how much you love my cock,” squeezing your cheek, he forced your head to turn to his friends. They stirred in their seats, their hands back to fisting their erections again.

“I-I love Zane’s cock… I love the way he fucks me—no—the way he makes love to my hole, the way he fills me up to the brim with his thick cum, the way he milks himself and breeds me. I love that he takes his time with me, s-shows me that I’m more than just a doll for fucking,” With the way you were looking; panting from the amount of dick you had taken for the past hour, sweating from the thickened sex in the air, dripping from the loads that marked their battle claim on you; you evoked a fever that spread from one end of the circle to the other. One by one, they gathered closer, inhaling the scent of your arousal—their sex, their seed deeply embedded into your body like you had no other choice but to use them as cologne.

“I-I love that he fucks me—like he loves me,” you peeked over your shoulder to look back at him with groveling gratitude. Was it a mistake to admit this for the first time? In this moment? Where it was confessed to the public, rather than solely to Zane? Your heart raced, and Zane was well-aware as he pacified you with doting affection on your chest, roaming his free hand over the plane, tweezing your perky nipples while his other hand at your throat maintained. You brought a hand up to hold his nape, to hold you close to you because—you’d been separated from your boyfriend for far too long. You were malfunctioning, throwing yourself to every man who wanted to please you and that swollen hole of yours, and you needed Zane to ground you back to him.

And ground you he did—Zane humbled you in the process, evidently satisfied with your short monologue as the kiss he honored you with was deep and enthralling. He poured all sorts of emotion in your mouth, explored it with his tongue in midst of tucking his feelings inside of you, muttered incoherent words of affection while he was drunk on your breath feeding his lungs with life.

“I love you,” he tucked the confession into the shell of your ear and punctuated his returning feelings with one sharp charge of his thrust. The previous loads within you permeated—saturated deep into your flesh—as Zane congested your guts with his large cock, making you wail on his slow, but bellicose hips. “I. Love. You.” Zane repeated in your ear, following up with every one of his thrusts. His cock was methodical inside of you. Screwing what was loose, tightening your walls like his cock was a hammer to secure you around his girth. You felt yourself tip-toeing the floor, the thrusts catapulting your body from Zane’s strength, but there was not a second where you didn’t feel safe. His hold on you—driving into you with his cock, restricting your limbs while he showered you with the most heart-fluttering compliments—he was your sanctuary, the holiest of all places, and you felt revived.

He had his hand over your throat, vaulting your moans with a clamp, pushing you back onto your heel, but as soon as he came up again and delivered those rapturing thrusts, you returned to your natural stance on your tip-toes. You struggled to make sounds—loud mewls and whimpers that proved how absolutely fulfilling you felt in the moment. Your throat was sore and dry, and your body was exhausted and could only endure Zane for so long. You fell limp in Zane’s arms, tensing at the right moments where he penetrated your prostate. It was the unsolicited answer to your body malfunctioning.

The roll of your eyes, the spasming of your asshole, the gape of your mouth as silent moans thickened the air—you and Zane bonded as one. Your ass pushed back to meet his thrusts, creating an electrifying wave of thunderous sounds of sweaty and sticky skin clapping against each other. You felt your body ripple from Zane’s power, from his devotion to forge your hole to the shape of his cock, from his desperate need to tell you that he loved you with more than just his words. You felt every inch of him through your gut. Bent over the arm of the couch, your sweat dripped onto the leather while he fucked you against it, your skin chafing abrasively. Your knees constantly collided with the furniture, but you were too far gone, completely lost in a cycle of Zane’s affection that you didn’t realize your chin was being held up by Drew, jerking his cock over your face.

You blinked rapidly to ward off exhaustion and before you could comprehend the line forming behind him, your face was propelled with thick flying ropes of cum. Drew spilled all over you with a moan, aiming wherever, but mostly at the center. He shot at you hard, feeling himself splatter from your lips, then to your hair.

It happened rapidly, Zane’s hips seemingly quickening to sync with the group’s thunder-paced wrists. Taylor was the next person in line, pumping his hairy cock to the sight of Drew’s cum dripping off of your nose from the vigor force Zane was pummeling you from behind. With a deep grunt and a push of his hips, Taylor emptied his heavy sack, adding onto the layers of cum on your face.

You’ve seen it in the videos you’d watched. It was no good letting their hard-work go to waste. You tipped your head back and Tom helped, resting his hand at your hairline while he stroked his cock over the stains on your face. Again, he was another man to blow another thick load onto your face. Before he left, he made sure to wipe himself clean on your neck, embellishing you with his gratitude.

Then came Nico; the massive amount of loads on your face pooled as you patiently waited for his second high. Your vision was screwed, trying to peer through the cum dripping down your eyelids, but eventually you had to settle on shutting your eyes and anticipate blindly. Within seconds, you heard Nico grunt and moan, followed by another spillage onto your face. He aimed directly at your mouth, where you missed the first unforeseen shot, but quickly adapted and opened your mouth to hold his seed. The salty taste on your tongue bloomed, and whoever’s cum was trailing from the bridge of your nose, past your philtrum and into your open mouth was even saltier, making you writhe as the shudders were uncontrollable when you swallowed.

Finally, Oliver stepped up and amused himself to the heavy decoration weighing down on your face. Stroking his cock, he also played with the cum, dipping the crown of his cock into someone else’s load, scooping a white thread was dangling off your jaw and into your mouth, wiping your eyelids clean with his glans—because he wanted you to see this. He wanted you to watch him come on you with immense pride, to watch him pump the study veins in his thick cock as he indulged at the sight of your pretty eyes surrounded by the four prior men’s fulfillment. With gritted teeth, Oliver groaned from the depth of his gut and released his seed all over you. The group saved the largest load for last. Your eyes immediately clenched following one thick splatter to your lid, then the other, blurring your vision and stinging your eyes once again as Oliver targeted painting you from all corners of the face, including the ones he had helped wipe clean. He squeeze the last remaining seed, and flicked it onto your lips, groaning from the sudden sensitivity in his cock.

“Shit… you look so—” Zane groaned from behind you. He couldn’t stop marveling at it; the unholy sight of your face snowed under an ample amount of cum. The scent of the group’s sex drifted in the almost still air, and Zane ached inside of you.

You can feel the warmth emanating from his study body when he pushed his weight onto you, fucking into you harder and igniting the burn in your thighs. Peeking from one eye, your head was turned to where Zane claimed his rightful place on your lips again. His eyes flashed with hunger at the taste of someone’s cum dripping into your mouth, so he kissed harder, molding your hole to his cock and hammering into you at a breath-taking pace. There were multiple passageways the various pool of mixed semen were taking on your face. A web dangled off your cheek, a trail dripped in pursuit of the kiss, a wet clump was smushed between Zane’s nose and yours; you and Zane were a sloppy mess, and you both were baptized by the scent, the taste, and the feeling of it all.

You were gorgeous, your delicate state only adding to your appeal. One more look at you, and Zane grunted low. He reached between your thighs with his hands, so hard it hurt, and he was wild and strong, fucking into you madly while knocking your breath into a state of stasis. His hips smacked against your ass, faster and faster, and your body was up in flames. Every thrust felt punishing, like he wanted to condemn you for seducing him—for loving him—but if this was punishment, you needed to find more ways to anger him, to love him.

You whimpered into his growls, his firm hands pulled you impossibly closer by the thighs, clutching and fucking you back onto his cock, as he raptured himself into you. He stroked the inside of your mouth, his tongue feeling fat and warm, savoring the taste of salty seed on your tongue, and he groaned into you once more. He grunted and growled like an animal, powered by the group watching in awe, the ravenous noise reverberating through your guts, and you feel the eruption of cum dousing your flesh, deep in your guts, his large cock pulsating in you.

The pleasure hit you like a lightning bolt. Your thighs shook, your hole spasmed, and you rut against his swelling cock, pleasured and soothed by the warmth and thickness of his steaming cum. His release had him quivering against your back, his face tucked inside the crook of your neck while he rocked slowly, breeding you.

“So good, you’re so fucking good…” Zane muttered weakly, panting and mouthing against the back of your ear.

“So full—“ you groaned at the heavy weight of dick in you, then hissed when Zane bucked his hips once more, kissing the crown of his cock to the mouth of your prostate, as if it was a reminder for you that he owned you.

Obscene noises came from his cock plunging your ass with cum—more cum, as you struggled to contain another load, and felt it drip down to your ankles. You sighed, taking it all in—taking Zane in—and slumped over the arm of the couch, heaving a euphoric sigh of relief, relishing in the high-yielding pleasure that was Zane’s cock, dazzling by the lights above you—the stars.

“You guys okay?” laughing at the group’s sudden exhaustion, Zane refused to pull away from you. His hands curled around your hips, then carefully maneuvered himself to lie on the couch with him, still buried to the root of your hole.

“Better than a smoke,” Drew yawned, rubbing his large hand over your ankle by virtue of exceeding his expectations. Nico petted at your head, the spent look on your face charming when you turned towards him and weakly smiled. Tom and Oliver were quiet, still recovering from their orgasm. When you caught their gaze, they held up their thumb once before plummeting back onto the floor.

“Fuck, man—you were great,” Taylor slumped against the foot of the couch, limbs sprawled from the exhaust of muscles, but he joined in on the caressing of your leg, squeezing at your calf, nearly rendering you to sleep.

One by one, the group fell to a silence, a gentle slumber despite the hardwood floors forewarning a few of them of a back ache the next morning. You watched peacefully, the caressing of your body slowly coming to a halt, and then looked back at Zane, collapsed onto your back, drifting into sleep with the gentle snores near your ear.

Hopefully by morning—Zane would tell you that you fulfilled on your promise.

He was the luckiest man alive.

nouearth. please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works. and if you like this story, please reblog and leave a like!

#zane phillips x male reader #tom holland x male reader #drew starkey x male reader #oliver stark x male reader #nico greetham x male reader #taylor zakhar perez x male reader #zane phillips x reader #tom holland x reader #drew starkey x reader #nico greetham x reader #oliver stark x reader #taylor zakhar perez x reader #nou.fics

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