Tag: body worship

9th Batch Ko-Fi Fics: 6th Fill

AllMight/EraserMic – SmallMigt; Impotence; Body Worship; Anal Orgasms – Hizashi and Aizawa take care of their man.

Toshinori is breathing quickly, then has to cough. He grimaces at the taste of blood and the spatter of it against the inside of his arm. Aizawa is there a moment later, face set in his neutral, almost tired expression.

He wipes at Toshinori’s mouth and chin with a damp towel, face going grim for a moment as Toshinori tries to turn his head away in embarrassment, then relaxing again when he becomes still once more with a sigh.

Next, his arm is being cleaned. Aizawa’s actions are at odds with his face: they are gentle and doting; very much attentive despite the heavy lidded stare of his eyes.

Hizashi is close by, his fingers still around Toshinori’s cock, though his tight slick grip has eased off into a loose, gentle hold. Toshinori is not hard, embarrassingly so, but it has still been exciting enough to send him into a coughing fit.

Hizashi stares at him intently over the rim of his triangular glasses. His shockingly bright eyes are assessing and heated. It still throws Toshinori for a loop to know that they don’t mind the large ugly scar, or his emaciated body; his feeble coughing, or, yes, the blood.

They are good boyfriends. The best, in fact. Aizawa slides in on his other side, murmuring something indistinct. He nudges and prods and bullies until Toshinori is on his side – the one without the scar – sandwiched securely between their naked bodies. Aizawa runs hotter than Hizashi. He is a brand at Toshinori’s back as he wordlessly urges one of his long, boney legs up, pointy knee sliding across Hizashi’s hip until the other holds it secure where it is.

He does not have enough power to fight against them and that makes it even more exciting.

Hizashi’s hand is still around his limp cock and when he squeezes around it, twisting his wrist as if he wants to jack him off, Toshinori becomes suddenly aware of his body’s failings again. He takes a deep breath, then concentrates so he doesn’t start coughing again.

He closes his eyes tightly and presses his forehead against Hizashi’s shoulder.

“Cute~~” Hizashi hums. Toshinori can feel himself flushing a dull, furious red.

And behind him, Aizawa slips one long, slender finger into him.

.o.

There’s no time feeling embarrassed anymore. There is barely enough time for him to breathe between the deep, almost aching waves of orgasm that have his whole body convulsing, centered around the shivering clenches of his anal walls.

Aizawa has hooked his chin across Toshinori’s shoulder. They’re both so close; right up in his personal space, breathing his air, watching every minute ecstatic twitch of his face as he comes for them, cock still limp and useless but his orgasms almost more intense for it.

It is… embarrassing how deeply they watch him come for them, but their warm hands are petting at his sides and they are murmuring encouragement, and that makes it easier.

Even Aizawa is positively cooing at him as he idly rounds the swell of his prostate, letting him get down from his recent orgasm but not letting the waves abate fully before he starts working him over once more.

Toshinori is sure he can’t come any more. He’s sure his heart will explode if he has just one more orgasm, but Hizashi is kissing at his mouth, his little fancy mustache tickling Toshinori’s upper lip.

“Gorgeous,” Hizashi croons, his hand travelling down again, slipping between Toshinori’s thighs. He’s not circling his long fingers around his cock this time, though; rather, he is cradling Toshinori’s sac, thumb pressing gentle but firm between the testicles, separating them in the delicate, warm skin.

Toshinori squirms. He can’t help the little “hah.. hah… hah”s he’s making. His belly is trembling again, muscles twitching and clenching down occasionally as Aizawa’s finger makes him get closer and closer towards another deep orgasm.

Hizashi kisses him when he comes, deep and intrusive, his tongue diving deep and dragging along his teeth while Toshinori can’t do anything about it except try to keep his mouth open while his body convulses and his insides turn into a hot liquid mess by the feel of it.

When Hizashi finally lets off of him, there is drool slipping from the corner of his mouth and he has trouble focusing properly.

He feels weird; almost… stuffy as if he is having a cold; and it takes his overworked brain a minute or two to figure out that Aizawa has activated his Quirk to keep Toshinori from accidentally becoming AllMight.

Aizawa hums, the lightheadedness vanishing as he snuggles closer, his finger slowly retreating to leave Toshinori’s hole clenching down on nothing, wet with lube and swollen from all the attention. He sidles closer still, nudging his naked cock against the back of his thigh, his warm breath puffing against Toshinori’s neck.

“Think you can take us?” he murmurs, voice so deep Toshinori can feel it in his bones. The thought of them fucking him now; him limp and helpless and still twitching from past orgasms is… it’s good, and scary.

How they can manipulate his emaciated body with ease; just put him however way they like it to slide their cocks deep and force however many more orgasms out of him…

“Yes” he croaks finally, all nervous and excited, reaching back to grab at Aizawa’s hip. “Please…”

youre taking suggestions? would you perhaps be interested in some mcreyes body worship, with mccree worshipping the shit out of gabriel’s body in any way imaginable. with maybe some ass eating…. i love gabe’s body and like to imagine jesse would too

robotfvckers:

It’s been decades since the last time he’s seen Gabriel’s naked body. Peeling back creased leather and reinforced armor, he watches that dark, ashen skin slip into view, tendrils of smoke separating from his flesh like vapor on dry ice and nearly as chilling. He runs his metal hand over the swell of Gabriel’s ass, smile tugging his lips when he realizes.

“You’re still such a looker, boss.” Jesse says, voice low, awe hanging on each syllable as he lifts both organic and metal hands to spread his cheeks. His eyes follow his curves until he sees it, Gabe still soft and pink, though oddly hairless. Jesse doesn’t mind.

His old commander grunts, jerks into the moth-eaten cot they’ve settled on in an abandoned house. There’s a bark of far off laughter, the smell of exhaust and orange halogen glow leaking in through the broken window.

“Gotten introspective in your old age, have ya?” Jesse drawls, pressing his naked hand against Gabe’s hole, brushes his thumb against the swelling curve of his balls, every part of him cool to the touch, smooth like a statue. He remembers the warm pulse of his commander beneath him in another life, quaking and needy.

Well, at least he could make one of those things a reality now.

“Shut up.”

The duality of Gabe’s voice raised the hackles on his neck the first time he heard it, but now it’s just another part of him, new, accepted. If he really tries, he feels a twinge of loss for who Gabe used to be: proud, hot-blooded, intimidating as hell and twice as much in standard uniform. It isn’t even like he’s lost most of those features; it’s almost like Gabe has been enhanced again, a terror, a true otherworldly being physically embodying that past strength. And if Jesse thought about it, late at night, staring at the ceiling while he couldn’t sleep, that he buried this man over a decade ago, and that if any Gabe, monster or human, returned to him, he would never let go.

Jesse’s finger catches against Gabe’s rim, applying pressure but not pressing inside, gauging Gabe’s reactions. The man’s half clothed still, coat tossed to the floor, head tucked into the crook of his arm. The smoke billows around his face, scarred surface a ghostly outline. He doesn’t like Jesse to see his face, but he doesn’t want Jesse to know he doesn’t want him to see. Jesse chuckles, and Gabe’s whole body tenses at once.

“No need for that. Don’t be so nervous.” Jesse leans forward, drags his tongue against Gabe’s hole. There’s nothing to taste besides the faint trace of ash and salt on the back of his tongue.

The wraith twitches, gasps like he wasn’t expecting it. His metal hand tugs one cheek back, opens up space for him to work, flicking his tongue against his finger and finally nudges inside. He wants to tease Gabe, but he knows that’s not what he needs. He curls, feeling around, and it’s like they’ve done this yesterday with how easy he has Gabe gasping, low and hot.

“Still so sensitive. I missed this. Missed you.” Jesse murmurs when he takes a breath. Gabe moans, bites it back, growls.

“Stop. Talking.”

Jesse does, works his mouth against Gabe until his body goes warm and pliant beneath his tongue while Gabe strains and swears, fucks his hips back against his mouth when he draws close, spills warm and thick against the sheets when Jesse curls his finger, like clockwork, like old times.

“Beautiful.” Jesse murmurs, finally catching the crimson-flecked gaze of the one he loves staring back at him.

the result of the live-write :3 virgin!Gabriel acquainting himself with his prostate :’3

Gabriel is putting such an effort into keeping quiet – finger moving slow and silky inside his desperately clutching hole, trying not to make it do these embarrassing squelching sounds he’s heard whenever he was watching porn – he can actually hear the rasp of Morrison’s facial hair when he drags one broad hand across his mouth.

“Dang. I mean – I can help you out?” Morrison’s voice cracks on the last word. He sounds stupidly boyish and Gabriel can just imagine his painfully blue eyes fixed on his ass, watching him do… it.

Gabriel clenches his eyes shut and turns his head to press his face into the crook of his arm. His mouth is open to drag in enough air and still he feels like there’s just not enough oxygen in the room.

“Sh-shut up, Morrison,” he rasps. It’s a weak comeback. Under normal circumstances he would have come up with something – anything – better than a weak pre-school retaliation, but his rim is clenching down on a single finger of his own and it feels weird and to make matters worse, goddamn Jack Goldenboy Morrison is sitting behind him on the bed and watching with rapt attention.

He can almost feel his gaze like a physical thing.

It is embarrassing.

Whenever he glances down his belly, past the heavy weight of his half-hard, confused dick, he can see him sitting there, watching, boxer briefs tenting and wet where the tip of his cock is trying so very hard to escape.

“I mean… it’s just an offer,” Jack says. He sounds strangled. Pained.

His face looks the part, too, when Gabriel turns his head enough to glance around himself. His lips are pressed into a severe line, thick eyebrows drawn in concentration. He almost looks like he does in their briefings – only that his cheeks were a deep red, hair tousled from wrestling off his shirt: the perfect, endearing farm boy.

As Gabriel watches, Jack finally reaches down and slips those big fingers underneath the elastic band of his shorts. A quick adjustment later has the tip of his cock out, only the very tip peeking out of the foreskin pink and wet, and probably getting the dark blond hair beneath his belly button tacky.

Gabriel quickly turns his head back around, wiping his wet mouth deliriously against his forearm as he starts up moving his finger again – slipping it into himself and feeling the silky walls of his insides.

It’s not uncomfortable – certainly not painful – yet he starts to wonder what the big deal is about.

“I could do that for you,” Jack offers again, voice shot. The bed dips as he moves a little closer. Before Gabriel can muster up anything to say, he feels a large hand closing around his wrist. Shocked, he lets him direct him: changing up his angle and telling him to crook his finger until his own knuckle is rubbing rudely into his silky, hot insides. Gabriel chokes on his spit when a little shiver of feeling darts up his spine, making him dip it down instinctively. Jack groans.

“That’s it. Just like that. Fuck you got the best ass ever. Goddamn fat, gorgeous ass. I would’ve been honestly surprised if you weren’t sensitive as fuck down here.”

Gabriel’s head spins. His ears feel stupidly hot – as hot as the little muscle suckling eagerly at his finger. He clenches down and sweat springs up along his hairline when he hears Jack’s fierce mumble: “Yeah. So sensitive. Look at that sweet cunt you have. Gripping like a goddamn vice -”

“L-language,” he croaks, toes curling in sympathy with his finger as he tries to find that little spot again – that perfect little place that he had only graced with a glancing touch.

He wonders dimly if anybody knew how dirty Morrison’s mouth actually was. Perfect little farmboy swearing like a sailor the second he got excited; his single minded intent shutting off any filters.

Morrison doesn’t react to the admonishment – rather he lets go of Gabriel’s wrist in order to put both hands on his ass cheeks, gripping the generous muscle hard enough that it makes Gabriel grunt and rock forward, shoulders hunching up towards his ears when Jack’s palms slide down towards the backs of his thighs.

“I love your body,” he sighs. It sounds like a prayer and Gabriel doesn’t know what to do when Morrison’s hands slide reverently from his thighs back to his ass, gripping the swell of his hips and pushing up the curve into his waist just to feel the difference. He’s kneeling with a finger up his ass, trying – and failing – to find that sweet spot, his balls warm and heavy against the pulse point in his wrist, and Morrison is starting to worship him.

Gabriel jerks when he feels something bristly against the swell of his ass and it takes him looking hectically back to realize it’s Morrison’s cheek which he rubs against him like a cat.

“Could spend hours admiring your ass, Reyes. And your thighs. Holy shit. I think brass would’ve gotten rid of those ridiculous tiny gym shorts if you hadn’t enrolled. Heads turning just because they ride up your big, juicy thighs until nothing is left to the imagination…”

Gabriel closes his eyes. He has bitten into the flesh of his arm without realizing, the pain dull and throbbing and welcome.

When Morrison leans over and starts peppering kisses against the pouty rim of his hole, tongue darting out to drag wet and squirming around his stagnant finger, he doesn’t protest the hand anymore that closes around his wrist and gently tugs it away.

“You did so well,” Jack murmurs, “but I’ll show you how it’s done, hm? Pretty little virgin was squirming so nicely for me, but -”

He interrupts himself before Gabriel can turn around and smack him in the head for his stupid babbling, toes curling and belly feeling tight from how Jack was talking about him. To him. He couldn’t even tell whether he liked it or not. Christ, he is a mess.

Jack is, despite his crooning, gentle words, anything but. Gabriel cries out, back arching down and ass involuntarily lifting into the abuse when two broad fingers push in, barely slicked with spit and rubbing greedily at his hot insides.

His hands are fisted into the sheets, shoulders drawn up high and hips indecisive after that first initial shock from the push – jittery as they hunch down and lift up in aborted motions, already faux fucking himself on Morrison’s broad, intrusive digits.

“There you go. Holy shit you take it like a champ, don’t you? You’re so silky and wet inside. Used so much lube… Your hole is glistening like a pretty mouth with lip gloss.”

Morrison’s hand is rubbing along his spine; he can feel it slide through the tacky sweat gathered there. The tenderness makes his lewd words even more jarring. Gabriel’s eyes are glazing over, his jaw hurting with the fierce clench.

“Shut. Up. God,” he grinds out, embarrassed from the mental images and trying not to show it.

Morrison slips in deeper; slow yet inexorable, forcing Gabriel’s body to spread and accommodate for him. He takes what he wants like a rude little boy and Gabriel realizes he is – literally – drooling for the treatment, mouth open and tongue almost hanging out. His balls feel ripe and swollen – just a little too tender; too ready to unload.

“Yeah. That’s it. You’re doing so well. Fucking yourself on my fingers. You love it, don’t you? Just need someone else to play with your pretty snatch. Show you how good it can feel. How to do it.”

There’s a fog in Gabriel’s head, and it makes it hard to understand. He’s a highly intelligent man and yet it surprises him – downright baffles – him to realize that yes he is fucking himself back, body rocking, knees sliding farther apart on the slick sheets. He’s grinding like an animal, on all fours, grunting with each filling he gets, and he wants to kick at Morrison and make him sorry for… for… whatever, but he can’t make himself move other than those little, fluid thrusts that are gaining momentum the more confidence he has.

“Yeah you love it,” Morrison mutters, answering his own question. He is still petting Gabriel’s spine; up and down motions that are a little frantic by now, and Gabriel can no longer tell whether it is still only his sweat or Morrison’s fingers have become clammy as well.

He lets his head hang down and stares between his thighs, seeing Morrison’s dick, trapped by the elastic of his underwear, nearly dipping inside his shallow belly button.

Gabriel’s mouth floods with saliva as he thinks about suckling at the tip; slipping his tongue into the velvety folds of foreskin and lick up the gathered pre-cum. He’s never felt it this strongly before; only idle passing thoughts about whether he would like sucking dick. Morrison’s dick. Whether he would like swallowing.

He’s never felt it this strongly; this overwhelming need to rub a thick cock against his tongue, feeling the drag and weight of it push into the back of his throat until he was drooling too much and couldn’t swallow it down anymore.

He’s never-

“How about we try this?”

Gabriel’s body jerks before he has the chance of understanding Jack’s low voice, a gurgling shout ripped from him – more of surprise than anything – when Morrison suddenly moves and crooks his fingers, pressing them perfectly and with delicious precision at that spot Gabriel had been searching for.

Tears spring up in his eyes, a drawn out sound – something like “hhhaaahhhhh” – wheezing out of him. There’s a cramp in his right calf and he wants to pay attention to it but Morrison his humming and pushing again, fingertips dragging in little circular motions against the spongy wall of Gabriel’s insides, massaging into the gland he has found.

“That’s it,” Morrison murmurs, fingers spreading, putting off the pressure in favor of just teasing him with glimpses of it – Gabriel’s body suddenly feeling overripe. Juicy. Ready. He feels almost delirious with want, and his cock has fattened out almost without him noticing. “I knew you’d be like that. So sensitive. Couldn’t be anything less with that gorgeous ass. God Gabriel, the things I wanna do to you.”

Gabriel angles his shoulders down, face mashing into the rumpled sheets of the bed, low shivers sliding through his body in waves that start at the very tip of his head and end in his toes.

He doesn’t know whether he is afraid or giddy.

I really just want to see Reaper, or someone who Reaper’s with, having a major ball fixation. Not mean or violent, but lots of suckling, fondling, gentle tugging, licking, etc. Making Reaper cum again and again just by playing with his big heavy sack all night long.

*screams forever and ever*

this is the shit I’m taaaalking about. JUST WORSHIP THAT BOI’S BIG BALLS

his partner just loving to mash his face against them and inhale when Gabriel is coming from a workout/skirmish. Them laying down and begging for him to sit down on their face, smear his sack all over them. 

Them nuzzling and kissing at his balls when Reaper is sleepy and dozing away. He wakes up with them still between his legs, their chin slotted into the humid space behind his sack, mouthing slow and soft against the loose skin.

THEM LOVINGLY, CAREFULLY SHAVING HIS BALLS BECAUSE HE PREFERS HIS PUBES TO BE CURLING JUST AROUND THE BASE OF HIS DICK.

rough reverence (my favorite kind of worship)

boneyarts:

this is for @cyberratting – b/c cyber is a gift to the OW fandom and writes amazing hot fic, and deserves to be repaid in kind

__

They say a man’s home is his castle—and while this Overwatch
outpost base wasn’t technically where he lived, Jack Morrison felt
like a king all the same.

Keep reading

oh. my. god. I fucking love this. hoooooooollllyyyy pooooop *cries bloody tears of joy*