8th Batch Ko-Fi Fics: 3rd Fill

human!Winston/Soldier76 – nasty old man 76; coercion; forced feminization; abuse; non-consensual voyeurism; non-con/rape – Soldier has a not-so-willing pet in the kind scientist.

This one was tricky for me for some reason :0 Soldier really is a bastard in this one. I like to think that something good happens for Winston at the end

“You like sending me on the longest missions. If I didn’t know better I would think you don’t like me.”

Soldier watches with amusement as Winston flushes a dull red, nervous sweat springing up on his brow. His dark, docile eyes are not looking into the camera. Either because he hasn’t figured out yet where Jack is getting his video feed from, or because he can’t look at him while he’s lying.

“N-No.. ah.. that’s not… it,” Winston mumbles. Nervous. He is a brilliant scientist but in front of his *master* he is reduced to a bumbling idiot. Soldier smirks and leans back against the cracking wall. He’s found refuge for the night in a rundown abandoned apartment complex and figured that he could use a bit of a distraction during the dreary mission.

Cue, him checking in on his pet via the secret camera he installed in his laboratory.

“Show me your tits.”

Winston looks taken aback. He haphazardly shoves his glasses up his nose, shocked silent for a second.

“I… ah… b-but-”

“Don’t talk back to me, babe.” Jack leans forward even though Winston can’t see him, fixing him with a hard glare. “You don’t want to make it worse for you, do you? I won’t be gone forever…”

Winston falls silent, biting his lip. He ducks his head, his shoulders shaking, hands probably curled into big fists at his sides.

“Show me your tits. Nobody’ll have to know what kind of slut you are if you obey like a good girl.”

For a second, the scientist looks close to crying, face a humiliated hot red, fingers shaking fiercely as he lifts his hands and starts unbuttoning the lab coat he’s wearing. It is clear he has not mentally prepared himself for the possibility of Jack harassing him even when he is out on a mission, and he’s softer and more vulnerable than usual.

Jack watches hungrily, cock in hand, slowly stroking. Greedy for Winston’s young, supple body. For how meaty and hairy he is, and too good natured to put up much of a fight.

Jack is sure he’s been the scientist’s first from how bumbling and unskilled he’s been, sucking cock messy and without any finesse… so damn ashamed of his hairy, thick body; and it has been easy to get him to submit. To make him feel like he is lewd and nasty… that his team would ridicule him if Jack told them about that shaky little ‘daddy’ he’s whimpered out as Jack roughly dicked him to his first orgasm on the cock of a real man.

He almost feels bad about it. Almost.

Beneath his lab coat, Winston is wearing a thick pullover that looks rustic. Handmade. A sweet boy wearing what his grandma gifted him. The cock in Jack’s hand surges and he reaches into his pants with his other hand, cupping his testicles.

On the video feed, Winston hesitates, throwing nervous little glances around himself. Still searching for the camera.

He is slow, dragging his heels, and Jack quietly files that away for the next time he has him under his heel proper. Apparently the little slut still has to learn a lot.

Finally he moves, though, lifting his shirt, rucking it up beneath his armpits and showing off his hairy, soft chest and the hirsute swell of his guts. Jack’s nostrils flare and his thumb presses beneath his swollen glans, dragging against his frenulum until his balls jerk in his grip.

“Yeah that’s it. Good girl. Show ‘em to me.”

Winston has gone very quiet, just silently obeying. Letting Jack boss him around while he looks close to crying, his big hands framing his soft chest and pressing the pecs together. Showing them off nervously to what is for him an empty room.

“Yeah. Good. Very good. Is your door open? What would you do if someone just walked in to you fondling your slutty tits?”

Winston ducks his head, his lips trembling. Jack hums, hips flexing up into his grip. He wishes he had Winston right here just so he could have the delicious promise of his tight, fat ass cushioning his dick before the end of the night.

“Does it get you hot? Gets your little clit excited? Of course it does. I bet you’re getting your panties dripping because you’re such a nasty slut. You want to show your body off, don’t you? For *daddy*?”

Winston sobs, then. Shakes his head, but squeezes his big hands around his hairy tits, blunt fingers pinching his dark, pretty nipples without Jack having to urge him to do so. He might be denying it, but he’s a natural, deep down. A cheap two-dollar-whore that’s just been waiting for the right trigger. Someone bored enough to give him a pity fuck and have him realize how greedy he is for dick.

“Do you want to touch your little clitty, baby girl? Want to touch it while daddy talks you through it?”

Winston is shaking his head, then stops, just quietly whining.

“You have to ask for it. I want to hear you say it.”

“Please don’t,” Winston croakes. He looks up nervously, eyes flicking somewhere off screen. Maybe he’s hearing footsteps on the usually deserted corridors outside.

Jack feels a fierce surge of lust, his cock getting wet at the tip, pulsing against his palm.

“Don’t you dare cover up now. Stay right where you are, slut. You are *mine* and I will show you off whenever I like.”

Winston looks like he wants to crawl under the table, the color draining from his face.

Jack can hear the faint thump of steps as well, now.

8th Batch Ko-Fi Fics: 1st Fill

Blackwatch!Reinhardt/Angelo – rape; coercion; deep throating; breath play – Reinhardt has a new toy and he knows just how to play it.

“You are a gorgeous one, aren’t you?” Reinhardt extends his hand towards the prisoner but before his fingers can scratch at his chin right beneath his neat little goatee, the man jerks his head away. He does not answer, but Reinhardt can see it in his eyes: how he tries to be brave in the face of his certain doom.

He is a doctor, Reinhardt knows. More used to being inside his laboratories than spending his time out on the battlefield. He’s young and supple and innocent. Maybe Overwatch wanted to take mercy on him. Maybe they did not want to watch his pretty brown eyes become jaded.

Reinhardt smirks and reaches up without missing a beat, pulling the knot of his tie a bit tighter.

He stares down at the bound little bird, watching as his docile eyes flick to him again and again. He can see him trying to figure out who he is.

Last time he’s seen him, Reinhardt had been wearing his Blackheart armor. In a perfectly fitted suit he is something else, and he smirks.

“Don’t be afraid,” he murmurs, usually booming voice pitched into a low, soothing rumble. The medic’s full lips thin and he turns his head farther away. “You are not alone.”

The man snorts and Reinhardt steps closer, one big hand coming into his white hair, attempting to stroke it. When Angelo twists his head to dislodge him, he changes his tactic and grips at him hard, pulling his head back until the pretty bird visibly grits his teeth.

“I am not lying to you. You are not alone. We have more Overwatch agents in our facility.”

Angelo’s eyes snap open, staring up at him, eyebrows drawn tight in concern. Reinhardt smirks, pulling him forward, unceremoniously mashing the prisoner’s face against his crotch, then dragging his cheek against his slowly filling cock. Angelo is a big man. Reinhardt loves playing with them.

“I think if you are a good boy, they won’t get hurt… too much.”

Angelo’s fierce struggle and indignant noises suddenly peter out. When Reinhardt glances down, the good doctor is staring up at him with wide brown eyes. Shocked.

Reinhardt sighs and drags one big finger along Angelo’s cheekbone.

“In trying to spare you the atrocities of war, I think Overwatch has done you more dirty than anybody else could have done.”

.o.

He’s sloppy and panick-y from lack of air, but not half-bad at sucking cock. A natural. Reinhardt had suspected as much – it is always the cute and naive ones – but he’s nonetheless pleasantly surprised.

There’s not been much crying and protest; no hint of teeth as he first nudged his way carefully into the good doctor’s mouth and then, even more carefully into his throat. He’s a good boy, trying not to give him any reason to hurt his precious friends.

Reinhardt sighs, head back, staring unseeingly at the ceiling as he just lets himself feel the warm, desperate contractions around his dick. He’s standing above Angelo, having crowded him against the wall, and is just leisurely fucking straight down into his throat.

He can hear Angelo’s gurgling, muffled by his cock jammed down his throat. He’s still panicking but he’s gotten better about it. He’s no longer clawing desperately at Reinhardt’s massive thighs but just… accepting the treatment. He’s letting Reinhardt suffocate him on his fat cock, tears at the corners of his eyes, gaze a bit vacant as he tries to battle his body’s natural panic response.

When Reinhardt lets up on him and pulls out, he takes huge, ragged breaths, a single dry sob leaving him. There’s a thick line of spit connecting Reinhardt’s flushed glans and Angelo’s bottom lip.

“You’re a good little soldier, aren’t you?” Reinhardt croons, nudging Angelo’s cheek with one thick knuckle. He uses one of the big rings decorating his fingers tug against the doctor’s lip, watching how Angelo just lets him do it. “All for the sake of your little friends. Hmm. How noble.”

He hooks his thumb into the side of Angelo’s mouth, pulling, watching as the doctor just *let’s him*, looking up at him with dark, sweet eyes. He’s gorgeous.

Reinhardt wonders if he will wail when Reinhardt stuffs his ass full of dick. Will he try to crawl away or will he take it, resigned to his fate. In any case, he would look gorgeous on his cock, of that he’s plenty sure.

He pulls farther against the corner of Angelo’s mouth, thumb pressing down on the bottom row of teeth to urge him to open his jaw wide, which Angelo does, showing off his pretty, soft tongue and the raw, red back of his throat that Reinhardt has already so thoroughly, deeply fucked.

“You are a natural. Perfect little toy. So obedient… Do you find solace in the knowledge that you keep your friend’s safe?” Reinhardt leans forward again, knees bending minimally as he starts dragging his cock against the wet cushion of Angelo’s tongue.

He smiles serenely at the defiant look entering the doctor’s eyes, then pushes in deeper, dragging the fat glans just where Angelo’s gag reflex begins to see him try to suppress his choking.

“That is fine. I will teach you soon enough. You are a whore and nobody has trained you properly – but daddy Reinhardt has you, sweetheart. I will show you how good it can feel to just lose yourself in a nice fat cock spreading you open and filling you up. Soon you won’t have to worry about your friends anymore. You will forget them. They are not important. They *will not be* important. Not as much as getting filled with dick and servicing your new masters.”

Angelo’s eyebrows pull together. He looks stormy and rebellious. But Reinhardt will teach him.

7th Batch Ko-Fi Fics: 10th Fill

Soldier76/Endeavor – BNHA/OW crossover; predicament bondage; non-con/rape; coercion – Endeavor has found himself in a new world but its inhabitants are not willing to put up with his shit.

Soldier: 76 leans back, precariously balancing on his chair, shoulders brushing occasionally against the wall behind him. He quietly watches Endeavor’s struggle, his facemask in place to give the pro hero no lead; nothing to go on.

He’s in the room, but Endeavor could just as well be alone in his struggle for how responsive 76 is. He’s long stopped trying to rage and threaten his way out of the situation. By now all he does is try and keep his balance as he is stretched tall, throat just so constricted by a thick, Quirk dampening collar.

The whole setup is as simple as it is insidious: Arms bound behind his back, and legs kept apart with a spreader bar which has no practical reason in his mind other than the old man’s viewing pleasure.

There’s a thick rope leading from the back of his collar up into a sturdy ring in the ceiling… and down to the hook whose fat ball tip is just about breaching his hole.

He’s sweating and fatigued, throat burning from the times he’s tried to pull out of the situation by sheer desperate muscle strength, not only managing to push the hook deeper into his aching hole but also damn near strangle himself.

By now he’s almost… afraid to move this way or that. He wonders how long the old geezer is planning on keeping him like this. He wonders if any of the other idiots from his organization know what fucked up games he is playing.

Endeavor jerks when the soldier suddenly stands. Warily he watches him advance, cool blue eyes taking him in. He is powerful for a quirkless human. They all are with their respective technologies, and Endeavor is not quite sure what they are capable of.

The soldier comes to a halt in front of him. He has to tilt his head back in order to look into Endeavor’s face which is the only solace in the situation.

The silence stretches between them, only broken by Endeavor’s short, precise panting – everything to keep as still as possible. The soldier’s eyebrow twitches, but Enji does not know what it means.

He almost flinches when he suddenly speaks with a gravelly voice.

“Doused the flames, didn’t I?” Enji bares his teeth in a growl, mildly leaning towards him, yet all that he manages is the collar tightening against his throat and the hook sliding deeper into his hole.

His growl fizzles out and he rightens back up, hatred simmering quietly in his eyes while sweat springs up along his upper lip, his insides bearing down on the intruder, trying to force the hook out of him.

“You understand I had to take precautions. We don’t let just anybody join Overwatch. Given your… peculiar circumstances, though, we have no other option as to keep you at least confined.”

He pauses for a moment, one gloved hand stretching out to touch Endeavor’s lower belly just above the coarse thatch of his pubes and the undecisive, humiliating half-chub of his cock.

Enji, not wanting to get touched, tries to dance out of the way and immediately pulls the rope taut once more, the smooth metal sliding into him and pressing into his prostate.

Stars dance in front of his eyes, the lack of oxygen making everything that much more intense. He only realizes he is panting like a dog, tongue hanging out, when the derisive click of a tongue brings him somewhat back into the room.

“You are powerful. Winston and Angela are intrigued by those little parlor tricks you can do…” Those names don’t mean anything to Enji. He bares his teeth again, but it is weak. There’s no fire behind it.

Just like there is no fire in him, and the feeling of the Quirk dampening collar has him claustrophobic. His flames are a part of him just like his face, and their sudden absence makes him feel… vulnerable.

Enji Todoroki does not cope well with the feeling of vulnerability.

“Don’t look at me like that. We are no bad people here. But we do have to ensure everybody is functioning well. Listening to orders…” His gloved hand slides down, fingers curling unselfconsciously around Enji’s fat cock. Every muscle in his body tenses, fighting against the fatigue while he wills himself to remain quiet and not spear himself on the insidious hook once more. It becomes more difficult when the soldier starts weighing his cock in the palm of his hand. Getting a feeling for the heft of it.

Soldier: 76 hums, takes up where he’s left: “…Obeying orders. Say – can you be a good boy until we have figured out how you managed to stumble into our dimension? Can you… obey?”

He squeezes, the rough thumb of his gloves starting to play with Endeavor’s silky foreskin. The massive muscles in his thighs are trembling, his knees are getting weak.

He realizes with a deep seated desperation that he’s stuck between a rock and a hard place. The soldier squeezes his cock unkindly, and Endeavor’s knees give way for a second, the collar pulling taut against his throat and the hook sliding in deep and smooth.

He tries to get his footing back but the spreader bar makes it weirdly difficult. He rotates mildly in the awkward hanging position he finds himself in, and only manages to drive the hook even deeper, pressing so hard into his prostate for a moment that tears spring up in his eyes, then not pressing into it but only grazing it which is… almost worse.

All the while the old soldier watches him, quiet, calculating, his hand mean and harsh on Enji’s cock.

“Will you obey?”

Enji gurgles.

Beneath the mask, Soldier: 76 smirks.

7th Batch Ko-Fi Fics: 3rd Fill

Soldier76/Zenyatta/Lúcio – continuation of this fic – contains coercion, non-con/dub-con, dirty talk, humiliation/degradation – Jack has the two of them at his home to perform for his pleasure…

It has almost been too easy to get them to the point they are now at: softly humping on Jack’s unmade bed, pressing suckling little kisses against each other’s mouth while he sits behind the camera and films the whole thing.

It’s like they had almost been waiting for it. Like they had hoped someone would eventually stumble across them and unveil them as the dirty little tramps they really are. It would have taken all the fun out of having power to lord over them if watching them didn’t provide him with so much satisfaction.

“Yeah, you like to perform, don’t you?” he murmurs finally when he’s looked through the lens one last time to make sure they were nicely framed, then he takes a step back to watch the action unfold properly before him.

Zenyatta’s cheeks have flushed a nice dark red, and there’s a bit of a frown between Lúcio’s brows. At least they have the decency to look mildly ashamed by their whorish conduct. Jack pushes a hand unselfconsciously into his shorts and strokes his cock slowly, leisurely. He has all the time in the world, after all.

When Zenyatta twists his hips minimally away, ostensibly to lighten the pressure against his cock, Jack can see how tented both of their tight leggins already are. They’re as into the situation as he is, even if they played demure and horrified in the beginning. As he watches, the bright yellow-and-green pants Lúcio has donned slowly sport a wet patch where his dick is drooling into the fabric.

“Fucking sluts,” Jack grunts. It sounds disgusted even though it gets him off, and the flush on Zenyatta’s cheeks quickly spreads out to his ears.

He lifts his thigh – long and slender, just like the rest of the boy – and pushes his knee over Lúcio’s hip. Jack makes his way over to is old ratty armchair and plops into it, feet propped on the edge of the bed, not far away from the pretty boys making out for him.

“Sit on him,” he suggests and feels a spike of unholy pleasure when Zenyatta *does*, shoving himself astride Lúcio’s hips, their mouths finally separating with a wet little pop that goes straight to Jack’s balls. Their lips are plump and soft looking. Like they would look gorgeous around his dick.

He wonders if the little sluts even know how to treat a *real* cock. He’ll find out later.

They dry fuck for him, making little breathy sounds that seem straight out of some softcore porn. They drag their little cocks against each other, bulges pressing and rubbing and squishing as they get a bit needy and desperate in their need.

They even look at each other like they got stars in their fucking eyes. Lúcio’s hands are all over Zenyatta, squeezing at his small ass and supple thighs and urging him to grind down harder. Maybe make their little cute dicks hurt a bit… and how interesting of a thought is that?

But they also seem to have forgotten Jack, which… does not sit well with him. He frowns, thumb smearing across the crown of his dick, the tip of his pointer finger idly nudging its way into his foreskin to feel how much wetness has gathered in there already.

He rudely shoves one foot against Zenyatta’s hip, jostling both boys out of their lovey-dovey little bubble they’ve sequestered themselves into. When they glance at him, he makes a motion with his free hand.

“I wanna see you do a sixty-nine. Don’t get those little dicks out, though.”

He should be more adventurous, maybe – they *are* yoga teachers, after all, and nice and flexible – but for the moment he wants to simply bask in the fact that they do everything he tells him to.

They scramble to obey. They look lovely, faces stuffed with each other’s bulge, mouths greedy as they start licking and suckling through the thin fabric of their leggins. He slowly jerks himself as he watches them play for him, and has to stop once or twice just to let the feeling of orgasm recede again.

He feels delirious, almost in trance as he watches them. Listens to them. They are nasty little boys that make a lot of noise, and he *loves* hearing their little slurping sounds and sighs and thoughtless hums as they get more breathless, more eager. More needy. Their slim hips start shifting, motions getting a bit more sharp and demanding.

They want to shoot their nasty little loads, that much is obvious – and Jack could come just from the fact that they have to wait for *him* to give them the okay.

“Stop,” he croaks finally. They turn their heads towards him, staring, cheeks dark with a flush, mouths hanging open to pull enough oxygen into their lungs. He catches Lúcio’s gaze travel down towards the big cock in his fist, and Jack grins slow and satisfied. Of course they would crave the real thing after getting themselves riled up with each other’s little toy.

“Come here and suck my dick.”

They crawl towards him like kittens, sitting pretty between his thighs and getting at his dick like they are starved. He notices them holding hands, but does not have enough brain power to tell them to stop that because Zenyatta is slurping noisily at his foreskin while Lúcio is sucking one of his balls into his mouth, and *fuck* he is in heaven.