Oooooh man I’m actually really feeling softdom!Young! Hanzo bullying older McCree??? Like Hanzo all proper and polite, and McCree totally overwhelmed and spoiled by this young prince? Maybe it steps a little bit into HardDom territory, with Hanzo teasing/edging McCree, who’s totally beholden to this vision of youthful beauty… maybe even Hanzo deigning to touch McCree’s cock with his impossibly delicate feet… if you’re feeling it, that is. If not, then that’s ok too! :)

Hanzo likes it when Mr. McCree takes him out to dinner, though not for the reason most people might assume. He enjoys the free food and company well enough, but his real enjoyment came from the needy, hopeful looks Mr. McCree shot him, and the knowing little glances they got from all around the tables. Those glances that told him the other patrons thought they knew exactly what was up: Hanzo being young and pretty and going to be fucked on Mr. McCree’s big cock sooner rather than later after the dinner.

He thinks it’s amusing that they think like that when both of them knew how the evening would really go.

“Sit down,” Hanzo orders him as soon as they step into Mr. McCree’s expensive apartment. His big hands flutter helplessly around Hanzo’s hips for a moment, obviously debating whether he should have a touch, but ultimately deciding against it. He blows out a long breath and sits in the chair Hanzo had indicated with a regal nod of his head.

“Did you enjoy yourself?” Hanzo asks him mildly, playing with his tie and slowly loosening the tight, perfect knot. Mr. McCree’s head tilts back, showing him his throat. He swallows hard and nods, watching the gape of Hanzo’s shirt.

Hanzo, noticing his distraction, smirks and stands up. He sheds the garment and cups a pec with one hand. Watches how Mr. McCree’s eyes bug out and his cheeks get ruddy red beneath his beard.

“Did you like ogling me tonight?” he continues.

“You’re way too pretty,” McCree agrees with a groan. He lifts his hands and drags them across his face. He looks like a man with an addiction, and Hanzo enjoys that very much.

“Open your pants. Show me your cock.”

Mr. McCree lets out a long, whistling breath through his nose. His hands are shaking as he fumbles with his pants, hectic as a young teen as he fishes inside his boxers and doesn’t manage to pull his cock out for the longest time.

When he finally does manage to wrestle it free from the wet fabric, he grunts in elation, slumping back, large barrel chest heaving as he presents Hanzo with the fat dick; ruddy red and with bulging veins. Not a pretty cock but so very, very tempting.

Hanzo’s mouth waters at the sight; the way Mr. McCree’s large fingers play unselfconsciously with the foreskin; pulling it back and displaying the shiny fat tip to Hanzo’s dark, intent gaze.

“You know what they think?” Hanzo murmurs as he slips out of his boots and leans down to pull off his socks. “They think I’m drooling on your cock right now. That you fuck my throat with that big, fat dick of yours.”

It is crude, and not his preferred way to talk, but he’s found out early how very much Mr. McCree likes it when he’s being lewd. Like now as he groans and tightens his fingers in a ring just beneath the swollen glans; milking a few drops from the slit.

“You like it that they think that way,” Hanzo states, rucking up his pant leg and lifting his foot; so smooth and unblemished looking next to McCree’s dark red dick.

It feels hot against the sole of his foot as he presses it up against McCree’s clothed belly. He allows himself a smirk as the older man immediately snatches his hand away; letting him play with his cock however he likes.

He is chuffing away like a steam engine, hands clawing at the armrests of his chair. His chin is on his chest, staring down at Hanzo’s toes curling and uncurling against the swollen head.

“If only they knew,” Hanzo murmurs, straightening his slim ankle to press the ball of his foot more firmly against McCree’s shaft. “That you pay me to be mean to you…”

“No need to be so shy, it’s just you and me.” Omega Roadhog and The OW guys

“No need to be so shy. It’s just you and me.”

The Omega’s dark eyes flick past Lúcio, towards the other Alphas waiting just behind; watching. Eager.

The young Alpha smirks; a little self-deprecating. “Just you, me, and them,” he corrects, hands slowly stroking down Roadhog’s back.

The Omega doesn’t look close to relaxing any time soon. To the contrary: he is shivering, whole body in motion. He presents, but looks loath to do so. His chipped fingernails are clawing at the floor, his sides heaving with every deep, shuddering breath he takes.

It takes Lúcio a little too long to understand that he is, for all intents and purposes, deathly afraid. The realization throws him for a loop: Roadhog doesn’t seem like he would be afraid of anybody; let alone a few Alphas whose heads he could crush easily between his meaty fists.

Then again, he is an Omega in heat; one that they had found nesting on some old rags in a dusty corner; grunting low and almost sub-vocal as he stuffed himself with a toy Lúcio doesn’t even want to know where he got that from.

There’s some real, animal pain in his dark, small eyes and it makes him croon at the huge Omega; makes him want to squirrel him away and take care of him.

“No need to be afraid,” he whispers, hands gentle as he pets him down. Feels how his skin is clammy with sweat. The others come closer slowly, their scents spicy and thick, and Roadhog inhales deeply, the sides of his huge belly expanding mightily before all of a sudden he lets the air whoosh out of him. He becomes almost docile, then; lifts his wide hips, offering himself up for the gaggle of Alphas that rumble low and appreciatively.

Reinhardt pets up his back; large hand settling at his neck. Holding him down as one would a skittish Omega during their first heat, even though Roadhog doesn’t look like he’s going to move away any time soon.

Still, it seems to help a little; feeds the reluctant submission with a bit of cautious relaxation.

The Omega has stopped clawing at the floor for the moment. He has drug a ratty blanket towards himself and presses his face into it. Seeking solace in his own heat scent as Lúcio leans down and presses warm kisses against the small of his back.

He wonders, as he lets his fingers tickle at the swollen, hot gape of Roadhog’s opening, what other Alphas he has experienced in his life.

Then again, he doesn’t think he wants to know, actually.

I’d love to see what you do with “Do you want this? Why don’t you beg for it, hm?” with cocky!Morrison and needy!Genji. Totally up to you if it’s set in the past or present <3

Morrison leans farther back in his chair, knees splayed wide. He has not bothered pushing down his heavy pants; just pulled his dick out from the opening in the front, idly weighing it on the wide palm of his hand.

His cheek is resting on the fist of the other hand, elbow braced on the armrest of his chair.

He watches Shimada, and Shimada looks back: unblinking, unmoving, unnerving. His dark eyes are glowing a faint red, like coals smoldering away, and sometimes Jack imagines there to be a furnace inside him; a heavy, perpetually working machine that doesn’t let the young man come to rest, and is responsible for his ever aggressive nature.

Kneeling on the floor, watching his cock – the blunt head appearing again and again from the foreskin, wet and dark and inviting – he looks a lot calmer than usual.

“Do you want this?” he murmurs, thumb moving, pulling down on his foreskin again; lifting his cock to present it to Shimada in all its glory.

He looks hungry, the metal of his jaw glinting as it moves faintly, light reflecting on the smooth surface.

“Why don’t you beg for it, hm?”

Shimada’s mouth falls open, though he is not saying a word. Morrison doesn’t think he has ever actually hear him speak. It is not of importance: his body speaks for him if he so chose.

His mouth falls open, tongue lolling out.

In the back of his throat, Morrison can see metal glinting. The bottom row of his teeth are shiny titanium. His tongue, however… that is all human. Soft and pink and glistening with the saliva that’s gathering rapidly the longer he stares at Morrison’s cock. Close enough to smell. Too far to lap at the broad tip.

If the tongue isn’t human, Angela outdid herself modelling it perfectly. Organically. He wonders if she knew what it would be used for.

He stops leaning his head on his fist, and instead uses the hand to reach for Shimada. His eyes flinch towards the movement, but he stays steady otherwise.

Morrison cups his jaw; pushes his thumb into the open, accepting mouth, idly dragging the gloved finger across Shimada’s tongue.

“You want my cock?” he murmurs, pulling himself a little further towards him, cock almost close enough to touch his lips. Shimada stays steadfast but his eyes… his eyes are almost crossing; trying to get a look. Saliva dripping from the tip of his perfect little tongue.

He wants it. He wants it dearly.

Morrison plays with his tongue just a little longer. Just long enough to show him he is not in charge: and then he slips a little closer still, indulging himself. Slapping the fat weight of his dick against Shimada’s cheeks. Smears it across the prominent cheekbones Angela had been able to reform. Beautiful.

“You’re a good boy, hm? I always get those complaints about you… people are afraid of you… but you’re nothing but a little kitty cat, are you?”

Shimada is drooling liberally, staring up at him, still as a statue until Morrison finally pops the swollen head inside his open, wanting mouth.

“Yeah,” he grunts, slumping back in his chair, eyes going half-lidded as Shimada suckles, tongue cradling what little he’s been given to play with. “Just a little kitty cat wanting some cream and loving.”

Ooohhh Doomzo with “Shh, don’t cry. It’ll all be over soon. Now keep counting” !!!

“Shh, don’t cry. It’ll all be over soon. Now keep counting.”

Hanzo takes a shuddering breath. He studiously does not look at Akande – he seems embarrassed about his outbreak, his cheeks wet with tears and his voice raw from his unadulterated sobs.

His sudden breakdown had come at somewhat of a surprise, but he seemed all the calmer for it, now.

He is meek as the next slap hits his red ass, almost whispering ‘Eight’. Akande hums thoughtfully, one huge hand slowly rubbing across Hanzo’s back; down to his tailbone and then all the way back up to the nape of his neck where he curled his fingers to hold him down.

It is not needed, as Hanzo is lying heavy and limp across his lap, but the lord of Shimada Castle seems to like it all the same.

The next slap coaxes another sob out of him, but no longer as earth shattering and bone deep as the ones from before. It is almost an aftershock. A small hiccup as his ass gets warmed up and the sting dulls into a deep nestled pain.

“Ten,” Akande counts for him the last slap, voice low and measured, palm motionless once again as it just feels up the hot, tender skin. “You did very well.”

He had been surprised as the Lord had called for his special services, but now he feels like he understands a bit better.

Divested of his heavy, traditional robes, Lord Hanzo Shimada looks almost like a boy. Small and vulnerable.

Akande’s big fingers find their way gently between his cheeks, touching the virgin pink furl of his asshole.

A mighty sob shakes Hanzo’s body, and he cries out something. A plea for more. A plea for him to stop. A plea for mercy. All and nothing.

“Shh,” he murmurs, fingers slowly rounding the warm, tender opening. “You’re being so good for me.”

He will pet him more, and then stand him up; dress him himself to make sure everything is in perfect order before he steps in front of his servants once more.

But for now, he’ll let him calm down. Let him dry his tears against Akande’s loose pants, and whimper like a recalcitrant schoolkid.

For all that Hanzo is shy about that particular need of his – and very pointedly does not want to discuss it – he has managed to accumulate a veritable harem of daddies.

So when Reinhardt is indisposed by work or his own aging body, McCree will gladly take his place.

Hanzo loves and loathes these occasions in equal measures.

McCree makes it just so… so very… embarrassing.

He doesn’t let him hide for once; crooning just as syrupy-sweet as Reinhardt but catching his wrists all the same; holding them down and out of the way, watching with self-indulgent intent the way Hanzo’s chest heaves; nipples perky and on display for his viewing pleasure.

McCree is simultaneously a lazier and a stricter Daddy than Reinhardt. He likes to lie back and have Hanzo sit on his big, fat, ruddy cock – but he also likes to tell him exactly how to work his cunt along his dick.

He likes to grab Hanzo’s thighs and pinch him; slap his ass and pull at his nipples, all the while lazily sucking on the end of a cigar he sloppily stuck in the corner of his mouth.

He likes to hear Hanzo whine. He likes to see him flushed and unsure, dark eyes wet and mouth open.

McCree doesn’t indulge his more petulant moods as much as Reinhardt does. He pushes, and goads, and – on a few memorable occasions – has denied to give Hanzo his cock if he hadn’t behaved beforehand.

After sessions with Jesse, Hanzo is empty and serene. Tuckered out like a little puppy, pliant and open to get filled with warm affection.

And for all that he is ambivalent about the way McCree goes about his business, there’s no question about how much he loves his cock. How eager he is to be allowed to spend hours on his knees, happily drooling into the coarse thatch of pubes, hands on the low hanging balls to keep them nice and warm so they’d fill him up good later on.

He loves sitting down on it; feeling how the fleshy girth in the middle of the shaft will stretch him that much wider; until his eyes start to tear up and his nose begins to run. He loves scratching his fingers through McCree’s chest hair; to hold on to it during the ride, watching McCree’s face contort with pain at the sharp tugs, but letting him do it all the same.

Sometimes, Hanzo will be overwhelmed with the feeling of McCree’s cock in his belly; will lie down on him and rub his cheek mindlessly against his soft pecs, babbling for Daddy as his hips move relentlessly; filling himself over and over again; making himself take everything Daddy had to give.

And other times, Reinhardt will be there, too; his huge hands cupping Hanzo’s pecs; fingers rolling the painfully sensitive nipples, squeezing his chest – showing it off for McCree’s viewing pleasure.

Hanzo thinks he likes those times the best. When both Daddies are there to gentle him down afterwards; box him in between their thick, hairy bodies and keep him down as long as he needs to.

The first push is always the worst. For all that Hanzo croons for cock like a seasoned whore, he always seems to forget just how big Reinhardt is. It begins with his breathing halting in a gasp, and his shoulders going tight before the pretty little cup of his back vanishes as he tries to hunch down and curl away.

His hole, rim pouting and wet with lube, winks at Reinhardt. It wants to be filled, the little cunt. Stretched wide around his cock – but Hanzo’s nerves won’t let him.

“Hey now,” Reinhardt murmurs, huge hand slowly sliding down the slope of Hanzo’s spine, and, when he doesn’t react more than a shake of his head, he manhandles him around onto his back.

Hanzo’s cheeks are flushed a ruddy red. They look even more striking against the stark black of his beard. His liquid, dark eyes stare up at Reinhardt with mute helplessness.

“There you go… What a pretty boy you are,” Reinhardt croons, watching Hanzo’s mouth abruptly go flat, the corners pulling down. Trembling. He throws one arm up and across his eyes, shielding himself from Reinhardt’s inquisitive stare. His Adam’s apple bobs.

“Gonna let Daddy give you his cock?” Hanzo’s mouth drops open at that; soft and inviting enough that Reinhardt swoops down and kisses him; makes him stop hiding under his arm in favor of clutching at him.

Hanzo is no small man; but beneath Reinhardt he seems almost dainty. Young.

“Daddy,” he groans, mouth pliant, letting Reinhardt suck on the tip of his tongue. He gets messy when he’s getting smothered beneath a big, warm body; does things he wouldn’t do normally.

Reinhardt tries it again, then; takes his cock into his huge fist and guides it towards that well-prepared hole.

Hanzo whines; face scrunching up – but it is more in his head than anything else.

The first push always is so daunting; his warm, pliant muscles having to stretch, stretch, stretch to accommodate the unrelenting width of the tip of Reinhardt’s cock.

There’s sweat beading at Hanzo’s greying temples; his body clenching down like wet silk: suckling and clinging even as it tries to force him back out.

“Daddy,” he whines again – sobs, almost – fingernails scratching into Reinhardt’s back.

“Hush… Hush now…” Reinhardt grunts, not unkind, one good eye watching with warm interest as tears prick at the corners of Hanzo’s eyes when he gets stretched wider; rim trembling around the widest part of the crown, before it finally finally pops in; held snug inside Hanzo’s body.

He is a mess beneath him, cheeks wet with sweat and tears, mouth trembling uncontrollably.

“You gonna keep Daddy’s cock warm?”, Reinhardt murmurs, pressing kisses against Hanzo’s hot, wet cheeks. “Gonna keep it nice and snug?”

He starts moving carefully; little rocking motions to feed Hanzo more of his cock; long and fat and so ready to keep the archer warm from the inside. Hanzo starts wailing, then: tries to muffle his wet mouth against the swell of Reinhardt’s shoulder, but there’s no stopping the heaving sobs he’s taking.

He will tucker himself out sooner or later. He’ll be happier for it afterwards. When he’s done getting out all the emotion he has had bottled up for too long.

He’ll get sleepy and pliant and happy on Reinhardt’s cock; grab for him with uncoordinated hands and croon; thanking Daddy so prettily for the warm dick that’s filling his belly. Asking for his cream with suckling little kisses to Reinhardt’s mouth.

His poor baby boy.

DVa has new shoes. They’re cute and small; shiny red pumps that hug her dainty feet and have the most delightful little heels that make satisfactory, ominous sounds when they click against the floor of her room, walking up and down behind the Soldier; watching him intently as he raises his ass higher into the air.

Showing off and submissive.

“Spread your knees wider.”

He complies easily, cheek pressed against the floor, cock swinging heavy and fat between his thighs. Already excited because she let him watch her undress; let him see her small tits and pretty cunt, hidden beneath the curls of her pubes.

“You’re a dirty, old man,” she tells him; and like this she can watch his hole clench, so small and pink between his meager ass cheeks. Usually she would go for it; push a dry, small finger up his ass and tell him how pathetic he is. How she’s going to fuck his cunt until he has to walk bow legged and everybody will know the big, bad Soldier 76 takes it up the ass.

However this time… she is more interested on what lies beneath. His sac big and dusky red; looking ridiculously vulnerable without the hair. She lifts one leg and taps the flat top of her foot against the underside.

She likes the feeling of it; how heavy and warm it is. How it makes him whimper immediately, his thighs shaking.

He’ll open his whole body up for her tortures, but the second there is an unfriendly little hand on his testicles, he curls up like a snail. It is cute, really.

DVa doesn’t prepare him for the sudden, sharp kick she delivers, foot stretched, making sure not to hit him with the hard point of her new shoes. Still, he yelps and folds together immediately, whimpering and pathetic – and her cunt pulses, nipples going tight with excitement.

“Up,” she tells him, voice rough and throaty. Urgent. One of her hands wanders between her thighs, fingers parting the humid tangle of her pubes; touching the slick lips of her pussy. “Up, come on. Show me your balls, perv.”

He whimpers but moves, lifting his ass, back a tantalizing cup. Offering himself.

She thinks if she ordered him to, he would offer her his testicles on the palm of his hand.

She kicks again, and this time he stays where he is, even though he makes a punched out sound of pain. She kicks again. And again.

She is addicted to the fleshy slapping sound; the sight of his balls bouncing ridiculously and swaying under their own girth and heft. His cock is still hard and needy, and she wonders if she could kick him to orgasm.

She pinches her clit, then, knees feeling weak, the points of her tits hurting dully with how hard they are.

“Pathetic old man,” she murmurs, going down in a squat, making sure some cool air hits her hot, swollen pussy. She wants a cock and wonders feverishly if she can hunt down Akande. Climb on his lap and cram his fat dick into her little pussy while knowing that Soldier is hurting and needy, balls swollen from her attentions.

She pulls back an arm and hesitates for only a second before slapping the heavy testicles, watching with delight how they swing for her; listening to Soldier’s strangled sob, the way his body wants to curl into itself again.

God, she loves this…

(flop) How about post recall sweet, soft top Genji giving Hanzo some body worship ‘3’ (chu’s yo face)

sorry it took so long :O hope you enjoy it, tho!

“You’re still sitting seiza,” Genji comments in a low murmur, face hidden behind his visor. Hanzo tries to mimic him; tries to keep his face neutral and stony to give just as little away as his brother, but he fails miserably, dark eyes glancing up hopefully from beneath his dark lashes.

“It suits you,” Genji says after a little pause meant to unnerve Hanzo just a bit more. He reaches for him, ergonomically shaped fingertips beneath his chin, lifting his head up for further inspection. “You have always been beautiful, brother.”

He strokes along the line of his neatly trimmed beard, thumb coming up to trace the shape of his wide mouth, the corners pulled down as ever in a severe, haughty expression that comes natural to his brother’s disposition; a boon just as much as it is a curse.

Genji keeps his head tilted up with a hand beneath his chin; looks his fill at his body. He has been lither in youth; not as heavy-set with thick muscles, but Genji can’t say that he minds. Not when he watches the swell of his tits positively heaving.

“Come here…” he says, and then tags on as an afterthought: “Brother…” and Hanzo shudders bodily but does crawl closer: knee waking between Genji’s knees. Looking up at him with a sly kind of hunger that makes Genji smirk beneath his visor.

“You’ve become prettier with age,” he tells him earnestly, one hand dipping down and cupping the swell of his pec. Hanzo preens beneath the words and the attention; arches his back, and pushes his chest into his brother’s touch.

He has always been vain. He laps the praise up like it’s water in a desert. Genji thinks that he hasn’t been admired in a long, long time. There had been no underlings on the road, assuring him of his looks.

Genji doesn’t comment, but urges him to lean forward with the hand at his chin. Hanzo goes easily, willingly, mouth falling open as he sees Genji’s cock; long and sleek, the different segments barely registering as they slide across his tongue and down his throat without preamble.

Hanzo, as much as he likes to make others think that he is above them; that he is cool and collected and superior at all times; is an old hand at sucking cock. He knows how to angle his body, knows how to keep his throat relaxed. He knows how to drool liberally to get the way smooth and slick, eyes never leaving Genji’s impassive faceplate.

He gets off on not knowing where he stands with his brother just as much as he loathes it. It makes him more desperate; more eager to show himself off.

It makes him less likely to stop Genji, even as he pushes in deep enough to make Hanzo’s nose bury in his pubes if he still had them. Instead, he mashes his brother’s nose against his body, and listens to him gag; wet and ugly and perfect, throat working and clicking around the intrusion.

He holds his head for a few seconds before he finally lets him pull back, the sound a nasty squelch that quite literally lights his body up. He watches Hanzo’s dull red face; lips wet with spit, eyes close to overflowing with tears.

Genji hums softly, hands traveling to the back of his head, tugging free the ribbon holding his hair.

“Beautiful. Just like old times, isn’t it, Anija?” He pulls him back in while Hanzo is still heaving for breath, and his brother opens up more than willingly for the abuse, hands shaking where they are curled atop his thighs. Never lifting to push at Genji.

He lets himself get throat fucked, neck swelling and turning a brick red from the air restriction, tears soon flowing down his cheeks. He is undignified like this: drooling and gagging and crying… but still so very hungry. So very ready for his brother’s cock.

“Doing so good,” Genji purrs, making sure to drag his cock along Hanzo’s tongue and make him feel every ridge of the segments. “I love you so much, anija.”

Hanzo’s broad shoulders relax a bit more; body slumping enough that Genji has to hold him upright to finish what he started.

He laughs at how silly his brother is, and Hanzo just mindlessly nuzzles his cock.

hey cyber. hey. whispers into mic imagine robert taking his first ever dicking from damien and he’s a whiny teary eyed mess and mary is there to hold him and calm him down by letting him suck at her tits and drink up her milk like the good boy he is and she just strokes his hair through it all

(male terms for Damien’s genitals)

Robert groans, biceps trembling as his elbows give way and he forces himself to lock them back into place. His back is tense, fingers gripping for dear life at the blanket they laid out on the floor in front of Damien’s fireplace.

Damien hums, hips stilling, one hand slowly dragging along the dip of Robert’s spine.

“Relax,” he murmurs, eyes fixed down where his sleek, silicone cock is only halfway inside the warm clutch of Robert’s body. He grabs at one cheek, pulling it to the side, thumb inching over to pet along the pouty rim of Robert’s hole. “You’re so good. Taking my cock like a champ.”

It does not seem to relax him, though; Robert whines and lets his head fall between his hunched shoulders. He is fighting his own body’s response to crawl away from the intrusion, and it leaves him tense and unhappy and needier than ever to be fucked and dominated by Damien.

Mary pets over his unwashed hair once, then grips it hard and yanks his head back to see the grimace on his face and the wet shine to his eyes.

“Don’t cry now,” she murmurs and shuffles closer, the soft smell of milk all around her; she hasn’t let any of her boys nurse for the whole day, anticipating Robert’s little hiccup. She knows her boy, after all. “Here. Nurse on mommy, while you’re getting dicked like you need to.”

Robert’s mouth tightens into a petulant line for a moment, squinting at her unhappily, but the sight of her breasts heavy with milk, nipples large and dark and in dire need of a mouth distracts him from her belittling attitude rather quickly.

Damien chuckles as he watches Robert latch on; suckling loud and rude; smacking his wet lips every now and then as his body relaxes. It takes some awkward maneuvering as he wants to stop holding himself up and instead lie down on Mary, but eventually they manage it to get her beneath him in a way that allows him to nurse with his head on her tits.

His body goes soft and pliant for Damien, then; his cock slipping in on a sudden, wet slide as the deathgrip of Robert’s inner muscles ease up and let him slip in smoothly.

He takes it well, then; groans low and delirious as Damien fucks him with easy, fluid motions, one hand at the middle of his friend’s back, the other still spreading his ass and allowing Damien to look his fill.

Whenever he breathes in deep enough, the binder makes itself known around his ribs; secure and restricting in a way that is oddly freeing.

“Taking it so well,” he murmurs, belly tight with heat whenever the base of the harness presses against his swollen, needy cock. Watching Robert messily eat, lips wet and glazed with milk, he starts wishing for that very mouth on his dick; and maybe he’ll treat himself to it later, after he’s fucked Robert good and proper and treated him to his first anal orgasm… because the way the man squirms and groans, he seems to be delightfully sensitive.

So if sombra loves gabe’s big cock, how would she feel about akande’s??

ooohhhh dear.

I think like Sombra probs wasn’t around the first time Akande was ‘with the gang’. (I think at least? don’t quote me on it.) so the first time she sees how hulking big and meaty she is, her cunt just gushes in response. Just a guttural, instinctive reaction to seeing such a fabulous man and having the cockhunter sense of a pro to know that he must have the fattest cock she’s ever experienced.

And she def wants to experience it.

Only thing is, that he seems way more interested in Gabi than her, and that kinda kills her inside. Just watching from afar (or through a video feed until that fucker gets cut off by Akande and a knowing smirk) how Doomfist puts Reaper on his knees and reduces him to a needy kitten.

Makes her crazy.

She wants that. She wants his huge fingers in her cunt, stretching her poor pussy open. She wants his insanely sexy voice in her ear telling her how he’s going to fuck her up.

Doesn’t help that she’s surrounded by good thick cocks all the time. Just staring at the video feed from the men’s changing room; biting her knuckles, other hand occupied with jerking off until her wrist cramps and her thighs shake but no orgasm will come because she needs a fucking cock slamming her until she can taste it to truly relax.

She’s probably even begged Gabriel a couple times because she adores his dick and he’s scary but not as scary as calm and cruel Doomfist. She knows Gabi is all bark and no bite.

Akande on the other hand…

It’s actually super sad to watch her sit and stare at the boss with her mouth a little gaping and her nipples prominent against the thin latex ensemble she’s wearing. Very sad. Very pathetic.

I don’t know how it happens; maybe Akande has pity on her; maybe he’s annoyed and wants her to shut the fuck up; maybe it’s something else.

But eventually she’ll get the D. Oh, she’ll get it.