Between A Rock And A Hard Place – Akanday2017

My entry into the Akanday2017 thing :3 stuck-in-the-wall Genji getting molested by Doomfist.

They have maneuvered themselves into an alley away from the fight without noticing. In the distance, the rapid shots of the Soldier’s gun could still be heard, as well as the sharp, dry roars of concrete cracking.

The little ninja is flitting around him, throwing his stars that he can – if barely – block with the unrelenting metal of his glove. They’re both silent, except their harsh breathing; they had both thought the other to give in more easily.

Still, Genji underestimates him; dancing a little too close, and getting surprised by the sheer speed with which Akande is able to move. He catches the cyborg with a backhand square across the midriff, watching with bone deep satisfaction as the small man gets flung across the alley; smashing with a lot of clashing and an enormous cloud of dust into the rickety wall of the building at the end of the alley.

Akande rolls his shoulders, trying to loosen the muscles as he slowly makes his way over as the dust begins to settle around them.

“You are a formidable opponent,” he calls, “But you are still young. You underestimate your opponent. I had thought your brother would have…”

He trails off, eyebrows lifting as the rubble and dust finally have calmed down enough to see what has occurred: namely one Genji Shimada stuck in the brittle wall of the establishment, with just his lower body sticking out, legs kicking weakly as he struggles to fight himself free of his predicament.

“Well now…” Akande purrs, stepping closer; whole demeanor changing in light of this new development, as fight drains out of him and his curiosity peaks. “It seems the Gods are still smiling on me. I’ve had such exceptionally good fortune since making my way out of prison, Mr. Shimada – and it seems you have become a part of it.”

He can faintly hear Genji through the rubble; his grunts as he struggles, trying to squirm his way forwards or backwards; twist out of the hole that is keeping him tightly pinned at his trim hips.

All he manages is to entice Akande to watch his ass; the strain of his thighs as he tries to find leverage but can barely reach the ground with the balls of his feet, his ass – gratifyingly plump and shiny – lifting up periodically for a better view.

How very fortunate indeed.

.o.

“How naughty,” Akande purrs, blunt fingertips playing with the edges of the black cloth barely keeping Genji covered.

The young man tries to kick at him, but there’s no power behind it. He is uncoordinated and still dizzy from the impact, Akande assumes. “Do your teammates know you’re being a slut, Shimada? Running around in your little thong…”

He slides a thick finger beneath the fabric, pulling it away; testing the elasticity. He does not know what kind of armor it is, but it is no ordinary cotton; it feels thicker and sleek to the touch, and apparently as a lot of give – he can pull it far away from the squirming ninja before it starts to protest.

Akande watches, lips curled in a smirk, as the fabric pulls up between Genji’s labia; digging in deep and accentuating them; plush and juicy looking. Whoever has modelled his body, has done an admirable job.

Genji’s thighs are vibrating, his hips twisting, trying to shield himself before the intrusive gaze he can feel upon himself. He only succeeds in making himself more pretty and alluring in Akande’s eyes; like a predator watching his prey dance for him.

When he finally does let off on the rude pull so he can tug the garment to the side – wanting to admire the pretty cyborg cunt in all its glory – there are already strings of toxic green slick connecting the pulsing little gape of Genji’s opening to the fabric.

Akande can’t help the booming laugh, slapping Genji’s thigh with his ungloved hand.

“A little whore! who would have thought. So naughty, Mr. Shimada; running around in your little lingerie, and getting hot and bothered when someone calls you out on it.”

He listens to Genji curse at him while he starts on the task of taking off his glove. The ninja’s voice is muffled through the brittle wall. If he is talking in English, he is not speaking clearly enough for him to be understandable.

“There is no need to get so upset,” he tells him mildly, getting a hand on each cheek and squeezing it affectionately. “See it as a… spoil of war, hm? You lost and I won. I think it is only fair for me to decide which reward I shall get…”

He sinks down on one knee, yet still needs to curl down a little more to get close to his prize; big hands on Genji’s synthetic ass, thumbs inching inwards towards the plump cunt; pulling the juicy labia aside so he can inspect the craftsmanship better.

Genji has a fat clit, sitting right there at the apex of his pussy; glowing as green as the running lights along his sleek, grey body. When Akande leans forward and breathes a hot gust of air against the vulnerable gash of his opened pussy, the progressively more enraged struggling ceases immediately.

“Wonderful work,” Akande praises; he’s not sure Genji’s sensors will pick up on it, but he can see the warm hole clench; a trickle of his juices slipping down hypnotically slow, and bathing the nub of his clit.

“Do you get excited easily, Mr. Shimada?” Akande asks, a little louder, thumb inching over to press the wide pad of it against the little opening; feeling it contract immediately beneath the touch, then bloom open again. Greedy. Eager.

Genji starts squirming again, though it seems half-hearted. A small, twist of his hips before he stands mostly still once more; ready to feel Doomfist’s thumb lazily start rounding the silky edges of his hole, getting the digit slick with his juices.

“Or is your body tuned in a little too sensitive? Gets hot for everybody that takes their time to explore?”

His thumb slides down, silky smooth, and presses against the pretty clit. There is a static cry from behind the wall; he can hear the scratching of Genji’s hands scrabbling against the brittle surface.

The sounds of war have dwindled to nothing; the combatants having slowly moved farther away from them – leaving Akande all the time in the world to lean forward and slant his mouth across his enemy’s cunt.

Genji howls on the other side of the restraint, his legs going stiff – but when Akande’s tongue drags along silky silicone folds, he angles into the sensation, a gush of more artificial slick dripping across Doomfist’s tongue.

He starts rounding the hole in slow, even motions, his thumb helping along by imitating the motion around the gratifyingly fat clit that seems to pulse to live beneath the attention; growing noticeably hot.

Akande sucks on the plump labia, drags his tongue along the folds, then spears it inside Genji’s cunt intimately deep. He is playing a game, and even though Genji sounds out of breath and angry, he does nothing to dissuade him.

His cunt is offered to Akande on a platter and all he has to do is take it.

.o.

Genji has grown complacent with the situation; his low curses devolving into sweet, submissive mewling the longer Akande ate him out – but the second he feels the blunt tip of Doomfist’s cock lazily drag through the absolute mess his pussy has become, he starts up a whole new slew of indignation, twisting and turning, trying to angle himself away.

Akande chuckles, one big hand on the round cyborg ass, the other holding his cock in position. He glances down idly, watching how the little hole stretches just a little bit as he starts putting pressure on it.

“You sound excited like a little bird,” Akande tells him indulgently. “A little sparrow, fighting for some bread-crumbs when the crow is so much bigger and stronger…”

Curiously enough, the cyborg ceases his struggling abruptly – and Akande, not knowing how long the lull will hold on, chooses to seize the opportunity and press in.

He grits his teeth, eyebrows drawing together in a severe frown as he stares down, trying to work his cock into the tight clutch of the lovely little cunt he found himself. It is not easy – it never were for him – but the synthetic pussy is determined to take him, it seems; trying its hardest to stretch smoothly, and suckle him right up in.

Genji, while still very still overall, is whining on the other side of the wall, long and drawn out, his ass first trying to dip away from the immense pressure and stretch, then lifting into it, thighs shaking, feet scrabbling at the floor.

When the head finally pops in, he cries out in elation, and Akande grins, sharp and triumphant.

“Very well, Mr. Shimada,” he murmurs in a low croon, free hand stroking the tantalizing dip in the small of his back, then running down, thumb circling the little opening of his ass – fascinated to no end by the addition that had to be, for the most part, just for aesthetics and pleasure.

He fucks slowly, carefully. He is too in awe with the craftsmanship of this body to destroy it with a careless motion. The little cunt opens up like a dream, clinging for dear life around the girth of his cock, trying so hard to lube the way with the artificial slick that bubbles out past his shaft with obscene, wet gurgling sounds.

Akande can feel Genji’s insides shift around his cock; can hear the soft thrumming of the cyborg’s body as it frantically shoves delicate machinery out of the way and ripples around his cock, pulling up tight and snug around the intrusion.

“You were made for this, weren’t you?” he rumbles, hips starting to move in a careful rhythm, eyes fixed on the obscene spread of Genji’s cunt. The plump labia stretched wide, clinging to the shaft to slide along. Genji hasn’t scrabbled at the wall for a while now, and Doomfist has the distinct impression he is just hanging there and enjoying the ride now.

His pace picks up a little, then, fucking with more surety, a cocky grin stretching out on his face. It is not often that he can ruin such pretty little cunts without them howling the whole time through. Genji takes it like a champ, his filtered voice drifting through in excited little exhalations.

Still, it takes Akande by surprise when he suddenly comes: body going rigid, one leg kicking out spastically, pussy squeezing down on him for two agonizing seconds before the cyborg squirts, lube pressing out around his cock, and a thinner, more watery version spraying in a forceful arc from him.

Akande doesn’t cease his motions. He throws his head back with a laugh, pearls of sweat flung through the air while the cyborg sags, his low exhausted groan so very audible while Doomfist enjoys how loose and sloppy his body had become.

“Do you think this is the end, Mr. Shimada?” he laughs, nearly losing his rhythm, chest feeling full of mirth. “I haven’t even begun. But your submission is well appreciated.”

It’s not rare that they crash on Robert’s couch after a night out. She doesn’t like going back to Joseph when she feels nice and buzzed, and the world is tilting just that extra little bit that makes her steps sway.

She doesn’t like his vaguely concerned gazes or his deep sighs of … whatever.

What she likes is relaxing with her best friend, his head heavy on her shoulder, unwashed hair tickling her jaw.

“Hey,” she murmurs after a few minutes of silence, listening to his breathing getting deeper. She jerks her shoulder a bit when he doesn’t react, jostling him. “Hey. You sleeping on me? Getting old?”

He snorts and moves sluggishly, his big hand patting her thigh. “All’s good,” he mumbles, “’m not sleeping…”

A minute ticks by, and she is pretty sure he’s gonna sleep in just a second, but then his hand starts wandering with purpose; rucking her skirt up and sliding underneath. She grunts as his fingertips touch her pussy; the lips swollen and slick beneath the thin, soaked slip. She’s been turned on the whole night – the whole week, and his soft, questing fingers feel damnably good.

She unselfconsciously spreads her knees; sits like a whore as she lets this drunk bastard feel her up. God, but she loves her boy so much. She sighs as he tickles up and down the slick gash, teasing her through her panties, and brings her arm up to card her fingers through his greasy hair.

He needs to take a shower badly, but he’s been in a bad headspace the past days, and Mary knows what her boy Robert needs in those times: a good drinking buddy that has an eye out for him to not stumble into the woods and get lost.

She doesn’t know whether he wants to be an ass and rile her up until she explodes, or whether he genuinely can’t figure out the mechanics of sliding her soaked panties to the side to get at her cunt, but his head is sliding down from her shoulder, nuzzling blearily at her tits through her sensible church-mom sweater, and her focus shifts from her throbbing pussy to her aching tits.

“Come on. You up for some more t’ drink?” she murmurs and pushes him away with some difficulty. He whines. He wants to keep fingering her. He wants to sleep. He probably would love to snore away with a few fingers shoved up her cunt, the bastard.

“Stop whining,” she sighs, rucking up her shirt. “I’m full.”

His protest stops immediately. She can him see blearily eye her tits; big and full in the dark bra she’s wearing. She reaches into one cup and lifts one breast out carefully to rest on top. The nipple is huge and dark and swollen; a thick pacifier just for Robert’s greedy mouth.

He practically falls onto it, not letting her get her other tit out. He presses in close, his lips making sloppy seals around the wide areola once, twice, producing wet gurgling noises as he pulls some trickles of milk – and then finally manages to get it right.

Mary digs her heels against the floor and presses her back father into the couch. Her toes curl in her stockings and her cunt gushes against his unmoving hand as she feels the pressure of him suckling.

“Oh god,” she groans, low and heart felt. She digs both hands in his hair, holding him close to her breast as he moves his jaw gently; pulling with an inexorable steadiness. The suction hurts, bone deep in her guts, making her squirm on the spot while she can feel her clit swelling more.

He is loud while eating; she can hear his greedy gulps, thick and needy as he eats faster than he can probably breathe.

She has to stop him; a thumb pushed into the side of his mouth, breaking the seal he has to push him back and make him breathe. Milk is dripping down the lower swell of her tit, some trickles falling onto her belly; tickling her.

Robert groans, his lips white and shiny with her milk, his eyes dark and gone. Drunk on the thick cream he’s drinking.

“You good?” Mary murmurs, stroking a shivering hand across his hair. He groans low, mouth still pulled to the side by her thumb. He doesn’t even try to dislodge it; just eyes her tits and waits for her to let him back in. Pliable.

She hisses and reaches down; suddenly very adamant to have something up her pussy. She pushes his lax hand away and hooks fingers into the side of her panties, pulling them away; freeing her cunt for his warm, big fingers as she drags him back in – both his hand and his face.

He is uncoordinated and sloppy, but so very eager. His fingers slide without coordination through the mess of her cunt; one time gliding too far back and trying in his drunken stupidity to squeeze into her tight asshole, which… is a nice shock to her system.

“Bastard,” she gasps, and takes his wrist; trying to help him find the way, though it is hard for her to concentrate when his mouth is so very distracting; or the soft noises he makes while eating. Little grunts and slurps, his swallowing sound loud and obscene and sending electricity to her cunt.

Somehow he manages to finally give her a couple fingers; sliding through the ample amount of slick, rubbing rudely against her silky walls; and somehow, too, he manages to glance his thumb against her engorged clit.

It is enough to send her into spasms: cunt clenching and body jerking as she comes hard and sudden; even the fact that she can feel her other breast start to leak through the fabric can’t dampen her euphoria of finally being able to come after being horny for so long.

Robert whines against her, nose buried in the soft flesh of her tit, milky mouth open and panting. Like everything is done now. Like her coming like a freight train once has sated her.

“C’mon, lazy,” she slurs, finally able to free her other breast. “Got two of ‘em y’know…”

He groans and latches on to it immediately.

Her fucked up boy. But goddamn if she wasn’t fucked up as well.

(male titles used for Damien’s genitals)

Robert is a needy puppy; while Betsy snores in front of the fireplace, all fours in the air, her Master is trying so very desperately to get his Master’s attention.

He’s whining, crawling further between Damien’s thighs, nosing at the crotch of his shorts and sniffing at them.

Damien clucks his tongue in reprimand; tilts his book to the side and glances at his puppy from above his glasses.

“Well behaved dogs don’t do that,” he murmurs, but can’t help scratching beneath Robert’s chin. He knows he is too lenient to properly train his pup, but Robert is looking too good on his knees, a pretty bloodred collar around his dark throat.

His eyes are heavy lidded; sensual despite the fact that they clearly stem from sleeplessness.

“I want to finish the chapter,” he tells him sternly, but Robert whines and turns his head, licking against his palm, and… well. Damien has always been weak for puppies.

He sighs and opens his legs farther; laughs breathlessly when he can barely manage to tug the leg of his shorts to the side far enough to expose himself. Robert is there with hot, needy breaths, nosing against the back of his hand and with his tongue already out and lapping.

He is sloppy, drooling liberally, but a hand in his hair, gently tugging at the roots, has him groaning and dropping fast.

He is a messy boy; but a good one. He sucks cock like he’s been born to do it; pouty lips warm and pliable around Damien’s dick; tongue so very cheeky as it flicks against the underside, then cradles it; swollen and plump while Robert looks up at him with adoring, dark eyes.

He whines, and shakes his hips, the perky tail attached to his plug wagging through the air; causing vibrations that make him groan deep in his chest.

“You’re a happy puppy, aren’t you?” Damien sighs, fucking against Robert’s eager tongue; pulling him close with two fists of hair to force his mouth against his cock; make him pay special attention to the needy swell of it.

“Never gonna let you go back to the pound.” His eyes flutter closed behind his glasses, head tilting back, hips fucking up against his puppy’s mouth. “You’re such a sweet boy. So well trained. Your previous owner didn’t know how to treat you right, hmm?”

Robert whines again; a little whimpery and nervous, and when Damien glances down at him, there’s a steep fold between his eyebrows.

“Oh don’t look like that, baby. I know just what my puppy needs when he feels needy…” He rubs a hand across Robert’s dark, freckled back, then tips his chin up with the other hand. His mouth is sticky and wet. A messy boy.

“Go and fetch my harness, puppy. Then I’m going to mount you like you need.”

@robotfvckers prompted Damien/Robert with soft dom Damien and formerly abused sub Robert and I was like ‘yes… it is me brand. good.’

Damien with puppy play will come sometime later today :3c

Edit: Male terms used for Damien’s genitals

Robert is not allowed to drink before coming to Damien’s house, and while he has been very good about that rule, his demeanor makes Damien wonder sometimes anyway.

He moves sluggishly, his eyes blinking slow. He stumbles sometimes.

Robert is nervous and skittish and most of the time looks like he’s about to keel over. Damien has made a point of starting their encounters by cradling Robert’s jaw between his hands and staring at his eyes intently. If Robert knows he does so in order to discretely smell his breath, he has never said so.

He gets his wild, uncombed hair petted after inspection, and is then released to stagger his unsteady way into the lounge.

Robert without alcohol is a wreck; yet he still always comes to him perfectly sober. It hurts to watch him sometimes, though; how he jerks away when he turns and sees Damien holding a blunt butter knife; how his hands shake too hard to take a sip from his tea without spilling it everywhere.

Damien has taken to feeding him, and that works. Works very well, indeed.

“Lie down on the couch, darling,” Damien murmurs, fingertips rubbing along Robert’s jaw, watching him faintly sway on his knees as if following some unseen music.

His large, dark eyes blink up at him mutely, a bit of suspicion in them. Damien smirks. “I want to use your mouth, if that’s alright with you.”

Robert has not shaved in a week-or-so, but he’s not going to push him about it. Babysteps, as they say.

Robert makes a soft sound when he descends on him; high and vulnerable, his hands a bit sweaty as they slide smoothly from Damien’s legs up his ass and up his back as far as possible; the tips dipping beneath the line of Damien’s binder.

“Shush,” Damien murmurs, hands carding through Robert’s hair, staring down intently into his eyes. “You are a good boy. Nothing is going to hurt you.” He lowers himself a bit; watches how Robert’s eyes go a little glassy as he lets him smell him; lets his humid pubes tickle the back of his nose; his swollen cock tap against the tip to make him jerk a bit, then angle his chin up. Greedy. Offering his jaw.

“That’s it,” Damien purrs, carefully seating himself, eyes fluttering closed as Robert’s lips curl around his dick, suckling tentatively. “Holy-” he takes a deep, shuddering breath; feels Robert’s fingertips slip from beneath the binder, his hands slowly trailing back down. Relaxing. Settling in to do his task as he realizes that what has been said is actually happening.

No surprises with this one, Damien reminds himself. This one wants something steady. Something dependable; even if he might not know it himself.

Robert is slow and sluggish in sucking him off, but Damien doesn’t mind. His face looks relaxed beneath him, eyes fluttered shut. Just enjoying the salty taste bursting across his tongue, swollen mouth feeling so delicious against Damien’s needy core.

He wants to hold him down, sometimes; fuck his mouth. Command him to suck so hard until it hurts… but Robert needs something else for now, and that is good as well.

He’s such a good boy. He’d done a double take when Damien had pulled his shirt off, that very first time, but never said anything about it; just taken it in stride – way more interested in getting on his knees and being gently bossed around.

He adores him in his own quiet, brooding way; that much is obvious. Glancing up at him with those dark, needy eyes as one blunt fingertips traces across Damien’s hole; pressing playfully against the tight muscle.

Damien smirks, the fingers in Robert’s hair tightening; pulling a bit more sharply at the roots, until Robert groans drawn out with Damien’s cock pressed swollen against his tongue.

“Cheeky boy,” Damien whispers, hips moving gently, dragging his dick across that hot, messy mouth. “Maybe some other day. I think I want to fuck you tonight…”

Damien listens to him whimper, high and pathetic, fingers digging into Damien’s thighs as he gets to work with a renewed vigor that sizzles up his spine in hot, delirious bursts.

He lets his head fall back, dark hair cascading down, tickling the small of his back.

The night is still young.

GOD YES Hugo would 100% be a pit sniffer, he loves the stink. he’s a wrestle boy there is no way he hasn’t fantasized about being pinned down, face stuffed directly into some guys sweatsoaked jockstrap crotch. He’s probably jerked it countless times thinking about being stuck between Brian and Craig after theyve worked out and spent all day landscaping

Even for someone as jovial and nonthreatening as Craig, it had taken Hugo the better part of four dates to finally show him the room. He’d stood to the side, trying to keep composure, and not start to nervously tug at the corner of his mustache as he watched Craig survey the entirety of his little kingdom.

He should have known that Craig, of all people, would be into it, but it still had come as a tremendous relief.

“Thought you might be into some stuff like that, bro! Wow… look at that collector’s edition figure of Pablo Escobrawl, dude!!”

And as pleasant as the night had continued – Craig’s statement wouldn’t leave his mind.

Thought you might be into some stuff like that, bro.

…

“What did you mean by that?” Hugo asks apropos nothing, sitting to the side in Craig’s little workout room. He’s out of breath after jogging on the treadmill and decided to take a little break while watching Craig pull himself up with a bar repeatedly.

“What do you mean, bro?”

He sounds out of breath. He’s been at it longer than Hugo before he could make himself crawl out of bed on a Sunday; but the promise of this… of seeing Craig in all his sweaty glory… it is usually enough to drag him out.

“Ah, uhm…” he realizes suddenly that of course Craig wouldn’t have a clue what he’s been obsessing about for the better part of a week, and quickly pulls off his glasses, cleaning them while feeling himself blush. “I meant… back in my… my room. You said you thought I might be into some stuff like that.”

“Ah. That.”

He hears a soft grunt and pushes his glasses back onto his nose, peering up. Craig has let go of the bar and is now idly wiping his brow with a towel.

“Just… saw you looking at me a lot during workouts. Thought you might like some sports…”

Hugo’s face was aflame, eyes jerking through the room, trying to find anything to occupy himself with. “You… ah… I… I’m sorry if I…”

“Nah, dude. All’s well. Don’t worry, I think it’s flattering. Not everybody likes to hang in a tiny room that reeks of workout. Takes a special kinda man to appreciate the hard work, dude.”

Hugo watches him amble closer. His gaze is fixed on the dark patch of hair beneath Craig’s arm; then travels down towards his crotch, where his cock has left a distinct line of sweat against the material.

“Well,” he murmurs, flustered; he has no idea what Craig has been talking about. “Well, yes… that is certainly…”

Craig is coming closer, and then he is really close, his big hands lying in the back of Hugo’s neck, idly playing with the sweaty hair there; too short to be put into the tiny bun he has wrangled some in, too long to be entirely comfortable during a long workout.

Craig is smirking down at him. Hugo feels like he missed a vital part of the conversation.

He blinks sluggishly.

“Wait… what? I…”

Craig’s smirk morphs into a smile; jovial as the rest of him as he suddenly lifts his leg and braces his foot against the edge of the bank Hugo is sitting on. The big hands playing with his sweaty hair are putting gentle pressure against the back of his head: coaxing him forward.

“Craig…”

“SShhh… I gotchu, bro.”

Hugo’s face is flaming, his heart hammering almost nauseatingly fast in his chest.

He lets Craig guide him forward, the sharp, salty smell of his sweaty junk reaching him long before his face gets pressed into the humid, hot space.

He groans, his cock lifting suddenly and dizzyingly against his own bright orange Escobrawl sweatpants.

Craig is crooning at him, his hands a gentle weight against the back of Hugo’s neck. Keeping him pressed against his unwashed cock through the thin fabric of his styler sweats.

“That’s it… you like that, yeah? Nothing wrong with it… damn, bro… ffff…”

He doesn’t let himself swear – has probably not done so since the twins had been born – but he does rock forward gently, dragging his sweatpants cock against Hugo’s panting face.

Hugo squirms, feels Craig immediately let go of him, and just turns his head to the side to pull his glasses out of the way. He is impossibly embarrassed, doesn’t dare to look up at Craig, but he’s also ready to shoot off just from inhaling his thick scent, and he doesn’t want to let go of this.

He clutches at Craig’s cut hips with shaking hands, as he takes a long, audible inhale. Craig hums above him, his hands returning to his head; his shoulders; petting him as Hugo tugs his pants down slowly but surely.

First, he buries his nose in Craig’s pubes; groaning low in his throat at the wetness he can feel against his face; then he slides further down; mouthing at the thick shaft; at the hot, soft swell of his balls.

Craig is not as hairy as Hugo is; he also trims his body hair artfully; his testicles are so naked…

“Hugo…” Craig grunts above him as he finally pops the tip into his mouth, eyes watering from the sharp smell of workout sweat; his own cock drooling against the cotton of his pants.

“Dude… yeah… that’s… d… dang…” He takes a step back, his chest heaving, face for once flushed a dark red as he stares down onto Hugo, mouth still open, drool slicked down the side of his chin, dark eyes a seemingly pure black as he stares up at him adoringly-

and then he’s got a lap full of Craig, heavy and substantial, feeling his cock press against his belly, as he gets led by one hand once more, even though he wouldn’t have needed it this time.

Hugo buries his face in Craig’s pit; feeling the curling wet hair against his cheeks. He gags from the humid stench, but presses in deeper, groaning low in his throat while Craig rocks against him, fucking his cock against the soft fabric of Hugo’s shirt as he holds his arm up; letting him mash his face into the sweaty pit.

“That’s… that’s so hot,” he whispers next to Hugo’s ear. He sounds breathless and into it, and Hugo can’t believe his luck…

“Wanna wrestle with you someday, bro. Think it’s gonna be hot as… hot as heck. Let you sniff me afterwards when we’ve gotten our sweat on.”

Hugo whines, high and pathetic, hands clutching at the back of Craig’s tanktop. He can’t believe his luck. He can’t believe…

They make the most delightful little sounds when they’re nose deep in the other’s crack.

Gabriel leans far back in his chair, fist clenched around the squat glass of liquor, eyes shining feverishly as he watches Jesse and Hanzo squirm for him on the ground.

Jesse is grunting softly as he buries himself deeper, arms hugging around Hanzo’s waist like a vice. Afraid he’ll get his treat taken away before he’s licked all of Gabriel’s cream from the sloppy hole.

Hanzo is a beast more often than not – his fear is well grounded. He can’t fool him for it.

Hanzo is more quiet; more reserved in expressing his greed, but not less eager for it. He is eating Jesse like a champ, pale hands on his brown cheeks, pulling them apart, buried in the hairy crack of the cowboy’s ass.

He likes it down there. Loves it, even. He’d never admit to it, but it is apparent in the way he sighs every now and then, eyes closed, lashes a dark, adoring whisper against his high, sharp cheek bones.

If Gabriel leans to the side just right, he can see a slip of pink tongue every now and then; delving deep into the loose, warm hole. He can just imagine it; dragging along the swollen walls. Tasting Gabriel’s cock as it had rubbed along them not ten minutes ago.

Jesse is wheezing softly, squirming beneath Hanzo’s weight. Hanzo is unapologetic about lying down on him, making him bear all of him. Their bellies are squished together, their cocks snuggled against throats; hard and weeping and ignored in favor of the real treat.

So hungry for Gabriel’s cock, they take everything they can get.

Jesse had been almost weepy as he realized Hanzo got the main attraction for the night; their hips pressed together, asses up almost comically high – trying to entice him with the dark gapes of their cunts.

He’s fucked them both at once; holding the other over with thick fingers jammed up that greedy, suckling space before pulling out and replacing them with his dick for a few deep, self-indulgent thrusts.

Despite his earlier whining, Jesse looks happy now. He’s gotten what he wanted after all, and Gabriel suspects it might be his favorite to taste anyway. He’s not as greedy to get his belly warmed as Hanzo is; always vying for a fuck; always begging with his eyes and the presentation of his pretty tits.

Jesse is calmer; more mellowed but equally greedy.

Gabriel can rarely keep up with them.

He sips from his glass, cock still out and wet, watching them lick each other’s ass out, trying to one-up the other. Be better, quicker, smarter.

He can see Hanzo’s hand start to inch towards Jesse’s heavy balls. Hanzo has always been a cheater, and none of them had yet been able to train it out of him. They enjoy it too much anyway.

Gabriel lets his head fall back against the headrest, staring blearily at the ceiling as he watches to their messy, wet sounds. Jesse’s grunting and Hanzo’s soft little panting.

Sometimes he can’t believe what a goddamn lucky man he is.

For the anon that wanted doomfist publicly humiliating someone, what about reaper… But in front of Jesse who reaper has been domming tf out of for months so it adds to his humiliation for Jesse too see him like that but he can’t help holding his cheeks open for Akande’s fingers or dick begging so sweetly for it, in front of a room full of people

Anonymous said: “Just thinking about Gabe being all bitchy when trying to sub until Doomfist just gets fet up and grabs Gabe’s balls and gives them a nice long squeeze. Suddenly, Gabe is a lot more cooperative.”

He’s been on his better behavior the past weeks, but this time around there’s a distinct restlessness to be felt. He doesn’t want to lie still, doesn’t want to stop growling, doesn’t listen – and Akande’s only explanation for it is the new pair of eyes on him; Jesse McCree’s mouth dropped open as he stars, cheeks a dull brick red beneath his scruff.

Gabriel had been docile enough with just Widowmaker and Sombra around to watch his degradation – he had learned to accept their gazes on him; one cool and disinterested in his pained little grunts as he got deep dicked, the other very much gloating and intrigued.

The new set of eyes, however, makes him skittish like a young horse; even Akande’s rough, big hand harshly at the back of his neck doesn’t make him stop squirming, and complaining.

“Not in front of the ingrate,” he hisses, voice hoarse, ass clenching; squeezing down, trying to force the meaty cock out of the clinging passage after Akande had so much trouble cramming it in there.

McCree’s dark eyes flinch at the insult, but he wisely keeps quiet; his arms are cuffed behind his back; his jeans are tenting prominently beneath the heavy buckle of his belt.

He is more than interested in the proceedings, even standing between his two captors. Widow looks annoyed, her sharp nails drumming against the desk just centimeters from Reaper’s head. She wants to get the report over with, dump the cowboy in a cell and go do whatever she does for leisure.

“You’re not in charge here,” Akande reminds him mildly. He angles his hips forward, tries to press more into the spasming, tight ring of muscle. It does not quite work. He roughly takes Gabriel’s hands and yanks them back; places them on the generous, meaty cheeks of his fat ass.

“Spread.”

Gabriel snarls like an animal. He does not as he is told, and his eyes are fixated on McCree like he wants to rip his eyes out for looking. Akande feels like there is something going on here that he is not quite privy of – but he will find out soon enough. After he’s shown Gabriel who has the upper hand.

It is not difficult to let his hand jerk down below, fingers curling mean and harsh around the heavy, swinging sac of his testicles, but the reaction is instantaneous and gratifying: Gabriel choking on his won spit and going stock still, back arched, insides trembling.

Sombra cackles.

“Bull doesn’t like to be grabbed by the balls, hm?” she coos, but a gaze from Akande makes her shut up quickly, the gloating grin vanishing from her face. She looks away. A pack member acknowledging the leader’s dominance.

McCree is still staring, eyes glassy, pants tenting. Akande thinks he can almost see a wet patch forming in the front.

He squeezes the warm weight in his fist and pulls. Gabriel whines high and pathetic before he can tamp down on it. He goes up to the balls of his feet, then very quickly reverts, hips dipping, hunching down, trying to follow the mean pull on his heavy, plump sac.

Akande keeps pulling, dick inside the clenching hole, but not satisfied with the depth yet; there is a lot left out that he could still cram inside.

“I said spread. Or I’m gonna see what I can do to those big balls you’re so proud of.”

There’s not another peep of protest as Gabriel scrambles to grab his ass, spreading it open; making the swollen rim of his hole stretch around Akande’s cock for him to start fucking inside deeper.

“Good boy,” Akande murmurs, finally letting go of his testicles and patting his leg like he would a dog’s head.

His dark eyes lift to McCree’s vacant face, a smug smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Very well. I’ve not gotten to welcome our newest guest yet…”

kinkyarkhive replied to your post:
Please write some stuff with male lactation!!

R76 ! It’s been ages since you did them :“)

oh man you’re right, it has def been ages :O goddamn.

“Damn. Look at you. You been training?”

Reaper keeps close, dick pulsing inside the tight clutch, cum cooling on Soldier’s belly. It’s a short lull in their fucking; a rare sight of mercy as he lets the old man calm down and catch his breath.

He can feel his pulse around his cock slowing down from the frantic gallop, insides still hot and wet and suckling as they relax a bit from their death grip.

What really has him interested is the sight of the Soldier’s tits, though. Meaty with muscle; bulging… plump, the faint pink nipples wet at the tips.

He remembers, somewhere in the back of his head, how they had been back in the day… always horny, always needy; how he’s been fixated on Jack’s tits then, even thicker as he’s been young; straining against his shirts. How he joked about having to get him a goddamn bra.

How he loved watching them bounce, and suckle on their tight tips.

Back then, he had fantasized about it; suckling for long enough that Jack’s body would respond; produce some milk for him.

And now he wonders whether Jack hadn’t secretly thought the same; hadn’t kept on training even with Gabriel seemingly dead.

The Soldier doesn’t answer. It is difficult to make out any kind of expression beneath his visor and mask. He turns his head away, grip tightening on Reaper’s shoulder and the side of his neck.

Gabriel turns his head, impatiently pushes his mask up against his shoulder until his mouth is freed.

“You’re a goddamn slut,” he hisses at him, cock surging within the tight, comfortable grip of Soldier’s body. He bares his teeth at him; lets him see the sharp fangs; and notices how a little more milk dribbles from the peaks of his tits.

He leans down, hips starting up a slow, swaying motion. He talks a big game, but he is gentle; almost making love to his old enemy as he latches on, eyes closing in bliss.

If Soldier notices it, he doesn’t say. He grunts low, and arcs his back; shoves his teat against Reaper’s mouth. The thought of Jack being his personal milk cow sends a jolt of arousal down his spine. His cock flexes again.

He fucks slow, trying not to loose the tight seal he has going on. He drinks in sharp pulls, trying to get as much milk as possible; though there is not much coming forth. The watery drops make him only hungrier.

He wonders if the Soldier’s body would produce more for him if he started nursing more often; more regularly. The thought makes him curl inwards a bit, belly tight, almost coming way too fast like a goddamn teen.

Jack’s tits had always been his downfall.

I need blackwatch Mccree getting his sweet pussy pounded till he squirts. Please.

McCree’s hairy cunt T.T *sob* yes

Jesse likes letting Genji fuck him. Genji is intense and scary; he fucks like a man possessed, half-cybernetic body a furnace above or behind Jesse, metal growing warm to the point of burning where it touches his skin.

He is silent and a little mean, and Jesse loves it. It gets him going; makes his nipples feel tight and tingly and his cunt clench and gush.

He works to get Genji’s scarred cock; spreads his legs, and his labia just for him; cards the tangle of wild pubes away to show him the tender, dark red insides. Stems his heels into the mattress and lifts his ass up off the ground just to offer it up – show him how wet and sticky he already is just from the thought of getting grunt fucked by the silent assassin.

Jesse can’t put his finger on why he loves it, but he does. He loves watching Genji’s eyes glow a hot red when he really gets into it, eyebrows drawn together in intense concentration when he pounds his cunt, grunting low and staticky through the muzzle.

Genji is a bit mean while fucking; will pinch Jesse’s tits or tug on his chest hair a little too hard; a little too sharp to be comfortable, making Jesse wince and whine – but his cunt loves the treatment; gushes dutifully around the thick shaft spreading it, clit swelling up just that little bit more; becoming plump and sensitive, and so very very ready.

Maybe he loves it because Genji is a loose cannon. He can see it in the slant of his eyebrows, the set of his shoulders; how he is yanking his own leash, trying to restrain himself, trying not to seriously hurt.

Or maybe he just loves to give Genji some form of softness in his life; let him have the silky gape of his cunt, the ripe swell of his clit to test the feeling of his calloused fingertips against to make Jesse squirm and whine. Something tangible; something to loose himself in.

In any case, he loves getting dicked by the guy. He can’t get enough of it; can’t stop loving how Genji grunts in disgust when Jesse opens his thick, hairy thighs but crawls eagerly between them all the same. Loves how he can almost feel some of the scars on his dick, rubbing along his swollen, spongy walls.

Loves how Genji will look at him but not really see him while he dicks him; hard and deep, contorting Jesse until tears spring into his eyes from the dull, bone deep pain of feeling Genji almost kiss up to his womb… how it makes his toes tingle and his clit pulse without anybody touching it, everything in his body drawing up tight and needy, bladder feeling heavy, like he will loose control over all bodily functions –

and then he will lose control, groaning through a blissed grin, hips jittery and jerking as Genji keeps plowing on, not caring about the hot spray from his cunt as Jesse squirts and whines, trying to squirm away from the over stimulation and getting pinned rudely; made to sit it out so Genji can fill him up deep where he’ll be carrying it around with him for a couple more hours.

omega lucio always being too busy to properly enjoy his heats, dealing w/ concerts, interviews and meetings: he goes into heat on base but is miserable with all the alphas around and he cant take a break. akande gets lucio’s manager to give him a little break, then shows lucio how an omega should spend their heat; by the end of the day, lucio is sprawled in his first nest, getting deep dicked so hard by akande he cant even remember what he was working on

Lúcio is scrabbling at the pillows and blankets surrounding him, blunt nails scratching across the soft rug underneath, trying to drag himself away from the immense feeling of fullness.

Akande laughs, then stills and drags a hand slowly down the omega’s sweaty back. Calming him as he finally manages to drag one of the pillows against his chest and hug it tight, breathing rapid and heartbeat fluttering so fast, Akande can feel it in the plush walls hugging his cock.

“No need for this. Calm,” he murmurs, ranging above the omega, watching how the slender back of his neck is basically glowing a dull red. “You needn’t do anything but relax.”

And then, after a second of contemplation, he adds with a faint, ironic smirk: “And lift your pretty cunt in the air so I can have better access…”

Lúcio groans into the bedding of his nest, walls clenching tight and squelching around the big Alpha cock. He does lift up higher, though; gathers his knees beneath him and angles his ass; hole fucked soft and pliant, gaping open a little bit more around the insane stretch of the cock filling him. His body is so very easy for the mounting; so unused to getting what it needs during heat that it’s almost clumsy in its need to provide; overwhelming the boy.

“That’s it,” Akande croons, bending down and hooking one massive arm around the kid’s hips; lifting him up even higher; practically pulling him onto his cock. His insides are wet and suckling; squelching obscenely but also so very gratifyingly as he begins moving in small thrusts; guiding Lúcio to get speared on Alpha cock.

He scrabbles again, cries out hoarse and in vague alarm, but when Akande leans above him, easily blanketing his body, wanting to watch his face if he is unhappy with the proceedings, the young man kisses him messy and wet; uncoordinated in his need, then butting his head submissively against the Alpha’s jaw; taking a few harmless nips at the soft underside of Akande’s chin, all the while getting speared by cock.

So sweet and overwhelmed from getting treated right.