feminization? genji. lil cyborg ninja in cute lacy lingerie and his top (jesse? reyes?) telling him how soft and wet his pussy is,,,, /sweating

“Easy, kid. Calm down.” Gabriel takes his hand from between Genji’s legs, bearing the cyborg’s weight as Genji’s heels dig into the bedding and he arches his spine impossibly.

He is hot to the touch; almost scalding where his metal parts press into Gabriel’s skin. He sobs, knees falling apart, tilting up his pelvis: offering his cunt for more; hoping Gabriel would put his big, rough hand back, cup the sticky mess between his thighs, let him come…

Genji’s voice is frayed with static, vents softly hissing as he tries to cool down.

Gabriel watches quietly, staring down the cyborg’s torso; pretty creamy-green panties so very much at odds with his artificially put-together limbs. He can just about see the dark, damp patch across his pubic mound.

“Such a sensitive little cunt you got, hm?”

Genji turns his head away, pressing his face against Gabriel’s shoulder. He doesn’t want to hear about how messy his body is, bus when one of Gabriel’s broad, blunt fingertips carefully tickles along the gash he can feel beneath the soaked fabric, Genji convulses again, lifting up into the touch immediately.

“Nobody has played with your pretty peach… what a waste.” Gabriel presses slow, self-indulgent kisses against Genji’s temple, using two fingers now to rub slowly along the swell of silicone lips.

His panties are clinging like wet silk, making it so very easy to spread his labia beneath them; let Gabriel find the swollen nub of his clit easily without having to get the pretty panties off just yet.

“Look how sensitive you are for me. Little girly-girl loves getting her cunt played with, hmm?” It is a little cruel, maybe. Genji hiccups in a mix of frustration and heartbreak, his knees shaking as he fights against his body’s need to sluttishly present.

“Hush, now. Hush. You’re doing so well. You want to come? Wanna show me how pretty you are when I rub you to orgasm?” Genji makes a low sound, voice glitching mildly, fingernails digging into the thick arm Gabriel has curled across his chest.

He slips the panties to the side, fingers sliding in the artificial slick, feeling how hot and silky Genji’s cunt feels.

He can only imagine how good it would be around his cock; stretched tight around the girth; Genji vibrating out of his skin. Next time, maybe. For now, he wants to see whether he can make the cyborg squirt.

re: that one ask about pup-mccree having a little accident — what about pupcree who submissive pees when he gets excited? he just cant help himself. he’s not even out of his people clothes when hanzo breaks out the collar and leash and he’s just too excited to play with his master that he rolls onto his back at hanzo’s feet and wets himself (hanzo thinks it’s cute, cooing humiliating puppy talk while groping mccree’s wet, hard crotch, letting him hump frantically into his soggy drawers)

cyberrat:

oooohhh shit. OOOOHHHH SHIIIIEEETTTT

that’s my goddamn jam right there. that’s such a hot concept. I loooove submissive wetting; but puppy McCree being so excited he can’t help but piss is so good????? fuck… and Hanzo being all into that. probs leashing McCree and curling it a few times around his fist while letting him hump up into his hand.

Jesse showing his belly is so good…

His eyes are already docile and warm when Hanzo turns around and presents him with the collar. Jesse never has problems getting into the mindset but this time it seems to have happened like flipping a switch: one moment he is calm, albeit exhausted from training – the next he is puppy eager, focused solely on the supple length of leather in Hanzo’s palms.

He practically falls unto all fours, looking up at Hanzo with a look of utter adoration.

“There’s a good boy,” Hanzo murmurs. When he steps close, Jesse rolls onto his back, whining. Eager. Hanzo’s lips curl into an amused half-smirk.

“Not so quick. We still need to get you out… of…” He trails off, halting mid-stride eyes zeroing in on the dark patch rapidly spreading in Jesse’s crotch.

Jesse is panting fast and eager, body squirming faintly with his big hands at his shoulders and his legs tucked up, knees against his ribs. He whines at Hanzo’s perplexed scrutiny. The fabric of his jeans seems to be oversaturated; a thick stream of his piss emerges in a small arc, the liquid gathering in a warm puddle beneath his ass.

Finally, Hanzo finds his voice once more, hand curled in a tight fist around the collar as he steps closer and sinks down onto his knees – Jesse lifting his chin and showing off his throat.

“You’ve been that eager to play, hm? What an eager puppy… I think we’ll have to housetrain you again…

I tried writing A/B/O but I’m still bad at it södflkjasdflajfb practice makes perfect and all that jazz… it’s also not quite what I wanted to write in the first place

~~I wanted there to be a lot more non-con breeding fantasy for Jesse~~

Jesse had just wanted to… he doesn’t know what he had wanted to. Maybe check up on his boss; just make sure everything was alright. Be a nuisance until he got so deeply under Gabriel’s skin that he got wrestled to the ground again and have all of that heavy, fragrant body pressed to his back.

Something like that. He had forgotten about his vague original plan the moment he had set foot into his boss’ rooms and caught sight of him on his bed; naked and sweating and just on the fine edge between looking fucked out and in unimaginable pain.

“Oh fuck,” Jesse murmured against his palm, hand cupping his mouth, feeling the rough bristles of his beard (the one he started to let purposefully go out of bounds because his team mates were constantly teasing him about trying to look like his idol Reyes).

Reyes was half on his side, one leg pulled up to give himself room to work his fingers into his slick hole, but he didn’t look like an Omega that had a damn good time; he looked like a big, rough, battle hardened warrior that was close to breaking down into tears; eyes open but hazy and dull; belly fluttering in the quick, pumping breaths of an animal in pain.

“Boss?” Jesse asks softly, voice rough and cracking. He takes a wobbling step closer.

.o.

Jesse has a nice cock; long and thick with an ample bush for anybody to get lost in if they wanted to nuzzle into it – but still, it was sleek, and when his boss sees it, he throws his head like an agitated stallion, a fine spray of sweat droplets fanning out from the motion.

He grunts – whimpers – but still struggles up onto his knees, angling his ass up into the air; bowing his back until it looked painful. Offering himself up. Presenting.

His hole is a dark, secret space between his cheeks, beckoning Jesse closer until he can’t help but crawl over him, heart pounding in his chest fast enough to make him nauseous.

He’s only been with an Omega once, and they had been out of heat – and Jesse thinks he has to watch out otherwise Reyes will rip his dick off and use it as a toy until he can prowl down an Alpha that can help him the way he wants.

Jesse noses at the nape of Reyes’ neck and receives a harsh growl as reward. He rears back immediately, chastised; cock nudging against the dripping, feverishly hot hole. Sinking into Reyes is like fucking into liquid iron; he almost thinks it must have to hurt; that he should be howling, but all he does is grunt way back in his throat, lifting onto the balls of his feet – really climbing up onto Reyes’ ass to breed him like a dog on the sidewalk-

Breed.

Jesse’s mind stumbles across the word, trips him up enough that he forgets to fuck for a second, until Reyes yowls beneath him, his whole body shivering in the throes of his passion-pain.

Jesse’s brow furrows, his hips going loose and warm; starting up a shallow rhythm that is designed not to leave Reyes’ body for more than a couple inches.

The Omega seems happy with it; almost purrs, stretching, the stone-hard clench of his belly softening ever so slightly beneath Jesse’s pawing, sweating hand.

Breeding. He’s going to breed Reyes. Nevermind that it is not possible; that both of them are on contraception – he’s going to breed his Omega commander up; get him fat with his young so everybody can see.

He’s gonna fuck him deep and good until he can deposit his cream right where it’s needed; where Reyes’ body can start working with it.

He doesn’t word any of those thoughts; head still carefully held to the side, not trying to flirt out a bite again.

He’s helplessly submissive to the Omega, but a Beta can still dream…

Roadhog isn’t looking where she wants him to – at her, to be precise – so she frames his face in her hands, sharp fingernails digging almost gently into the generous fat beneath his chin.

It’s not meant to hurt; simply lead him with small pinpoints of pressure to tilt his nose up, his dark eyes staring into her face. He is mute, as he usually is, but his face is relaxed; almost slack.

He isn’t fighting against her ropes, and she likes the sight of him trussed up more than she would have thought. Even sitting on his ass – kneeling was out of the question; it did nothing good to his joints for as long as she liked to play with him – he was as tall as her.

“Just look at you,” she coos, voice high, nearly baby talking this big, silent man. His chest, unlike his large, firm belly, is soft and framed by the rope; pretty tits for her to play with in just a moment; squeeze his big nipples and make him grunt low and breathless.

“My pretty boy,” DVa murmurs. She lets go of his face but he stays as she put him, watching her with docile, dark eyes. She rubs her small hands across his big, round shoulders, gently squeezing at his massive biceps.

She suspects he would be able to get out of her bindings if he really wanted to, and the fact that he does not, makes her wet and needy. She squeezes her thighs together as she strokes trembling fingers across the pink rope she got just for this occasion, hooking her fingers in and tugging on it just to feel how tight it is on him; how nicely held together her sub is.

“Such a good boy for me. God, I can’t wait to play with you. Just you sit tight, Mommy’s gonna get her favorite playthings just for her gorgeous little toy.”

Hhhh we need more hog wrecking little dva’s body

“NNuh…nn..ngh…?” DVa’s hands are restless and weak, blindly petting along her impossibly spread thighs and down to Roadhog’s massive legs. She tries to stem herself up with a weak, pathetic effort but his large hands around her hips keep her down effortlessly.

He is lodged up deep inside her, every involuntary twitch of his fat cock prompting more unintelligible babble to ooze from her throat. She looks dumbfounded, soft brown eyes wide open, mouth gaping; fucked stupid even though he hasn’t even started dicking her – and didn’t look like he was going to start any time soon.

Hog is comfortably lounging, looking almost sleepy; sitting on a throne with a little cocksleeve warming his dick.

DVa’s labia, plump and rosy, are spread impossibly wide around his girth; her clit a swollen jewel sitting atop.

It is easy for his fat finger to find it; wide tip unerringly nudging against the nub, primed and ready, positively quivering – and DVa cries out, rough and sharp like a bird, small hands flying to his wrist, sharp fingernails digging into the meat; holding on, head dropping forward, chin to chest, staring between her flushed, heaving tits and down her soft, shivering belly to what is happening.

He is motionless, other than his finger; surprisingly gentle, surprisingly agile as it draws slow, careful circles around the tight, swollen skin of her clit – until DVa can feel her heartbeat centered in that one spot; quick and fluttering and making her feel nearly nauseous.

She is grunting; low animalistic sounds as she is held immobile atop him and can only witness him playing with her – finger lifting, then falling down with measured ease; tapping calculated and just this side of hard atop her swollen clit.

DVa jerks, gurgles, nipples going tight and painful. She claws at his arm but he doesn’t react; like he isn’t feeling the dark red marks springing up along his flesh.

He keeps at it, slow, torturous, circling, nudging, tapping, stringing DVa higher and higher, her cunt spread so wide around his cock, lodged deep, skirting – flirting – with the dull, deep pain that is the wide tip of his cock pushing against her uterus. It feels like he is just scant millimeters away from it; from kissing up to it and making her hurt and tingle, and she can’t decide where to focus on.

Something is building inside her body. It is tingling in her toes and the tips of her fingers and the painfully swollen peaks of her nipples. Her cunt and belly feel so full she is certain she should look pregnant with his cock. Her bladder feels fit to bursting.

Hog keeps nudging her clit, rubbing it, plucking it – and suddenly she isn’t sure she can trust her body any longer.

She gurgles, hips jerking, pushing down that little bit more involuntarily, pain blooming in her belly and bursting behind her eyelids as his fat dick presses in deeper …

And the sensation warps, twists, mixes with his thumb and forefinger, so huge and blunt and rough, delicately squeezing at the fat, plump mound of her clit, and DVa is coming, jerking atop his lap, feeling like her legs would dislodge if his meaty hand wasn’t keeping her safely pressed down –

and DVa watches, dumbfounded, shaking as her cunt sprays, a fine rain squirting out of her forcefully, her body heating up in excited shame – and she almost comes a second time when he hears his deep, wheezing chuckle next to her ear.

The boss is taking shuddering gulps of air with every small nudge that Jesse pushes his fingers in deeper. He honestly sounds close to a panic attack, but every time Jesse halts, his other hand slowly petting along one of Gabriel’s thick thighs, the man gets ridiculously stubborn, growling and trying to fuck himself back despite the obvious weakness in his knees.

“Nothin’ has happened yet,” Jesse murmurs, a toothpick clenched delicately between his teeth. “Just relax.”

“Move your fucking fingers,” Gabriel snaps back, voice hoarse, insides quivering around the three thick fingers McCree has him spread on.

Just a few years ago, Jesse would have responded with spite; maybe twisting his fingers apart and against the desperate clench of Gabriel’s rim just to make him hurt.

Now, years later and a few pounds heavier, he just hums and turns his wrist; fingers rubbing lovingly against those soft, slick insides.

He slowly pulls out, then, eyes watching the soft gape of his boss’ hole; the dark red insides of his intestines before it tries to clench down. Gabriel is breathing deeply, head falling down between his bracing elbows; probably staring along his heaving belly and the undecided, halfhard swing of his dick.

“Ready for more?” Jesse asks slowly, barely moving his lips. He doesn’t want to loose the toothpick.

He has prepared himself earlier; meticulously clipping down the nails on his right hand; washing it vigorously before coming in. Now it feels strangely cold without Gabriel’s warm body hugging him.

While Gabriel growls abuse at him, sounding weak and wrecked already, he slicks his hand up anew, and puts the three fingers from earlier to the rim. They slide in easily; gliding slow and satisfying into his boss’ body – until his pinky meets the soft rim and Gabriel tenses up, shoulders hunching, breath stalling.

“Easy, now.” Jesse rubs his dry hand along Gabriel’s back, eyes fixed on his ass, brows drawn low in concentration as he twists his wrist and pushes, and twists and pushes.. gently… insistently…

And suddenly Gabriel whines, punched out and broken right in the back of his throat and Jesse can slide in; slow rocking motions that bring him farther in bit by bit.

His mouth is hanging open, toothpick clenched between two teeth on his lower jaw. He can’t believe Gabriel is taking four of his fingers.

He can’t believe he’ll be taking even more.

Gabriel is shaking the deeper it gets; the wider the stretch becomes as they leave the minimal intrusion of Jesse’s fingers tightly pushed together, and enter the wider part leading to his knuckles.

Jesse can feel sweat prickling on the back of his neck. His mouth goes dry.

“Ho, there,” he murmurs, hand heavy on the small of Gabriel’s back. He is talking to him like he would to a horse, but Gabriel seems too far gone to notice anything trivial like that.

Jesse moves slowly, fucks him carefully on four fingers, just shy of pushing his thick knuckles through, and Gabriel’s knees start slipping apart, the tension slowly seeping from his body as he whines long and ridiculously high.

Jesse has to move; putting his own knees to support his boss as he lets him get used to the thought of this – and then suddenly pushes in deeper… not with a jerk but with gentle determination –

and Gabriel cries out but just like that, Jesse’s knuckles have popped in and his goddamn fucking palm is inside his boss; he can feel him hot and quivering around his hand and Gabriel is making sounds like he is losing his goddamn mind – like he has already lost it and Jesse McCree is literally fucking him stupid…

Jesse doesn’t dare to pull out fully once more. He fumbles with his other hand for the lube and squirts a mess half on and half off his hand. Gabriel is very still now – his shoulders and cheek are on the bed. He is sweating, brown skin gleaming velvety in the light Jesse has kept on so he’d be able to see everything he was doing.

Gabriel had not been happy about it, but – “I’m gonna stick my goddamn fist up your ass, boss. I wanna see what I’m doin’.”

“That’s it. Just relax for me. It’s over soon. We’re almost there.” He’s keeping up a low, crooning babble of encouragement but he’s not sure how much even registers with Gabriel.

He carefully pulls back, letting his knuckles pop out (Gabriel jerks and gurgles into the comforter), and tucks his thumb into his palm tightly. Everything is slick with lube; generously so.

Jesse can’t stop staring at his own wrist. It is thick and hairy and soon Gabriel will-

He presses in carefully.

Gabriel takes it, grunting at the knuckles, not yet feeling the new addition that Jesse is carefully slipping in – but oh he does feel it when they move farther… when his rim slides against the swell at the ball of Jesse’s thumb.

Jesse can see his toes moving in his periphery; curling and uncurling along with his fingers; kneading the bedspread like a kitten, quiet and docile as he gets spread open on Jesse’s hand.

It is not difficult to manipulate the rest of it inside; to have the buttery soft muscle wrapped around that thick, hairy wrist he’s been staring at moments earlier.

His whole hand is so very warm.

“I can feel your heartbeat,” he croaks because he can just not say it. It is like he is holding Gabriel’s heart in his palm; quick and fluttery as his inner muscles bear down on him – not as hard as Jesse thought they would… more like a curious squeeze; a flutter and then a quick capitulation as Gabriel’s whole body just gives it up for Jesse.

“I’m gonna,” he rasps, then stops. Swallows. Clears his throat. “I’m gonna make a fist now, ok?”

Gabriel groans low and heartfelt. His cock is no longer indecisive; it is hard and swinging between his thighs even as this very temperamental man looks to be almost catatonic; seemingly dumbfounded by his own daring.

Jesse carefully, starts bending his fingers.

He is inside his boss.

He has his whole hand inside his boss.

It’d be so easy to pump fuck him now; fuck him on his arm…

“So hot, boss,” Jesse mumbles, leans down, presses a sloppy kiss against Gabriel’s ass cheek after spitting the toothpick to the side. “So fucking hot.”

I asked @naughtygenji if I could write a little something accompanying their hot comic of Sentaiman and cop!McCree fucking ❤

While Sentai did help… sometimes… he more often than not was a nuisance; interfering with police work and making them look stupid in front of the press and general public with his posing and his thumbs up and his jaunty speeches.

McCree had been tasked with catching him an eternity ago, yet it seemed like for some reason Sentai always slipped his grasp.

“If I suck you off… Would you let me go?” Sentai grins at him, the metal usually hiding his mouth having retracted beneath the gaudy bright green V of head guard. He is drooling already, tongue out and swiping distractingly across the pout of his lips.

They are flushed and swollen; he’s been at it for a while already; must have thought of something cheeky to say the whole time while getting distracted by McCree’s cock, thick and long and invasive as he tried so very hard to stuff it down his throat.

McCree snorts. He carefully stretches his long legs and leans back against the water tank of the toilet. They are in one of the public restrooms in the park; and it is risky, it’s the middle of the goddamn day, but it is hard to concentrate when Sentai is so very willing to let himself get throat fucked. McCree is guiding his head with one hand; pushes him down until he is gurgling wet and desperate around his cock.

McCree imagines Sentai’s eyes had to be tearing up beneath the mask; his nose running. How he had to be losing all control over his bodily functions.

“Let you go? Never.”

Though he had let him go already. Time and time again after encounters much as this one. It is, as everything with Sentai has always been, a game.

.o.

He fucks him across the toilet. It is dirty and unsanitary, but McCree likes how he can deep dick the superhero like a cheap whore he found on the street.

His black spandex is ripped across the round, generous – fat – cheeks of his ass. Sentai doesn’t only behave like a slut – he dresses like one, too.

McCree has started getting hard just watching interviews with him. Seeing the small codpiece he was wearing, disappearing between his ass cheeks; remembering how ridiculous it looked stretched across the slutty pout of his anus.

He was always swollen and ready these days. Like he prepared himself for McCree’s cock – or maybe he didn’t have the time to heal after each encounter; his rim molded into a perfect glove for the policeman’s fat dick.

Distantly, McCree wonders how Sentai will be able to go around with his spandex suit ripped like it is.

He is fucking him in short bursts, listening to his gurgling groans, the almost pleas to slow down. To gentle down. He likes giving it rough to this man; fuck him until he has to shuffle his feet apart; trying to somehow alleviate the sheer girth spreading him open.

“You’re so deep,” he groans, reaching back, gripping his own ass to spread it wider – inadvertently giving McCree a prime view of his pouting rim, dark red and obscene looking as it his cock slides past it; suckling on his dick and pulling him back in almost desperately.

McCree has never had anybody that is as easy to fuck as Sentai. He is eager to do all the work, hips moving like pistons, working his ass just to make sure McCree would come back time and time again and wouldn’t rob him of the cock that came with him.

Still, McCree likes to play with him.

He roughly grabs one of the sharp points of the V attached to Sentai’s helmet and pulls, hips snapping forward, driving his cock in deep.

“Come on,” he grunts, “Arch a bit more.”

Sentai whines, one hand jerking up halfway as if intending to push McCree’s hand off – and then lowers again. He is wheezing, back arching, knees shivering as they are in an awkward half-bend – everything just to accommodate McCree as much as possible.

His insides are clenching with the new pose as he struggles to maintain it; clinging and soft as the rest of him.

McCree can already feel the orgasm building; clenches his teeth against the feeling, eyebrows lowering – fucking doggedly, almost angrily. He doesn’t want to come yet; he wants to have Sentai on his cock a bit longer; wants to fuck him in a restroom stall across the toilet and hear him gurgle with every sharp thrust because McCree’s cock is as deep as nobody else could ever hope to reach…

He has been wondering about what Sentai might do about the ripped spandex.

He wonders what he’ll do about the ripped spandex covered in ropes of cum.

Sentai grunts when his cock suddenly slips free; he whines high and wobbly but he doesn’t protest the treatment. He would never protest anything McCree does to him; even if it is to jerk off onto the ripped remains of his spandex in broad, thick streaks.

To the contrary: Sentai seems quite thankful for it when he turns around, wobbly, codpiece straining with the erection McCree isn’t doing anything about – and falling around the policeman’s shoulders, offering up his panting mouth for kisses that McCree gives him freely.

As rough as he is while fucking him, McCree can’t help his soft spot for Sentaiman.

“Remember to be a good boy.”

“You know it,” Sentai sighs – almost simpers – and McCree wonders with a smirk what he’ll be like when he’s no longer drunk on getting fucked and realizes the state he’s been left in.

The whore is as eager in bed as he had looked down in the lobby. His dark eyes gleam as he catches sight of McCree’s cock, looking obscene and naked as it is just hanging out of his open jeans. Long and swollen and drooping under its own weight.

The whore slinks closer where he had been fiddling with the pillows on the bed, a slow flush creeping up on his regal cheek bones.

Down in the lobby where all the establishment’s employees had been waiting, this one had caught McCree’s eyes immediately; looking hungry for dick while trying not to seem like it.

The little tag hanging from his collar reads Hanzo and Jesse can’t help playing with it the moment he is close enough, the whore’s fingers going around his cock like he can’t help himself; like he has to feel the silky skin gliding through the loose tunnel of his fist.

This one loved his job – even though he seemed determined to scowl his way through it. Pouting at his own lewd greed.

Jesse smirks, tugs on the name tag, then lets go to scratch fingers through Hanzo’s beard.

“Why don’t you lie down, babydoll. Got somethin’ real nice planned.”

His eyes flick down, contemplating the generous swell of the whore’s tits; displayed proudly between the folds of his loose shirt.

Hanzo seems loath to let go of McCree’s cock. He carefully pinches the soft lip of his foreskin and tugs on it. He looks like he wants to protest, but then he inclines his chin and steps back.

.o.

“Damn… your tits…”

Jesse huffs through his nose, chin on his collar bones, staring down at his own dick slipping through the oiled valley of Hanzo’s chest.

The little bottle is still clutched in McCree’s hand; the liquid warm and fragrant – and he is so very liberal with applying it. He can’t get enough of feeling the slick glide in the snug fold that Hanzo’s pecs create.

The whore has jewelry, too: pretty golden nipple rings that make his tits pout, connected by a dainty chain that is currently draped loosely across the back of Jesse’s cock.

Whenever he fucks forward far enough to dab the wet tip of his dick against Hanzo’s chin, the chain pulls tight against his hips and Hanzo’s mouth drops open, lips wet and dark red.

“Push ‘em together,” Jesse grunts, fingers of the hand not clutching the oil vial coming to one ring to tug. Hanzo makes a soft breathless sound at that; tries to twist away even as he brings up his hands, framing his pecs: pushing them together to deepen the valley that Jesse is fucking through.

The little name tag is bouncing against Hanzo’s throat.

“Oh that’s it,” Jesse murmurs, hips liquid and smooth as they roll, fucking and watching the plush tits; the way his nipples get dark red and swollen from the abuse. “You’re sensitive, aren’t you? What a gorgeous whore you are. Fuck, your tits are perfect. Could spend hours just playing with ya.”

Hanzo is staring up at him, tongue out, trying to lick at his cock whenever he comes close enough. He looks out of it; no longer able to keep up his aloof act.

This one loves getting fucked. He looks almost adoringly up at Jesse; moves his hands until his fingers are framing his swollen nipples; offering them up for Jesse to torture some more.

McCree grunts, leaning forward, one hand petting clumsily through Hanzo’s hair.

“Pretty little whore offering up her gorgeous tits. Gotta be the star of this house, hm? Are you Master’s little pet? Yeah… yeah I bet you are. Pretty slut…”

Does this mean we might get Sombra kinking all over those thicc thighs and showing them the love they deserve? Or more mcreyes? Maybe Gabe getting bandaged up for something minor after a mission and the person doing the honors getting distracted by all that firm muscle right beneath their hands.

“¡Dios Mío!” Sombra sighs, sounding near to damn tears. Her small hands with sharp nails are digging into the backs of his thighs, keeping him from pulling away with a hiss like an agitated snake.

It’s not exactly what someone wants to hear when they drop their pants, but his ruffled feathers get soothed as Sombra basically falls forward, face pressing against the hard, generous curve of his thighs. She crawls closer, fingernails digging in until he grunts with pain. He wouldn’t move even if his life depended on it, however: she looks crazy enough that she would probably rip his dick off if he tried to take it away from her now.

“Your thighs,” she whines, sobs, pressing her face in closer, rubbing her cheek against the rock hard muscle. He rolls his eyes behind his mask but says nothing; stays impassive to keep face even as his cock his smearing against her temple and nudging against the artfully shorn side of her head. It hurts, the scratch of her short buzz against his sensitive glans, but he likes the bite of pain.

Sombra turns her head minimally, cheek pressed to his thigh, nose digging into the base of his cock. She is nosing at the loose, warm skin of his balls, her fingernails finally receding from his thighs so she can pet them in long, slow strokes.

He doesn’t have to do anything – just stand there and watch her trying her best to suffocate herself on his cock. She is drooling liberally, getting everything wet and sloppy, her lipstick long since smeared off against his dick as she kisses his balls and rubs her face against his cock and sucks the broad tip until it is nudging against her throat. Her face is going dark and flushed, then, eyes watering up.

She tries once, twice, thrice to deep dick her own throat, always ending up in making herself gag until her face changes into something that looks like fierce determination and she changes her angle and pushes again… and this time he can feel it, the tight ring of her throat finally giving way for him to slide in just a little deeper into that liquid heat and he groans low and long head falling back as he listens to the wet, sloppy sounds coming from her;

how she gasps for breath when she pulls back just a few seconds after.

Her smoky voice will be a lot more raspy the coming days, he is sure of it.

She does it again, her eyes open but unseeing, hazy and distracted by her own sluttiness. Her hands are holding on to his thighs – this time squeezing the round muscles in front. Her hands look tiny against the sheer bulk of them.

She pulls back again, gasping, a thick string of saliva connecting the tip of his cock to her tongue. She is petting his thighs once more; a feverish up and down as she gazes up at him.

“Can I lick your ass,” she asks suddenly and he jerks in surprise, a small grunt forced from his throat.

“I need to..” she watches her own hands pet him. “I need to be between them-”

Reaper snarls wordlessly, feeling himself flush in embarrassment as he thinks about lying back and spreading his legs; letting her crawl between and get at the warm, humid space behind his balls. The thought of her pretty little face mashed in the fragrant crack of his ass; her whiplash tongue curling around his hole because she was so infatuated with his goddamn thighs of all things…

It is… it’s a nice thought. Something to hold over her head when she’s being a little bruja again.

She’s a girl on a mission: is kissing his cock and glancing up at him, one hand curling around his balls, lovingly kneading, one cheeky finger nudging behind and tickling his hole. She suckles on his tip, tongue laving the exposed glans, and she’s being so sweet and forthcoming it is ridiculous.

As if she is anything but a little nightmare.

“Very well.”

McCree shouldn’t be as excited to have Reaper’s ass planted on his face; he knows as much, but he can’t make himself not puppy eager, his cock already fat and eager in his jeans, the head pushing up painfully behind the heavy belt buckle after he reached down to adjust it.

It’s humid and warm – no, sweltering – between Reaper’s cheeks. He feels like a fever, the nanomachines constantly working and building up an inhuman heat.

Jesse wants to say something about it; make a low, drawling quip about how he hadn’t expected to fly into the tropics today – but Reaper grinds down right then, as if sensing his stupid goddamn joke, heavy balls grinding across first the bridge of Jesse’s nose, then his forehead; settling there warm and oppressive-

but not as oppressive as Reaper himself, his thick thighs tightening around Jesse’s head as he shimmies his hips and settles down like a goddamn mother hen.

Jesse wants to say something – he thought it was funny – but it is hard to keep a clear head when he is suffocating in Reaper’s huge ass. Everything is dark and hot and the tip of Jesse’s nose is nudging against his hole until he can manage to angle his head up and let Reaper properly sit on his jaw.

“Finally,” the dark voice sighs above him. He feels Reaper’s talons scrape at his head – almost lovingly.

Jesse’s head is spinning; his heart is hammering. He doesn’t know if Reaper would hear it if he asked him to sit up and let him get gulps of fresh air. (He doesn’t know if he would care). The thought is as scary as it is arousing.

His cock is trying to strangle itself with his own goddamn belt.

“Begin,” Reaper hisses and his thighs tighten – and Jesse feels like his head had to pop like a grape. His chest is spasming, his bladder feeling sensitive and full; like he needs to piss himself; his body so confused on whether he is going to live or die.

Reaper grunts and sits up; lets him have at least one short, desperate gulp of air before he sits back down.

“Begin!”

Jesse does. He is as diligent as he’s been way back when Reaper had not been Reaper; tongue out and liberally wet, dragging across the wrinkled skin of his anus all the while his hands were occupied with groping; squeezing at the rock hard muscles of his large, shapely thighs.

Reaper is breathing deeply above him and moves minutely; drags his hole against Jesse’s tongue and his balls across his forehead.

He is getting more excited; grinds down harder until Jesse’s head is pounding, his heels kicking at the ground, spurs jingling loud and obnoxiously. He is suffocating between Reaper’s thighs and his cock is feeling like a wound, swollen and pulsing and hot.

He can feel it on his tongue when Reaper comes; the tight ring of muscles contracting and releasing against the inquisitive tip of his tongue, his thighs tensing and squeezing his head until the joints of his jaw are pounding and he is so sure something has dislocated itself…

Reaper lifts slowly, like an afterthought, and Jesse drags in air with a huge, awful gulp, cock pulsing out cum the second the oxygen hits his bloodstream; the sensation orgasmic in itself, his beard wet with saliva and Reaper’s sweat.

He’s a mess, but when he turns his pounding head – feeling like he is running a fever – Reaper is nowhere to be seen.