Shit man just gimme more young brat McCree calling Gabe ‘Daddy’ as he gets the lights fucked clean out of him. (Hell, time fuckery and young blackwatch McCree gets fucked by Reaper and still calls him ‘Daddy’)

Same anon as timefuckery but MAN GIVE ME TRANSGENDER YOUNG MCCREE CALLING GABE/REAPER DADDY. Just fuck me up fam.

It was the worst when Jesse still had the mind and audacity to laugh as Gabriel felt him up; ranging above the skinny body, mouth on one nipple barely cushioned by the little bit of fat that remained even after his life in Deadlock, and big fingers diving deep into the mess that was his cunt, hidden beneath the unkempt tangle of his pubes; a sweet little space for Gabriel to wreck and get soft and spread on his thrusting, twisting fingers.

If Jesse still could laugh, fingers scratching Gabriel’s shoulders up, knees jittery and jumping next to his hips, it meant that he was doing something wrong. That he hadn’t made Jesse sorry for being such an infuriating slut that could never sit fucking still.

He grunts, Jesse’s breathless giggling ringing in his ears, and bites meanly at the small, brown nipple just to get McCree to make another sound. He chokes on his goddamn laughter and becomes absolutely still for a second, fingers trying and failing to grab at Gabriel’s shorn head, spasming at his scalp and pressing his face close to his chest, mashing his scarred nose into the small, hard pillow of his tit before he whispers a small, almost awed sounding “Oh.”

Gabriel snorts, eyebrows drawn in concentration, fingers sliding through the mess of slick between Jesse’s thighs and carding away the generous tangle of his pubes, seeking… seeking… and finally finding Jesse’s clit.

Jesse howls and bucks up, legs lifting into the air without prompting, long narrow feet bouncing in the air as he tries to make Gabriel rub him the way he likes it; in sharp and hard little circles right across the fat nub as he kept him filled with two fingers, testing the give of his walls, how ready he was…

“Daddy,” Jesse whines suddenly, his voice all over the place. Gabriel grins and simply changes nipples, teeth sharp as he tests the very edges against the small nipple.

Jesse forgets to breathe, eager fear making him pat Gabriel’s back down with shivery hands. He fears his teeth just as much as he looks forward to them.

“Daddy,” he whispers, hips twisting, fucking up, “Daddy, please.”

At least he wasn’t laughing anymore. He always forgot to be a little punk shit when Gabriel put his mind to it. Jesse is tall and broad in the shoulders and still his snatch looks so damnably tiny whenever Gabriel nudges his cock up against it. In the diffuse light the soft insides are as bright red as a stop sign in midst of his pubes. A slick, glinting gash for Gabriel to nudge the head of his dick through; let it take a sniff of the treat it was to get.

“Yeah? You want your Daddy to fuck you like this? With your skinny legs in the air like a whore?” he growls and tilts his hips forward, the very tip starting to slowly, agonizingly spread Jesse open.

He goes silent, then. Gabriel can see his toes curl and spread rhythmically where they hang in the air, just about bouncing in his peripheral.

“Never get a fuckin’ word out when you’re supposed to,” he grunts, pushing in deeper, beads of sweat starting to form on his forehead as the squishy walls immediately close around him warm and welcoming; trying to suckle him deeper into that goddamn trap.

Jesse’s voice has become very high and very soft. Little ‘oh… oh… oh’s as he waits for Gabriel to fill him; stretch him out on his commander’s big cock until he can feel it warm his belly from the inside.

“You’ll learn,” Gabriel promises against a scruffy jaw, large hand cupping a small, hard tit and squeezing it. “You’ll learn, baby.”

Man, ever since someone brought up Dragonhardt all I can think about is Genji’s sweet robo puss squirting multiple times from Reinhardt’s fingers alone /sweats

had a talk with @filthytentacles and we were talking about an AU with sugar daddy!Reinhardt.

I had hoped I would get to smash through my writer’s block because I’m really fucking interested in this AU but alas 😦 so take just this little bit I managed to wring out of me.

Reinhardt felt fingers inch across his thigh and chanced a short glance over to his side. Genji was curled up on the seat, face plate lying discarded in the foot space.

Reinhardt chuckled and eased off the accelerator.

“I thought you wanted to be my bodyguard today, Spätzchen.”

Genji pushed closer with feet against the door, shoving his head unabashedly beneath Reinhardt’s arm until he had to shift to accommodate – which he did without complaint. He couldn’t deny Genji anything.

“The windows are bullet proof, and I’m bored.”

“You want a little treat, hm?”

“Not little…”

Reinhardt laughed out loud at that, fingers drumming restlessly on the steering wheel as he felt Genji work to carefully open up his fine dress pants.

“And here I thought you wanted to be reputable tonight… Have you even earned yourself a treat yet?”

He leaned back in the expensive leather seat, knees spreading to give Genji better access. His cock was still soft but Genji’s fingers always felt good around it, no matter what. He loved the cool grip of his silicon fingers and the feel of his breath as a stark contrast: warm and wet, fanning in excited, little pants across his skin.

Reinhardt hummed and moved, hand first falling down to the gear shift, then sliding over to pet through the silky, short hair his boy had managed to grow.

Genji wasn’t answering his teasing – he was more interested in suckling the tip into his mouth, tongue out and dipping into the folds of his foreskin. He was rewarded with a low groan when he flicked it against the sensitive head hidden there.

“Don’t get my pants dirty, Spätzchen… You need to be a good boy tonight.” His fingers slide down, wiping at the spit drooling from Genji’s eager mouth, his eyes already glassy looking when Reinhardt chances a small glance down into his lap; watching the wide spread of Genji’s jaw as his cock starts filling; fattening up in the warm, wet space of the cyborg’s mouth.

When Genji pops off, it’s accompanied with a lewd, slurping pop. His hand keeps moving – slowly jerking the older man, keeping his cock upright so he could still rub his cheek against it and let Reinhardt feel the dual textures of scarred cheek going over to synthetic jaw.

“Yes, Daddy.” He cooed it, voice studiously sweet, golden eyes glimmering with a green hint as Reinhardt grunted in surprise, belly clenching. Genji didn’t always pull out that particular card.

They halted at a stop light and Reinhardt’s big hand shifted immediately – from the back of Genji’s neck down the slope of his back towards the generous curve of his ass.

It was easy to push the fabric of his codpiece to the side. Genji shifted up on his knees eagerly, ass pushing into the touch of thick fingers sliding through his mesh cunt.

“Naughty…” Reinhardt murmurs, fingers dipping in deeper, spreading the silky material and rubbing up against the little nodes hidden inside. “You rather want to be Daddy’s little slut instead of my bodyguard, hm?”

Genji hums, peppering kisses along the shaft, hips swaying and moving as he tries to fuck himself onto the fat fingers, no longer as interested in the big cock he was hugging to his face as he was wanting to get fingered to orgasm.

He cried out in dismay when Reinhardt pulled away, giving him a parting slap before focusing back on driving.

“Be a good boy and maybe I’ll squirrel you off into the bathroom later…”

Fam this has been stuck in my head all day and I’m pretty sure you’ll appreciate it: little Blackwatch McCree, thinking he’s hot shit but everyone knows he’s just looking for Gabriel’s approval. Gabe finally gets this little brat under him and is fucking delighted to discover that when he pounds Jesse hard enough he cries and calls him Daddy. Gabe fucks up against his prostate in short little thrusts just to listen to Jesse howl and to tell him he’s not allowed to cum till Daddy says so

“Calm the fuck down, kid. Jesus.”

Gabriel leans forward, big hands sliding beneath McCree’s jittery hips to get a good grip at his ass. It still was a little too lean for his tastes; they still had to fatten the kid up from his life in Deadlock, but they were getting there. At least enough to squeeze and get a good grope in.

“Ridiculous. Did you fuck the ladies like that? Can’t imagine that went over too well…” He watches McCree’s face darken in a flush and chuckles, broad finger inching over, rubbing against the tender little muscle he finds. “Yeah. That’s what I thought. Didn’t appreciate your hyperactive ass. That’s fine: I can teach ya. Just like in training, right? Just follow my lead.”

The kid stares at him, eyes big, mouth – that ever talking, ever laughing fucking mouth that Reyes had wanted to slap more times than he liked to admit – finally not making any sound at all. It’s just hanging open a little.

He wonders what part of his statement had finally gotten McCree’s attention. His slim hips are lying heavy and relaxed in Gabriel’s hands and when he pulls him roughly down to lay them on his lap – have better access at everything the kid had to offer – McCree didn’t try to ‘help’ again. Just followed his lead, docile and relaxed.

“Just like in trainin’,” he whispers before Gabriel can wonder if something is wrong and they need to actually talk. “Yeah, yeah. Jus’ like in trainin’. Just follow you, Commander.”

.o.

McCree is loud in bed. It doesn’t surprise Reyes. Annoys him a little, maybe, but doesn’t surprise him. His ear is ringing where McCree has put his mouth next to, clinging to his shoulders, not letting him go again after Reyes made the fatal mistake of leaning down to gently bite at McCree’s shoulder.

He could disentangle himself – but doesn’t.

The base already knows McCree is hot for his cock – it’s not changing anything that they can make sure now that without a doubt, yes, Jesse McCree was a slut for his Commander. To the contrary: it was flattering.

“Like that, do you? Bit of a size queen, McCree?” he purrs, hips flexing, cock dragging in the wet, hot clutch of that sweet little muscle he’d been petting earlier. McCree whines high and pathetic, twists his hips, tries to start up with his nervous little jackrabbit movements and gurgles on a groan when Reyes immediately reaches for him and pins him back down.

He needs to be reminded to stay where he is, every now and then – to let him take care of the actual dicking part.

“Yes, D-Daddy.”

His hips, moving in piston-like, slow, agonizing precision – stutter, slow down, halt.

He lifts his head, straining against the clutching arms of the kid, and peers down at him.

McCree grins back – broad and shit-eating, eyes glassy, dots of nervous color spreading on his cheeks. They stare at each other a beat longer, before Reyes starts grinning; can feel it stretch across his face sharp and shark like.

“Yes?” he rumbles, pushes back in with a twist of his hips, feeling himself rub against warm, giving walls; feels McCree’s weeping, sleek cock bump against the sweaty ridges of his belly. “You’re a freak like that, McCree?”

He pulls out, then snaps back in on a different angle. He watches McCree’s eyes snap open, mouth dropping from its false-bravado nervous grin into an ‘o’ of surprised pleasure.

Gabriel chuckles. Cackles. His belly is on fire and he pushes up onto his hands, getting out of McCree’s lax grip easy; ranges above him and stares down as he keeps fucking into that same, sweet space, watching McCree’s face flush with a whole ‘nother flush, eyes filling with tears, throat working around sounds that are suddenly cut off.

Jesse stares at him, eyes roaming. Reverent. He looks like he’s about to have a stroke, staring at his Commander’s sweaty, heaving body, muscles in stark relief as he fucks – and Reyes thinks he can get used to that. Fucking his newest fan.

“Yes… fuck… Daddy.” McCree has suddenly found his voice back, hands coming up, curling tight around his biceps. He’s hiccuping with every of Gabriel’s thrusts now, cock bouncing, slapping against his belly and the too thick treasure trail he probably groomed into the impossible thatch that it was.

“Daddy. Daddy. Daddy, please!” He’s howling, whining, begging, staring up at Gabriel and scratching up his arms because he keeps loosing purchase on the slick skin as he’s getting fucked.

Gabriel grins at him. Leans down – rasps right in his face: “Good boy.”

Trans Jack anon here: Gabe likes teasing Jack with multiple toys, asking if any are better then him. Jacks a mess, and just whimpering and begging for gabe to fuck him cause no none of the toys are as good as Gabes dick, please just fuck him till he can’t walk straight. (Bonus: Daddy kink if ur into that.)

Jack’s neck seems to swell with the strain of his low, grating moans; it flushes, veins popping out and Adam’s apple working as Gabriel slowly pushes in ridge after ridge of the new toy he got his friend.

“Like that?” he purrs, readjusting Jack’s leg on his shoulder. With Jack on his side like this, it is easy to get at his cunt; it’s flushed and puffy from the attention already, that plump little cock looking obscenely swollen from Gabriel’s fleeting attention – fingertips thrumming across, then leaving as quick as they had appeared.

“Yes,” Jack is whimpering, hands clawing at the bedding, his own thigh, his hair – anywhere so he wouldn’t let them slide between his legs to frantically jerk off. Gabriel can be very creative with his disciplinary actions if he wants to.

“More than me, cariño mio?”

Jack grinds his teeth, fighting against answering the insidious question again – but Gabriel pushes in a little more; threatens Jack’s poor opening to have to stretch across an even bigger ridge.

Jack breaks quite easily.

“N-No, daddy! Nonono. I llll… lllove your cock so much. Please? Please fuck me?”

Gabriel laughs at him and lets him beg a little more before he starts pulling the toy away, demeanor suddenly changed as he coos at him, big hands rubbing across his shivery hips and clenching abs.

“Shush, baby boy. Yeah… daddy’s gonna give you his cock. You’re gonna cry for me again? Yeah… that’s it… perfect little boy for papi.”

Oh but what about reaper going through with his threats and lending soldier 76 to others and by others I mean Roadhog. BUuuttttt then he gets so jealous at the pathetic whimpering and sobbing 76 is doing so after RH is done he just fucks into 76’s filthy used up hole to show him who his real papi is

“Come here. Let me see.” He grabs 76′s belt and drags him closer with an impatient snarl, sharp claws making short work of the fastenings of his pants. The soldier stiffens in protest for a second, then relaxes once more.

Reaper can hear him breathe harshly behind his mask. He grunts softly when Reaper pushes his hands into the back of his ruined pants, and still doesn’t protest the rough handling; only moans softly when broad, rude fingers nudge against his hole and test how well prepared he is. Reaper can feel him against his thigh; already hard as a diamond. He makes a sharp, little sound when Reaper pushes in two fingers without warning out of retaliation for the old asshole being so… so…

“Okay. Get your ass in there, slut,” he hisses, feeling agitated and on edge for no reason at all.

76 hesitates, stumbles a step back and looks around the parking lot like he’s seeing it for the first time, then starts turning towards the ruined warehouse.

“What. Are you so hungry for cock that you’re forgetting your manners?”

The soldier hesitates, then rasps, “Thanks, papi.”

Reaper shudders and watches him make his stumbling way inside, one hand holding his ruined pants up.

.o.

Gabriel had followed the progress of the junkers for some time; not because he had had them in mind for this little tete-a-tete, but just because he found them entertaining.

It had taken watching them work up close for his new obsession to form. They were rude and dirty and disgusting. Perfect for what he had in plan for the golden boy.

.o.

It was strangely less satisfying than Gabriel had anticipated; squatting on a rusty beam and watching the proceedings through a broken window; listening in to Jack’s little sounds of distress and slutty need that became progressively louder with the amount of cock he was forced to take.

From what he had observed, it hadn’t needed much convincing at all; Jack letting his ruined pants fall down to his knees and showing off his hard, bobbing cock with an air of almost pathetic hope to what clearly were absolute strangers.

Fawkes didn’t touch him, even; just lounged around and made a couple crass comments before his attention got pulled elsewhere. Rutledge, however… he seemed more than willing to get a taste.

Gabriel could hear the nasty, animal sound of their fucking; the wet squelching as the massive man pushed inside, large hands clamped around 76′s arms just above his elbows, pulling him back onto the meaty cock in a leisurely but relentless pace.

The soldier was taking his fucking wordlessly – but not passively. His booted feet had shuffled apart as wide as possible, ass hiked up into the grinding, deep thrusts. He was… eager.

Gabriel grit his teeth and refused to acknowledge the angry pounding of his erection; or the way Jack fucking sounded. His rough voice started to climb in register – became high and pathetically needy as he let himself get used, helpless in Roadhog’s huge arms.

Reaper could see the occasional drip of sticky fluid between 76′s thighs and it was making him unduly angry; to know that the huge man was probably pummeling right against the soldier’s prostate, trying to milk him dry.

Gabriel was horny and angry and he couldn’t fucking stop watching as Overwatch’s pet soldier got wrecked on a huge, dirty cock and begged for more with inarticulate, dumb babbling.

Fucked stupid in a dirty warehouse by a grunting hulk of a man while being watched by a giggling maniac. It should maybe be disgusting – but all Reaper could think about was that Jack was doing this in the first place because he had ordered him to.

.o.

“Dios, you’re a nasty slut, aren’t you?” Reaper grunts as he slams Jack over some crates and hectically fumbles with his fly. “I watched you, soldier. Couldn’t fucking keep your pants up for even a minute, could you? Just let them drop and let them see what a nasty whore you were. You had luck they obviously don’t have standards.”

Jack is clawing at the wood of the crate and probably driving splinters into his fingers. He doesn’t seem to care; he is whining and arching his back. Presenting. Showing off the dark, soft gape of his ruined hole and the warm, thick cum oozing out.

His cock hung heavy between his thighs. He hadn’t come himself – Rutledge had used him like the old toy he was and then thrown him onto the dirty ground.

Jack had whined and begged; hectically crawled around to lick at Rutledge’s sticky, softening cock, trying to get another rise out of him; get him to finish what he started… but the large man had simply stood like a rock, enjoying the desperate attention, and eventually pushed 76 away like he was nothing but a yapping dog.

They were gone now, the two insane assholes, and Reaper had swooped in with something he was loath to admit was eagerness.

He could feel it burn beneath his skin; making his blood boil.

“Had luck they were willing to take the next best cunt that offered itself to them,” he growled, his wet, warm breath making it hard to breathe behind his mask. Fuck, he wanted to take it off; bite at Jack’s throat until he could taste blood gushing onto his tongue.

But that was not how things worked.

76 made a sound like a wounded puppy; his eyes were glazed over, mouth wide open and panting. Reaper had no idea when he even lost his visor. He looked like he was in fucking heaven even though his cheeks were flushed a ruddy red in embarrassment.

“Were you gagging on their stink while he fucked you?” he breathed low, sinister as he pushed in; felt the soft spongy walls welcome him in, the slide in made pathetically easy by the creamy cum already deposited. “Did you love how unwashed they were? Did you like taking a nasty, dirty cock and licking it clean afterwards?”

Jack jerked against him. He was choking on his own excited breaths, eyes clamped shut tightly. Gabriel could see tears glistening in his lashes.

“Y-Yes. Yes. God, yes, I did,” Jack hiccuped through the short, sharp thrusts Reaper was starting in on. He grit his teeth, eyebrows drawing together in focus as he snapped his hips; getting Rutledge’s cum to froth around the rim.

“What do good boys say?” Reaper growled, voice deep and ethereal, black mist wafting out of the sides of his mask. He felt like he was starting to slip; like he was starting to actually go mad for Jack fucking Morrison.

“Th-Th-Th-” Jack’s teeth were chattering. He was trying to tighten up for Gabriel’s cock and failing miserably after the fat cock that had reamed him throughout the last half hour. He was openly weeping, arching his back and clawing at the wood with bloody fingers. “Thank you, p-p-papi.”

“Damn right. Damn fucking right, little nasty whore.”

He had to bite his lip to stop babbling, fingertips digging into Morrison’s hips, eyes feeling like they were about to spring out of his head so he wouldn’t say anything strange. Anything irresponsible. Anything about how proud he was of his boy and how papi had loved and hated seeing him getting dicked down by another man.

McCree and Reyes were so fucked up before the second rise of Overwatch :O only McCree kinda found his equilibrium back, it seems…

“McCree. Stay.”

Jesse winces and eyes his team mates as they file out of the showers hastily, leaving him alone with Commander Reyes. He tries to stand at attention, but he’s never been in the military, so he has no real idea of how to do it. He just makes sure to keep his back straight and tries to not look too self-conscious with just a towel around his waist and only one sock on.

Reyes stalks towards him; big and dangerous, still in his tactical gear from the training session they’ve just completed. His dark eyes give nothing away.

“You’ve got good aim,” he says, when he’s finally right up in Jesse’s face. Close enough that he can smell the sweat and feel his belly tighten in conflicting arousal. Reyes’ voice is low, almost a whisper, and Jesse hates himself for how warm the praise makes him feel.

“Sure, I-”

“How ‘bout you keep your fucking eyes on the target, then.”

Jesse’s stomach drops. He leans back and away from Reyes, as his face becomes hot with shame. Has he noticed-

“I don’t appreciate being watched.”

Yes. Yes, he noticed.

“Understood, Sir.”

“Hopefully.”

.o.

Jesse can’t leave well enough alone, can he?

He wants to say that it’s just because Reyes explicitly warned him not to do it. He wants to say that it’s just because he’s a bastard and he likes the thrill of the forbidden.

He knows it’s something else entirely, but he’d never go far enough to admit it to himself.

Instead, McCree finds himself loitering around base when he doesn’t have anything else to do. It’s not hard to find his boss, because he always was in spitting range of Morrison – and where Morrison was, recruits tended to flock.

Morrison was a likable kind of guy. Approachable and hard working. He gave off farmboy vibes, and McCree should’ve felt connected to him.

Instead, he could only stare at Reyes from beneath the brim of his hat, quickly ducking into shadows whenever he turned around, looking for the invisible gaze he could feel on his person.

It wasn’t that McCree wanted to make Reyes angry, per se – he just wanted… he wanted…

Attention.

.o.

Jesse rounds the corner and abruptly stands still. He frowns as he stares down the corridor – no sign of Reyes. He could’ve sworn…

A heavy weight slams into his back and rams him against the wall. His vision is blurry from his forehead connecting with the concrete, and he can dimly feel a big hand on the back of his head before his face gets mashed into the wall.

“This is my last warning, McCree,” Reyes hisses into his ear. Jesse can smell whiskey on his breath; warm and familiar. It’s just as oppressive as the broad, unrelenting body pressing against his back – and he has the weirdest, most conflicted boner.

“I don’t know what you’re getting at – but you should stop your little game. I am… not amused.”

Reyes gives him one more little shove into the wall, but all Jesse feels is the short nudge of his Commander’s hips against his ass. Reyes leaves him standing in the corridor with a bruise slowly forming on his forehead, and his cock throbbing helplessly.

.o.

“Good shot.” The curt, almost grudging praise had come crackling over the com right in the middle of the training session, and fucked Jesse right up.

He absolutely botches the rest trying to show off for Reyes. In retaliation, Reyes did… nothing.

He just did nothing. Didn’t even fucking mention it. Didn’t cuff Jesse around the back of his head, or called him a good for nothing ingrate. He didn’t threaten to give him the boot and kick him back to Route 66 where he’d found him.

He just… did nothing, and Jesse didn’t understand why. It wasn’t like he wanted Reyes to be mad at him or hit him or…

… It was like that, if he was honest.

He wanted to get pushed around, he wanted to get noticed, he wanted –

“You don’t know when to stop, do you… little boy.”

Reyes sounds almost conversational. It’s too late at night to stumble upon him on accident here in the shower rooms, and Jesse can just stand and helplessly stare from the shadow of one of the lockers. There’s nothing he could say now.

He’d watched his Commander work out in the gym; stemming weights and pounding dummies for hours on end, face a mask of rage and hate that slowly seemed to melt away into grim resignation.

He’d just stood in the corner and watched, hand in his crotch, squeezing the bulge of his cock, and coming up with strange, nonsensical scenarios of how he could approach his boss. Get on his knees and mash his face into his sweaty crotch. Suffocate himself on the big, uncut dick and let Reyes fuck his frustrations out into his throat in sharp, violent thrusts.

“Come here.”

Jesse does. He feels strangely weepy, alone with Reyes and with his cock hard and throbbing in his pants. He doesn’t know what’s going to happen and yet he hopes it will be horrible. He wants Reyes to hurt him and degrade him and insult him – just… just pay attention to him.

–

He has no idea how he ends up on one of the benches, with his Commander slowly lowering his ass right onto his face. His brain shorted out; he doesn’t know what happened to lead to this. He has the vague recollection of Reyes talking to him with a low, painfully calm voice.

He sounded soothing. Like he understood. Like he knew exactly what was going on in McCree.

He sounded like a father.

“I know what you need,” he can hear Reyes’ voice from above him. Strong fingers are in his hair, keeping him just the way his Commander wants him to be, before everything gets dark and humid and suffocating.

He can feel the heaviness of Reyes’ testicles against his forehead seconds before he has to open his mouth on instinct and give his hole a broad lick.

Reyes is drenched in sweat, and Jesse digs his nose in just behind his humid balls because his Commander’s low, rattling groan at getting his sweaty ass licked by his protege makes him teary eyed again.

“Good. You’re doing good,” Reyes sighs above him, thick thighs bracketing Jesse’s head. The muscles flex with Reyes’ little, rocking motions – as he drags his ass across Jesse’s tongue – and it was fucking scary to have his head in between them.

Jesse could imagine Reyes being able to pop his head with those thighs if he just put his mind to it, and it just made him sob against his boss’ slick taint, and a trickle of cum soak into his boxers.

He was a freak and completely broken, but he was okay with it because he could mash his face into his boss’ fat ass and get complimented for doing such a great job.

“You can be a good boy if you want to,” Reyes muses above him. He sounds a little out of breath, voice a deep, rumbling growl, and tears spring to Jesse’s eyes because he thinks I did that. I.

Reyes drags his cock unabashedly across Jesse’s face as he rides him; smears his low hanging, ripe balls right across his closed eyelids, and presses down with his weight to have him gasp for breath.

Reyes was a fucking bastard and Jesse was dumb enough to lap it right up, and thank him for the privilege of getting suffocated by his ass.

“I know exactly how to make it stop hurting.” Reyes dark voice is an insidious whisper that goes right to Jesse’s core and makes him try and press his tongue past the tight muscle he had been worshiping with kisses and licks.

“Say it, little boy. Maybe I will let you come, too. Just say it.”

Jesse squeezes his eyes shut tighter. His scalp was burning with Reyes’ unrelenting fingers tearing at his too long hair. His body was a bow strung too tight, and he was scared what might happen when he finally snapped.

“Say it, Jesse.”

And maybe it was the sharp tug on his hair, or the insistent downward grind of Reyes’ hips – or the fact that he’d called him Jesse…

He had no idea what he was supposed to say until he actually did. It just tumbled out of his mouth, groaned against Reyes’ sweaty, gorgeous ass, with Jesse’s cock confusedly drooling little dribbles of cum into his underwear.

“Daddy.”

Reyes laughed at him.

harry will be speechless when these deft fingers massage his prostate

I like to think that that’s how Harry has to earn his keep. He makes food and looks pretty whereas Eggsy does all the other stuff around the house and then some.

I like to think that it’s how he relaxes (both of them, really) with Harry across Eggsy’s lap and those infernal fingers diving in deep and making slow, gentle love to his prostate. He’s always so relaxed and open anyway. Hole seemingly constantly ready for Eggsy in the mood to coax out all those embarrassing noises out of him.

“My good boy,” Eggsy croons and opens his legs father; gives Harry simultaneously a bigger lap to lounge on and less possibility to rub off against Eggsy’s leg. “you’re my good boy. Coming when daddy tells you to…”

He can see the tips of Harry’s ears burning but he’s not sure whether from embarrassment or lust when he does another slow circle around that plump, delicious prostate.

“Come onnnnnn….” Josh was trying so hard to whisper and not alert the other Washingtons rummaging around the big house, minding their own business. His voice was high and thready with strain, vibrating on the n because he wouldn’t stop bouncing in his frustrated arousal.

When Chris did nothing but put his arms up and behind his head, still just watching and letting Josh use his cock, Josh let his head fall back with a drawn out groan and rested for a while, getting his breath back as much as possible when Chris’ dick was just there. Just deep within him, stretching his walls and making him feel like his belly should be bulging with how well it filled him.

“Chris,” he whined when Chris finally couldn’t feel his heartbeat pounding around his cock rabbit fast. He wasn’t particularly quiet anymore but Chris wouldn’t say a thing. Josh simply was a loud thing in bed – just as he was anywhere else – and he forgot so quickly when he was sitting on a juicy cock and trying his best to get off when Chris was lying there like a lazy piece of shit, not doing anything but ogling his body. The way his dark nipples became tight little peaks, begging to be tugged on; or how his dick bounced, slapping against Chris’ pudgy belly and smearing pre-cum in the light hair there.

“Nah-ah,” Chris sing-songed and took his arms from behind his head. He reached for Josh’s skinny chest and smiled when his friend eagerly tilted into it, mouth falling open as he felt Chris’ big hands frame his rib cage so he could better thumb his sensitive nipples.

Chris smirked when Josh’s dick gave a jerk, dribbling out a new thin string of pre-cum.

“Say it,” he prompted. Josh’s legs were shaking something fierce and Chris was reasonably sure he was on the end of his tether – no longer able to properly move and just sitting on the big cock lodged deep and intimate and probably snuggled up right to his prostate.

Josh shook his head, dark, messy hair flying and face getting dark with stubbornness. Chris hummed and let one hand fall down, carefully circling Josh’s cock with his fingers – just holding it in a loose grip while he started tugging on Josh’s nipple.

“Say it~~~”

Josh only let out a pitiful sob and threw one arm up to place across his eyes. The corners of his expressive mouth trembling and turning down as he bit his lip. Chris waited patiently. He was used to Josh’s theatrics and stalling tactics.

He simply hummed and waited – playing with his best friend’s body as he did so. He let his hand fall away from Josh’s gorgeous, little tits so he could reach behind him, patting his rump lovingly before slowly sliding fingers between his cheeks.

It was warm and damp there, and the rim of his hole quivered at the light brush of fingertips. Josh let out an explosive, low groan, then seemed to remember himself and let his arm drop so he could press it against his mouth before he could utter any words. Because Josh fucking loved talking through sex. Loved telling Chris in lurid detail about how much his poor hole burned trying to open up for “your fat dick, cochise. God, I love your cock so much. I could never be angry with you because I want to always be friends with your big fucking dick.”

Chris just grinned at him. His glasses were askew and fogged up but Josh liked fucking him when he wore them so they stayed. It only added to the little fantasy, Chris supposed, as he tapped a broad fingertip against the stretched muscle he found, the other hand idly playing with Josh’s dark foreskin.

“Say it, baby boy,” he prompted softly. “Say it real quiet. Nobody’ll need to hear, right? You can whisper it right in my ear and I’ll give you everything you need. Breed up your pretty cunt just like you want me to.”

He rubbed more insistently now; partly to tease himself, partly to make Josh think he was trying to fit it inside him as well; stretch him even wider than he already was.

Josh sobbed and shook his head wildly, one hand shooting down and behind, long, skinny fingers curling around Chris’ wrist, even as he tipped down and plastered himself as much as he could across his friend’s chest. It wasn’t the most comfortable of positions, since Josh was a bony mother fucker, but he adored the way he tucked his face against Chris’ throat and pretended to be a sweet, little boy.

Pretended as if he were much younger than Chris.

“Please daddy?” he cooed, fingers slowly letting go of Chris’ wrist as he was reasonably sure he wouldn’t try to finger him. “Gonna be your good boy.”

Chris groaned, hips finally flexing up and into the warm clutch of Josh’s body.

“Fuuuck. I know you’ll be, baby boy. Daddy’s good little slut.”