11th Batch Ko-Fi Fics: 4th Fill

Winston/Soldier76 – continuation of this fic – RAPE TW; forced feminization; coercion; slut shaming; hitting – Soldier is back from his mission and his first pitstop is at Winston’s place.

Winston rarely sleeps in his quarters; more often than not he falls unconscious during his research, having tuckered himself out without realizing his own fatigue.

Finding him in his actual bed for a change is a stroke of luck in Jack’s opinion. He’s just come back from the mission and hasn’t even showered yet. He’s dirty and gritty but he needs to get his cock wet; especially after how abruptly last time had ended: The footsteps becoming audible through the video feed before Winston had suddenly moved; pulling down his sweater and jumping up from his chair, leaving Jack with a view of it slowly rotating within his view.

He hadn’t come back that night.

He must have known that it would have consequences – but he obviously hasn’t anticipated just how quickly Jack could finish a mission when properly *motivated*. He does not think the good scientist would have let himself get caught in as isolated a place as this.

His face when Jack straddles his large gut and takes a seat, looks as much. He’s startled and confused, big hairy arms flailing until Jack can pin them down. He can pinpoint the second Winston realizes what is up: his face becomes deathly pale.

Jack grins down at him and grinds down on Winston’s large belly to let him feel how excited he is already.

“Hey there, babygirl…” he purrs, watching how the other man’s face falls when he seems to realize that he’s not dreaming. He lets go of his arms, sure that he’ll leave them up over his head like a good girl – he does – and slaps his cheek a few times, just hard enough to hear the smack of it.

“Oh no… don’t you cry now. Daddy’s here, and he’s missed you *so much*…”

He takes Winston’s pyjama top in both hands and rips. Buttons shoot off in all direction, making a ruckus as they hit the floor and wall and clatter against other objects.

Winston flushes, his big brown eyes becoming wet as he stares up at Jack. For a second he looks like he wants to say something but then presses his lips together once more and doesn’t. They both know he wouldn’t have gotten out anything past his idiotic mumbling and Jack pats his cheek again before looking down and sighing deeply.

“Ah. Damn, I’ve missed those tits.”

He grabs at Winston’s pecs, soft and hairy like the rest of him, and squeezes until the scientist grunts softly, his head turned away.

Jack laughs at him and just pinches one of his dark, pudgey nipples until Winston makes a soft sound as if he wants to cry out but doesn’t let himself.

“Oh does that hurt, Princess? Does it hurt if I pinch your pretty teats?”

He does it again, and Winston squawks, the big muscles in his biceps twitching as he fights against the urge to push Jack away or cover up. He obviously still remembers last time he tried to deny him.

“You can cry out if you want, you know.”

With his other hand, Jack opens his pants, then fishes around the humid insides until his cock practically leaps into his palm. He shuffles farther up until he can drag the crown against the thick fur between Winston’s tits.

“I don’t care if the others hear. But you seem to be a bit squeamish, hm? After last time?”

Winston’s head snaps around and he stares up at Jack, mute but horrified. Maybe he hoped Jack would not bring it up; how he’s just left him hanging. Jack grins slowly, rocking his hips, casually fucking between Winston’s pecs.

Winston’s dark eyes flick down and stare at his cock. His nostrils flare. He has to smell how dirty Jack is, but he keeps quiet about it, even though his face becomes a little bit more pinched.

“You can cry if you want. Girls do that a lot, don’t they? Maybe someone will come to save you… Or maybe they’ll want to play with you, too?”

He has both hands on Winston’s tits now, pressing them together to fuck between them. When his cock slides across the coarse, dark hair, it leaves behind a sticky trail of pre-cum.

He has half a mind to get off like this and force his personal slut to drink it all down, but Winston looks curiously defiant and more composed than usual, and Jack thinks he should maybe up the game some.

He’s been dreaming about that fat ass on his dick anyway, so why not indulge himself?

Winston’s breathing becomes quick and wet when Jack manhandles him onto his front, then whimpers when he hits his ass and tells him to get properly up on his knees.

“You want daddy’s cock?! Work for it, whore.”

At least those are some nice reactions finally. There are things that are harder to get used to. A fat cock in your little girl cunt is one of those, Jack thinks to himself with a sharp, canine grin as he spreads Winston’s fat ass and tries to brute force his way inside.

It is too tight and too dry. Winston is howling into the pillows, and Jack gives him another hard slap in frustration just for good measure. He rummages around the man’s bedside drawer and gets the lube stashed away there.

It’s easier with his dick slicked up, but still takes a while to squeeze his dick in. Winston refuses to relax, and he’s still whining while he clenches around Jack’s cock like a seasoned whore, his dick plumping up nice between his trembling, chubby thighs.

“There you go. You love daddy’s dick. Next time you’ll be a good girl. Show your little clit off to whoever daddy tells you to, right?”

He fucks hard and ruthless, one foot up on the mattress for better leverage as he dicks into the tight, painful clench.

Winston’s answer is lost in another howl.

8th Batch Ko-Fi Fics: 3rd Fill

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Show me your tits.”

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

“I… ah… b-but-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

He almost feels bad about it. Almost.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

4th Batch Ko-Fi Fics: 2nd Fill

McHanzo + Soldier76 – housewife!Hanzo; rape play; breath play; name calling; dirty talk; dehumanization; forced feminization; hair pulling/rough – Jesse brings the Commander over without first talking to Hanzo about it. The Commander is very good at playing his part.

“Babydoll,” Jesse calls out, throwing a quick glance behind him to make sure Jack is closing the door quietly, not making a sound. “Daddy’s home.”

There’s a moment of stillness, then the soft sound of dishes clicking on the counter as they are set down.

“Yes,” comes the reply. It is simple. Reserved. There’s the soft tap of Hanzo’s prosthetic feet on the naked floor and then he is standing in the doorway, an apron secured around his waist. It does not look too special; casual. A simple shield for the sudsy, dirty water – but it is also white and frilly around the edges and seems decidedly out of place on the otherwise austere man wearing it.

Hanzo’s face is unreadable as he stares at them for a bit too long, dark eyes twitching between them. He seems impassive until his fingers start curling around the very edge of the apron. He looks self-conscious.

“Commander,” he says carefully and slowly, gaze lingering on Jesse, his high cheekbones flushing more and more.

Jack does not say anything. He stares back with a blank expression, waiting – and Jesse jumps in smoothly, making his way deeper into the living quarters that are decidedly too small for three big men like them.

“None a’ that now, babydoll. We’re not too formal here. I brought Jack over for a nice beer. Told him about my little wife – he said he’d like to meet her.”

Hanzo is frozen to the spot, face still stony, yet there is a minimal shift in the set of his eyebrows and the twist of his mouth that makes him look… betrayed. Vulnerable. He stares at Jesse, fingers curled tightly into the hem of his apron, frozen to the spot.

He looks like a deer caught in the headlights, and there is a certain kind of fragility in the air as all three men wait how this will play out; whether Hanzo will flee or fight – or play along like a good girl.

Jesse takes a cautious step closer, head lowering a bit, staring intently at Hanzo. His voice is deep, soothing but urging at the same time.

“Jack would love his beer now, baby.”

Hanzo swallows, and the click of his dry throat is almost audible. There’s another second of mute staring and then Hanzo turns on his heel and retreats.

Jesse lets out the air he’s been holding and turns, throwing Jack a roguish grin. The Commander smirks back lopsidedly, steely eyes still lingering on the spot the archer had occupied before following the sweep of Jesse’s arm and making his way towards the small table.

He is unselfconscious about the erection tenting his pants as he moves, not trying to hide the fact that he’s already very aroused at the prospect of playing tonight. Jesse does not mention it, either – he is in much the same predicament, after all.

.o.

Jesse does not think that Hanzo did it deliberately but he does sure appreciate the delicious irony in the situation as the shaking of Hanzo’s hands caused the bottle to fall and empty itself across Jack’s lap.

He’s never played with someone Jesse just brought along – or someone they both know and work with for that matter – and it definitely shows. He is nervous and twitchy, and now he’s staring at Jack’s angry face with an open anxiousness that should not get Jesse’s cock wet at the tip but does it regardless.

Jack’s mouth is pinched into a tight line as he sets the beer bottle back onto the table. When Hanzo still just stands there, staring, he barks: “Well? Do something!”

Hanzo jerks, his face going hard for a second as his ever-present pride rears its head, but a quick glance at Jesse’s expectant gaze seems to quell the urge to sneer and talk down to them.

Instead he mumbles: “Apologies…” and turns to retreat and get a washcloth. Jack’s arm snaps out, curling hard around Hanzo’s wrist before he can go anywhere.

“Where do you think you’re going?” His bright eyes are unsettling as he stares at Hanzo without blinking. He tugs hard, making Hanzo stumble towards him.

“Jesse told me about his well-behaved little cunt of a wife, but all I’m seeing is some clumsy bimbo.” Hanzo’s cheeks start burning again, his mouth going soft and open in shock over the commander’s harsh words. Jack’s hand is still curled around the archer’s thick wrist, holding on tight, short nails digging harshly into his skin. “You didn’t even put on something pretty for us. That’s not very nice.”

His eyes flick down, and his already rough voice becomes hard to understand as it gets a bit deeper: “Least you got some nice tits. You should show them off more.”

Hanzo pulls weakly at the grip Jack has on him, his voice cracking as he veritably whispers: “Y-You are hurting me…”

Jack’s eyes flick to Jesse, but he is just sitting there relaxed, watching the scene unfold.

Emboldened, Jack turns back to Hanzo and pulls hard. Hanzo stumbles, and, even though the maneuver would not be enough to knock him down usually, lets himself now fall hard to his knees in front of Jack.

“Clean the mess you made, girlie.”

Hanzo’s eyes become glassy at the nickname, mouth so soft and red as he dazedly stares at the Commander’s beer-wet crotch in front of him. When he doesn’t move quick enough, Jack’s other hand snatches a fistful of his hair, gripping harsh enough that Hanzo cries out in distress, face twisted in pain.

The Commander does not care about it, pulling him close, dragging Hanzo’s cheek against the rough denim and hard bulge of his cock.

“I said. Clean it.”

Hanzo is panting, voice shot as he assents with a shaky: “Y-Yes, Sir…” after throwing a helpless gaze towards Jesse who remains impassive to his plea.

They watch as Hanzo sets to work, licking at the beer-wet jeans, and, after another harsh twist of Jack’s fist in his hair, opens his mouth wide above where the tip of his cock pushes against the fabric, and starts sucking.

Jack groans, thick thighs falling open more easily, rigid shoulders losing some of their tense lines.

“Ahh, fuck. That’s exactly what I needed.”

Jesse smirks. There’s a high flush on his cheeks – the open, unselfconscious vulgarity of the Commander seems to intoxicate him way more than the bit of alcohol he’s sipped at while watching the show.

“I am glad I could be of service,” he murmurs. Jack barks a laugh. He pulls Hanzo away via the grip he has on him, not looking at the archer’s face as he begins opening his pants with the other hand.

“Should get myself an obedient cunt like that,” he murmurs. “But I’m not ready to settle down yet. Women are always so goddamn picky about everything. Think you got a good catch with yours, though. You’re not picky, are you?”

His cock is out and suddenly his blue eyes snap back to Hanzo’s face, a smug grin spreading on his face when he catches Hanzo staring near mesmerized at the faintly flushed cock in front of him. Paler skin than Jesse’s, and not as thick, but still plenty interesting.

Jack slaps him with three fingers; hard enough to make a showy, loud slapping noise while Hanzo grunts more in surprise than in pain.

“I asked you something, bimbo.” And then, without missing a beat: “Yeah, you’re not picky. Doesn’t Jesse give you enough dick? You sniffing around for cocks behind his back when you’re supposed to clean the house and do the laundry?”

He does not expect Hanzo to talk, obviously. He already has him pulled forward, his grip in the dark hair unrelenting and harsh and domineering everything as he drags him onto his cock and pushes deep, listening to the wet gagging and watching the desperate, instinctual struggle before Hanzo’s training kicks in and he obediently lets himself get used.

Already, his nose is running and his eyes are suspiciously wet as Jack keeps him down just to listen to the click of his throat and the badly suppressed gagging.

Jesse is laughing next to them now, full bellied and carefree – like he’s heard the best joke in the world and isn’t idly sitting by while Hanzo struggles for air until the Commander finally lets him go to breathe.

“She’s a good girl. Don’t be so harsh, Commander. I fill ‘er up plenty. Give her li’l womb somethin’ t’ work with – but she’s greedy. Always knew that. No problem with that, to be honest.”

“Clever man,” Jack nods, staring intently in Hanzo’s dark eyes, pupils blown wide. “I think we can have a lot of fun. I can take care of you when your husband is… indisposed.” He laughs when Hanzo whines and licks sloppily at the wet tip of his cock, trying to noisily slurp it back into his mouth. “But I’ll have you know that I’ll be a lot stricter than he is. Gotta have myself a pretty little lady waiting for me when I come home. Want a nice ready cunt to pull on my dick whenever I want…”

Hanzo’s face goes slack, mouth open wide and tongue out obediently as Jack slaps his cock against it, wiping the salty pre-cum against the soft insides of his cheeks.

“Are you going to be a good girl?”

They both laugh when Hanzo tries to answer without closing his mouth, a degrading sound of raw need croaking from him as he drools, hands kept prim and proper in his lap – on top of the apron.

Ooh, Rumlow/Bucky dirtybadwrong is my jam. Just imagining Brock playing with Bucky while at a safehouse, dressing up the winter soldier in frilly lace for kicks, the large man straining the silky fabric. Making Bucky sit on his lap,, thick cock sliding along that sweet ass, watching the fucktoy move mechanically. Until Brock whispers some kind of trigger word, and suddenly, Bucky is horny and desperate and begging, willing to do anything, anything for that cock to be in his ass, in his mouth.

ooooohhh. yeeeeessss. there’s another one that’s really good, too… I’ll take a turn at it later

Brock has never played with dolls or anything, because he’s a man ~~and his father would’ve beaten the shit out of him~~, but sometimes he thinks there might’ve been a damn fine fashion designer somewhere in his little boy heart.

“Turn,” he says. Curt and well-enunciated because that’s how one spoke to the asset during missions. Clear and uncomplicated instructions that were easy to follow. He still felt high on adrenaline, cock fat and painful in the thick material of his mission gear, but he wouldn’t miss this for the life of him.

Seeing the thing move in a short, perfunctory circle, muscles tense and power contained just for Brock’s personal satisfaction. He tried pale blue this time, but he feels like that isn’t its color even though he loves the style of the babydoll. The tiny straps across round, muscled shoulders – the strong pecs that look barely contained in the fabric.

The asset looked like a million dollar slut. The fabric barely brushed the tops of its hairy thighs, and Brock feels torn on whether or not he should shave it. He definitely did need to give it a bath, its hair was stringy and gritty again.

He dismissed the thought in favor of staring at the darkness between those powerful legs. He put the asset into little panties but now he’s not satisfied with it anymore and his cock pulses in almost angry assent; squirts out sticky pre-cum into his shorts before he can hastily open up those fucking tight pants and get it out in the air.

“Pants off,” he instructs, voice already deeper. More desperate. He can see the asset reacting to the impatience in his tone. Something glitters in the dark eyes, and there’s a twitch in the scruffy jaw just before it starts moving almost a little too quick. It only hooks the warm, pink fingers in underneath the babydoll. The metal arm – as useful as it was usually – didn’t have the finesse not to rip the delicate lace.

As the asset steps out of the tiny panties, Brock idly thinks that, yes, maybe something darker next time. Something chocolate-y brown, maybe.

He grins as the asset’s cock comes into view. Just the vulnerable tip peeking out from beneath the frilly edge. Its cock looks heavy and pink, even soft as it was. Brock squeezes his own dick in his fist, thumb and forefinger pinching the swollen head almost painfully as he stares and jerks himself.

“Turn,” he grunts again, and then a hoarse, “STOP” when its in profile; when Brock can see the swell of its ass lifting the back of the babydoll, the silky bow there just accentuating the asset’s best… asset. hah.

No ounce of fat on the whole thing and still that ass….

There is more movement in the fabric now. The asset is as nervous and beautiful as a thoroughbred. Eyes rolling and trying to get a look of its handler. Trying to understand why he’s getting more and more agitated; its leashed mind not allowing it to even register the fat cock Brock was stripping in harsh, almost violent pulls.

Maybe it was time to… unleash it. Brock wasn’t unreasonable, after all. He was a good handler.

“Freigeist.”

It had been hard to train a new word into the asset. The scientists didn’t think it practical to have him loose and pliant – almost playful and cute, if you thought the desperate, anxious type was adorable. Brock thought, that it was funny; and that it was fun to use a German word. It was almost… poetic for the whole thing. For the whole life of the asset.

He watches those big, round shoulders get loose, fingers carefully flexing at its sides as the thing turns and fixes his cock with such utter hunger, it sends thrills down his spine.

“P…Please?”

He waits a little longer just to drag it out. Just to watch those dark, now animated eyes drink in every little motion of his fist pushing down his cock and dragging the foreskin with it until the head is there in the cool air of the safehouse – fat and shiny with slick.

The asset’s mouth is cherry red and silky looking in midst of its scruff as it drops open and emits the tiniest, hungriest sound.

Brock laughs and beckons it closer with the other hand.

“Awww c’mere you fuckin’ slut. Always so hungry for cock, aren’tcha?”