10th Batch Ko-Fi Fics: 8th Fill

Lucio/Zenyatta/Reaper(or anonymous slime monster) – Satyr!Lucio and Zenyatta; rape/rape play; dub con/non-con; tentacle sex; belly bulge – Lúcio and Zenyatta get so much more than they hoped for.

They knew they weren’t allowed to wander this deep into the forest, but the danger has only made it more enticing, and daring each other top hop deeper has been way too easy.

Sooner rather than later they’ve resorted to holding hands and staying close as they make their way through an underbrush too thick to hop any longer. They have to carefully place their small hoofs so their dainty fetters don’t get caught in the insidious vines curling about, but they’re still in good spirits.

The fear they feel is electrifying and keeps them alert, their long ears flicking around to listen to the crack of tree branches and the thump of other inhabitants walking around.

Every now and then Lúcio giggles nervously, pushing himself more into Zenyatta’s shoulder.

“Maybe we should go back now,” he whispers when it becomes clear that the encroaching darkness becomes thicker and thicker. They both have grown up in the forest, but neither can tell whether the darkness comes from the slowly setting sun or the woods themselves.

They’re a bit disappointed. The tales of the elders – meant as a warning but only stirring their nervous desire – have been keeping them on track for the most part. It seems, however, that the others have been wrong: there are no monsters in the deep forest that are just waiting to defile and wreck supple satyr fawns.

They glance at each other, cheeks flushed, and finally Zenyatta stops and sighs.

“Yes. We should go back.” He squeezes Lúcio’s hand: a promise for them to play afterwards and make up for the disappointment – when suddenly the predator that has been following them for a couple hours makes his presence known.

.o.

It’s exactly what they’ve been angling for, but actually being wrapped up in slimy tentacles, no way to escape their slippery, unrelenting halt, is… quite scary.

They bleat at each other in distress, held apart just enough that they can watch but not touch, and the monster that has them in their grasp chuckles.

“What tasty little toys,” it purrs. There are a few mouths and a hundred eyes appearing and disappearing in the black mass that has come out of the underbrush. There are so many sharp teeth, but none of them have nipped at their kicking flanks yet.

“So… juicy…” Black tendrils curl around Lúcio’s thighs – plumper than Zenyatta’s – and pull them apart until Zenyatta can just about see the tender pink of his hole hidden in chocolate brown fur.

They’re manhandled around, dainty fetters restrained and pulled apart at the creature’s leisure who seems very interested in those hidden, warm little spaces beneath their fluffy tails.

Their arms have been twisted against their backs as they are suspended in the air, close enough to feel each other’s breaths on their faces and see their hot, embarrassed flushes as slick tendrils begin pushing into them sleek and without hindrance.

Soon enough they are bleating for whole different reasons: their guts filled with the writhing, undulating mass, holes spread wider than they’ve ever been before as they get rocked in their tethers by the creatures amorous thrusts.

There’s drool slicking from the corner of Zenyatta’s mouth, and Lúcio’s cherry red tongue is lolling against his chin. Their fur is a wet, sticky mess from the monster sliding across every inch of their bodies.

“Ah… p-please… mercy,” Zenyatta whimpers when he feels like there is no way he’ll fit even one more inch inside him. He feels like the creature must have advanced right into his belly. Whenever he looks down, he can see the grotesque bulge there; how he looks like he’s carrying two, if not three little fawns.

It is scary.

And so… *good*…

The creature around them just chuckles. A few mouths appear, grinning wide, then disappear. There are always eyes watching them greedily.

“No more!” Lúcio cries out suddenly, struggling anew. Zenyatta, glancing at him with a feverish stare, can see how new tentacles have started parting the thick fur on his companion’s crotch; showing off his sleek, dark red cock and the tight, furry balls beneath. When the tentacles start caressing him there, Lúcio sobs, helplessly bucking into the touch.

Trying to fuck it.

As Zenyatta stares, he can feel the same happening to him.

They are so desperately, intimately full, they feel like the creature will spill back out of their mouths any second now, and still it is stuffing more and more inside of them, fucking them, bouncing them on itself and ruining their tight little holes with its insane stretch.

They bleat weak and pathetic, a flush of humiliation and lust hot on their cheeks. They come so easy for it, even as they beg for mercy and to be released; creamy little loads coating the thick fur on their thighs; one, two, three until they start sobbing in earnest, feeling like their hearts might explode from the stress.

They like playing with each other; sticking a face beneath the other’s perky tail to lap and suck at him until he comes, purring and soft; doing it again and again until they’re sticky and sated… but they’ve never been this… debauched. This… relentless. They’ve never been *fucked* before; used like warm sleeves and nothing but breeding mares.

It will be long until the black mass shudders and starts pumping them full. Even longer until they can stumble their shameful way back into their home, their bellies still so round with the creature’s load sloshing in their guts…

7th Batch Ko-Fi Fics: 3rd Fill

Soldier76/Zenyatta/Lúcio – continuation of this fic – contains coercion, non-con/dub-con, dirty talk, humiliation/degradation – Jack has the two of them at his home to perform for his pleasure…

It has almost been too easy to get them to the point they are now at: softly humping on Jack’s unmade bed, pressing suckling little kisses against each other’s mouth while he sits behind the camera and films the whole thing.

It’s like they had almost been waiting for it. Like they had hoped someone would eventually stumble across them and unveil them as the dirty little tramps they really are. It would have taken all the fun out of having power to lord over them if watching them didn’t provide him with so much satisfaction.

“Yeah, you like to perform, don’t you?” he murmurs finally when he’s looked through the lens one last time to make sure they were nicely framed, then he takes a step back to watch the action unfold properly before him.

Zenyatta’s cheeks have flushed a nice dark red, and there’s a bit of a frown between Lúcio’s brows. At least they have the decency to look mildly ashamed by their whorish conduct. Jack pushes a hand unselfconsciously into his shorts and strokes his cock slowly, leisurely. He has all the time in the world, after all.

When Zenyatta twists his hips minimally away, ostensibly to lighten the pressure against his cock, Jack can see how tented both of their tight leggins already are. They’re as into the situation as he is, even if they played demure and horrified in the beginning. As he watches, the bright yellow-and-green pants Lúcio has donned slowly sport a wet patch where his dick is drooling into the fabric.

“Fucking sluts,” Jack grunts. It sounds disgusted even though it gets him off, and the flush on Zenyatta’s cheeks quickly spreads out to his ears.

He lifts his thigh – long and slender, just like the rest of the boy – and pushes his knee over Lúcio’s hip. Jack makes his way over to is old ratty armchair and plops into it, feet propped on the edge of the bed, not far away from the pretty boys making out for him.

“Sit on him,” he suggests and feels a spike of unholy pleasure when Zenyatta *does*, shoving himself astride Lúcio’s hips, their mouths finally separating with a wet little pop that goes straight to Jack’s balls. Their lips are plump and soft looking. Like they would look gorgeous around his dick.

He wonders if the little sluts even know how to treat a *real* cock. He’ll find out later.

They dry fuck for him, making little breathy sounds that seem straight out of some softcore porn. They drag their little cocks against each other, bulges pressing and rubbing and squishing as they get a bit needy and desperate in their need.

They even look at each other like they got stars in their fucking eyes. Lúcio’s hands are all over Zenyatta, squeezing at his small ass and supple thighs and urging him to grind down harder. Maybe make their little cute dicks hurt a bit… and how interesting of a thought is that?

But they also seem to have forgotten Jack, which… does not sit well with him. He frowns, thumb smearing across the crown of his dick, the tip of his pointer finger idly nudging its way into his foreskin to feel how much wetness has gathered in there already.

He rudely shoves one foot against Zenyatta’s hip, jostling both boys out of their lovey-dovey little bubble they’ve sequestered themselves into. When they glance at him, he makes a motion with his free hand.

“I wanna see you do a sixty-nine. Don’t get those little dicks out, though.”

He should be more adventurous, maybe – they *are* yoga teachers, after all, and nice and flexible – but for the moment he wants to simply bask in the fact that they do everything he tells him to.

They scramble to obey. They look lovely, faces stuffed with each other’s bulge, mouths greedy as they start licking and suckling through the thin fabric of their leggins. He slowly jerks himself as he watches them play for him, and has to stop once or twice just to let the feeling of orgasm recede again.

He feels delirious, almost in trance as he watches them. Listens to them. They are nasty little boys that make a lot of noise, and he *loves* hearing their little slurping sounds and sighs and thoughtless hums as they get more breathless, more eager. More needy. Their slim hips start shifting, motions getting a bit more sharp and demanding.

They want to shoot their nasty little loads, that much is obvious – and Jack could come just from the fact that they have to wait for *him* to give them the okay.

“Stop,” he croaks finally. They turn their heads towards him, staring, cheeks dark with a flush, mouths hanging open to pull enough oxygen into their lungs. He catches Lúcio’s gaze travel down towards the big cock in his fist, and Jack grins slow and satisfied. Of course they would crave the real thing after getting themselves riled up with each other’s little toy.

“Come here and suck my dick.”

They crawl towards him like kittens, sitting pretty between his thighs and getting at his dick like they are starved. He notices them holding hands, but does not have enough brain power to tell them to stop that because Zenyatta is slurping noisily at his foreskin while Lúcio is sucking one of his balls into his mouth, and *fuck* he is in heaven.

Master, Kneeling

shakenjester:

@cyberratting because idek. I think you’d enjoy this.

It had been a stressful week. Hana had been injured on a mission, Lucio had to juggle taking care of everyone’s sexual needs on his own, he hadn’t met his self imposed deadline for the new album, and he had done three missions of his own.

It was no wonder when he found himself knocking on Zenyatta’s door.

Mirrored on AO3

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ooohhh this was sooo nice! Lúcio being a sweet pet and Zenyatta a gentle dom ❤ ❤ beautiful! thank you very much I did enjoy this a looooot *heart eyes*