For the baby prompts! Pup McCree popping his knot early and embarrassing himself when pack Alpha Gabe presents to him for the first time (kinda a continuation of that pup McCree fic you did a while back) thanks boo

“What are you waiting for, kid?” Gabriel twists his hips at the waist sinuously, swerving his ass in a way that should be illegal. “Don’t got all day…”

It is enticing for sure – especially coupled with the spicy, warm Alpha smell permeating the air; thick enough that Jesse wants to follow it to the source and sniff and lick at the big man’s junk.

Gabriel looks back over his shoulder. The kid is not a kid anymore. Not really. Jesse is big, shoulders bulky and hips still boyishly slim. He’s hairy, too – especially under the arms where he is stupidly proud of it; and Gabriel’s belly does a slow, delicious flip when he watches him stand there, all bravado gone, hand’s on his dick as if to shield it.

Gabriel twists his hips again; sees how Jesse’s dark eyes follow the motion, his wide mouth dropping open to taste the pheromones in the air.

“Jesse,” he sing-songs with a smooth, coaxing voice, angles his knees farther apart. “Come here.”

Jesse jerks to life and follows the command obviously on autopilot. He is drilled to obey his commander’s voice, and Gabriel preens as he sees the flush on his cheeks.

The kid kneels behind him, big hands on Gabriel’s hips, and he can hear him breath out forcefully when he stretches cat-like and lowers his upper body down, arms outstretched before him.

Relaxed. Unconcerned about presenting like this to another Alpha. To feeling Jesse’s fat cock slide along his crack.

“Boss,” Jesse murmurs and shuffles closer; he gets his slim hips practically plastered against Gabriel’s ass, his hipbones sharp against him. Still needs to be fed some more, this one.

“You like this?” Gabriel asks, watching him over his shoulder. He can feel the wetness of Jesse’s dick; tacky and warm against his tailbone. Jesse nods wordlessly and swallows hard. Leans across Gabriel’s back and whines when he can’t blanket him like he is probably used to from Omegas and their generally smaller figures.

Instead, he curls his arms around Gabriel’s torso and holds on for dear life as he starts to jackrabbit against him; fucking the cleft of his ass.

It is not what he wants, exactly, but he still purrs for him. Gabriel knows when to use a treat instead of reprimands.

It is only when Jesse suddenly falters, his little whines taking on a decidedly desperate edge that Gabriel realizes maybe letting him rut like this hasn’t been a good idea after all.

Before he can buck him off and make him calm down, there is the hot splash of cum against the small of his back, Jesse fucking like a man much younger than he, biting at Gabriel’s shoulders and neck as he knots the fucking air like a pup.

“McCree,” Gabriel groans, forehead falling against the sheets, annoyed and still hot for a fuck, and quietly pleased with how much he has been able to rile Jesse up with so little.

Jesse just whimpers, and presses his hot, humiliated face between Gabriel’s shoulder blades.

My Ko-Fi

Jesse is a tactile motherfucker; he likes to kiss and snuggle while he’s fucking, but the moment he leans down onto his elbows to get a little closer to the dark mass beneath him, a maw shoots out from it towards his biceps.

“Hey now,” he scolds, reaction quick even though he can’t quite think straight with his cock gripped tight and almost too hot within Gabriel. “None of that.”

The rebuke is gentle enough but Reaper recoils like a kicked dog, the sharp teeth retreating quickly, and his form solidifying once more until Jesse can feel thick, strong thighs around his hips, holding on for dear life.

He’s not tried to bite out of malice, Jesse understands that well enough; he simply tends to get overwhelmed when he gets dick, going near liquid and needy when McCree stuffs him.

“There you go,” he croons, leaning down and nosing along Gabriel’s jaw. It’s still weird to see him without a mask; his face a bit more pale than Jesse was used to, but his dark eyes are wide and desperate just the same, his thighs squeezing until the pressure hurts around his hips.

“You love my cock, don’t you?” He leans down once more, now that Reaper seems to have more control of himself, and rubs their cheeks together to let him feel the rough bristle of his beard.

He reaches down, grabing hand fulls of Gabriel’s gratifyingly fat ass and hoisting him up a bit more into his thrusts.

It is more work than he usually likes, but Reaper has been fussy the whole time and he feels like having him sit on his dick would be akin to giving it off for good, so he decided to put him on his back and do the work instead.

Gabriel thanks him by rippling around his cock like the well-seasoned whore he is and suckling hickies into his shoulders, mouth wet and as uncomfortably hot as his ass.

“Yeah… yeah you love my cock. You’re so hungry for it… Could give it to you when I’ve taken the edge of that itch, hmm? When I’ve scratched where it tingles, and got you nice and filled with my cock. Can let you suckle on it and choke on my dick and give you all the cream you could ever ask for.”

He yearns for a goddamn smoke, his teeth aching with the need to chew on something while he concentrates on not coming too quickly. Reaper is hanging on to his every word, growling low in a way that sounds like the murmuring of an eldritch god.

It unnerves Jesse when he listens to it too much, so he tends to fill the silence by babbling whatever comes into his head.

“Gonna give it to you nice and good. Just like you need.”

(Glad to hear you’re feeling better!) Blackwatch Gabriel whipping Jesse’s ass to welts with his ridiculous BAMF belt after he says something particularly bratty about him in front of the other soldiers. Either bent over the desk in Reyes office or just in public where everyone can see jesse crying like a baby, idk XD nonnie has a corporal punishment kink. Either way, Jesse isn’t feeling particularly ‘bamf’ afterwards and blushes/thinks of hot angry reyes every time he puts on his belt.

Blood is dripping thick from Jesse’s mouth. He’s on his best way to biting through his tongue and doesn’t even feel it. There’s another slap and he jerks, hands sliding in the mess of drool and blood on the table, arms nearly giving way.

The smack of the belt is loud and meaty, resounding across the yard. There are people watching, he knows dimly, but nobody is making a sound. Everybody is eager to hear the next smack – the next impact of his own belt across his ass and the spread of his thighs.

His ass feels raw and Reyes’ hand on the small of his back is like a branding iron. Warm and grounding and so gentle for once. Like he’s almost sorry Jesse is a stupid son of a bitch and how he knows he can’t help his smart mouth.

The next slap has Jesse feel the brunt of the thick metal buckle and for the first time he screams – a spray of blood spewing from his mouth, one hand sliding away for good and chin connecting hard with the wood.

He passes out from the impact or something because everything is fuzzy for a while and needs time to drift back into focus. He feels Reyes palming the ruin of his ass and hears the jangling of his belt when he lets it idly swing in his big fist.

“You know to behave yourself next time, don’t you, McCree?”

“S…. Suh….”

He doesn’t know if it’s enough – but he feels weight slowly lowering onto his back and hears the heavy foot steps of the Commander walking away; letting McCree stand with his pants down and his ass out, his belt lying on his back coiled like a sleeping snake.

Toys exist to get played with when one is bored.

Gabriel was often bored when there was no mission around; no target to eliminate.

Ergo, it was only logical that he acquired himself some toys to play with on his downtime. They were good toys, too. Durable. Flexible. Pathetic and needy.

He has his boots propped up on his window sill, eyes sliding lazily from the slits in the blinds towards McCree gasping on his narrow bed. Every now and then he jerks with an abrupt twitch, a high, reedy whine dragging out of his throat.

His face was as sweaty as the rest of his body. A good amount of it was plain and simple fear, even though his body was keyed up, his brainless cock bobbing hard and painful in the air whenever Reyes pressed the button again and watched his toy convulse on the sheets.

“Again,” he purrs. He doesn’t always give McCree a warning. Sometimes he just likes that short look of fear and resignation before another wave seizes the long body. McCree was still lanky as a boy. So young and tender. Only trying to grow into the massive size his chest promised he could be with enough discipline. (Reyes would be his discipline. The boy should fucking thank him on hands and knees and with his tongue on his boots.)

McCree can’t breathe for the long agonizing seconds that the electricity courses through his body, the muscles in his belly clenching and relaxing in sharp little bursts. The nodes were attached down his sensitive sides. (Reyes couldn’t wait for the moment he would burst into tears when his commander gently petted fingers down his ribs. Already, the boy was flinching away from these touches.)

The second Reyes’ thumb lifts from the button, McCree pulls in a sharp, gasping sob. Tears have been sliding down his temples and into his long, brown hair. He is sniveling and snotty, but his cock is still bouncing ridiculously up and down. He is not allowed to touch his dick – that, at least, he’d learned fairly quickly.

“Come here,” Reyes orders. Seeing McCree gasp for breath and cry like a bebé was only fun for so long. He watches McCree blink crusty eyes and wheeze as he tries to get his muscles under control and drag himself out of bed.

He crawls over on trembling arms and ducks automatically beneath Gabriel’s legs. Reyes grunts in acknowledgement and shifts his boots apart on the window sill and slides a little down in his chair to give McCree unhindered access.

“Having fun, little boy?” Reyes asks him, one hand in his shaggy hair to keep him away from just nose diving into his commander’s crotch.

McCree stares at him with blank eyes for a few moments before he blinks them clear. He slowly nods against the hold, jaw working like he wants to say something, but ultimately deciding against it.

Reyes laughs at him and lets go of his hair. He leans back into his chair with a sigh, eyes closing as McCree hungrily presses his face into his ass crack, mouth greedy and open as he presses it against his commander’s hole. Moments later, he tilts his head back and lets Reyes’ balls drag across his face with a low delirious groan.

Reyes is playing with the remote to the nodes in his hand. He knows McCree can see it out of the corners of his eyes. He likes keeping his toy on edge and guessing.

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.

yo yo yooooo @abakkus

“You want to eat him out, don’t you?” Jack was crouching closely behind Reaper, one hand curled around his throat, thumb rubbing along the edge of the collar he was wearing. His other arm was slung around Reaper’s waist, giving him his too loose fist to fuck into.

Reaper’s head fell back against his shoulder with a low groan, hips jerking into Jack’s hand.

“Yessss….”

“You’ll have to lose your mask for that.” Jack’s voice was gentle, but resolute. He’d not let Reaper get away with it.

When Reaper hesitates, breath audibly hitching, Jack’s eyes travel towards McCree who is decadently spread out before them and lazily jerking off to the sight of Reaper being torn between keeping his last shield, and getting his face between his hairy cheeks.

“I think he’ll need a little more incentive. How about you give ‘im a little show?”

McCree grins sharp, and lopsided. He’s not having a cigar in the corner of his mouth but he’s still compensating for it anyway. It makes him look idiotic and endearing at the same time.

Jesse has no hangups with being lewd. He shifts and hooks his hands beneath his knees to pull them up and apart, before he thinks better of it and lets go with one to reach down to his ass.

Jack watches as McCree pulls one cheek to the side, showing them his hole. When he slides his fingers further in so he can circle it slow and steady, Reaper makes a sound like a kicked dog.

“Looks tasty, doesn’t it?” McCree laughs and lets go of his other leg as well so he can pinch his own nipple and tug on his chest hair. He’s still a fucking kid when compared to them, but he’s filling his role admirably. Reaper moves against Jack’s restraining hands; a wall of solid, shockingly cool muscle.

Jack curses low and grips him tighter, the line of his dick slowly, tantalizingly sliding along Reaper’s ass crack.

“Your mask, Gabriel,” Jack warns – and just like that, Reaper is Gabriel. He growls and sounds pissy and impatient, his hand fumbling with the straps and ripping it violently from his face.

He surges forwards once more, and this time Jack lets him go.

“Holy shit!” McCree shouts and laughs at the same time, one hand curled tightly into Gabriel’s dark, short curls, holding on for dear life as Reyes presses his face between his cheeks with what could only be described as the groan of a starving man.

Jack moves to the side, watching as Gabriel noses Jesse’s balls out of the way before he couldn’t be bothered anymore and just lets them rub across the bridge of his nose because he’s too busy sucking and licking at McCree’s hole.

“Help him,” Jack orders, voice hoarse and as authoritative as it was on the battlefield. Jesse obeys without thinking – reaches for his junk and holds it out of the way while he rides Gabriel’s enthusiasm out.

His eyes are glassy and his mouth dropped open in an ‘o’ of dumb surprise.

Gabriel, for his part, is single minded and greedy. He’s licking and sucking; getting the space between Jesse’s cheeks wet with spit as he presses his face in further and further, as if he’s trying to smother himself in McCree’s ass.

Jack feels stupidly fond as he lets a hand slowly slide along Gabriel’s spine and lovingly taps two fingers against his hole. He notes how Gabriel lifts his ass into the touch and it makes Jack feel warm in his belly.

“There you go. And when you’re done with him, I want a go as well. I’m gonna sit on your face if you want to. Do you want to?”

He hooks fingers into the back of Gabriel’s collar and pulls – but Gabriel fights against the drag, so he wouldn’t get dislodged from his perch. Jack still can hear the embarrassingly high whine of eagerness.

Jesse grins like he’s high, hand just holding onto his junk; he looks like he forgot to jerk himself off, and is just enjoying the ride for the moment.

Jack can’t wait for his turn.

spartadog:

The 6′1 Club

Reaper considers combat foreplay. He fights his prospective partners every time someone wants to get frisky. If he wins, which is most of the time, he gets to top. But if he loses, he’s the most enthusiastic sub you can imagine and melts into a gasping mess of breathless moaning. And it seems 76 and McCree got the better of him this time around.

Must be 6’1 to ride.

Reaper, Soldier: 76, McCree © Blizzard Entertainment
Art © SpartaDog
Please do not repost without permission or remove/edit the caption.

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