Tag: reaper/soldier76

kinkyarkhive replied to your post:
Please write some stuff with male lactation!!

R76 ! It’s been ages since you did them :“)

oh man you’re right, it has def been ages :O goddamn.

“Damn. Look at you. You been training?”

Reaper keeps close, dick pulsing inside the tight clutch, cum cooling on Soldier’s belly. It’s a short lull in their fucking; a rare sight of mercy as he lets the old man calm down and catch his breath. 

He can feel his pulse around his cock slowing down from the frantic gallop, insides still hot and wet and suckling as they relax a bit from their death grip.

What really has him interested is the sight of the Soldier’s tits, though. Meaty with muscle; bulging… plump, the faint pink nipples wet at the tips.

He remembers, somewhere in the back of his head, how they had been back in the day… always horny, always needy; how he’s been fixated on Jack’s tits then, even thicker as he’s been young; straining against his shirts. How he joked about having to get him a goddamn bra.

How he loved watching them bounce, and suckle on their tight tips.

Back then, he had fantasized about it; suckling for long enough that Jack’s body would respond; produce some milk for him.

And now he wonders whether Jack hadn’t secretly thought the same; hadn’t kept on training even with Gabriel seemingly dead.

The Soldier doesn’t answer. It is difficult to make out any kind of expression beneath his visor and mask. He turns his head away, grip tightening on Reaper’s shoulder and the side of his neck.

Gabriel turns his head, impatiently pushes his mask up against his shoulder until his mouth is freed.

“You’re a goddamn slut,” he hisses at him, cock surging within the tight, comfortable grip of Soldier’s body. He bares his teeth at him; lets him see the sharp fangs; and notices how a little more milk dribbles from the peaks of his tits.

He leans down, hips starting up a slow, swaying motion. He talks a big game, but he is gentle; almost making love to his old enemy as he latches on, eyes closing in bliss.

If Soldier notices it, he doesn’t say. He grunts low, and arcs his back; shoves his teat against Reaper’s mouth. The thought of Jack being his personal milk cow sends a jolt of arousal down his spine. His cock flexes again.

He fucks slow, trying not to loose the tight seal he has going on. He drinks in sharp pulls, trying to get as much milk as possible; though there is not much coming forth. The watery drops make him only hungrier.

He wonders if the Soldier’s body would produce more for him if he started nursing more often; more regularly. The thought makes him curl inwards a bit, belly tight, almost coming way too fast like a goddamn teen.

Jack’s tits had always been his downfall.

“Don’t cover your face . I want to see you.” R76?

“Don’t cover your face. I want to see you.”

The command is spoken with a certain bark; sharp and nearly aggressive as the Soldier tightens his grip around Reaper’s ankles and pushes them farther up until his feet hang in the air and his knees are nearly at his chest.

Reaper groans, hands twitching where he put them across his face. He is only half-undressed, the Soldier had been too eager to get at his hole, but Jack is more than ready to rectify the situation.

“Stop it,” he tells him again, then lets his legs fall onto his shoulders so he can shove at his shirt, fingers slipping on the clasps of his armor until he can finally ruck it up beneath his pits.

Reaper is watching him, eyes glowing a faint red between his fingers. He looks angry, yet still he lets himself get used obediently, lying back whenever Jack has a need – whenever he can’t stop staring at Reaper’s ass, fantasizing about that sweet, accommodating hole beneath. He’ll always spread his legs for Jack. The Soldier.

Always let him fuck him like a cheap whore; let him bark orders and follow them along like a mutt, eager to debase himself.

He is addicted to the burn of Jack’s cock; the stretch, and the pain that comes from his sharp, merciless fucking.

“Don’t cover your face,” Jack grunts again, a vein swelling on his forehead the more he exerts himself, fucking doggedly into the warm cunt –

and Reaper finally pulls his hands away; shows him how he dug his sharp teeth into his lips, trying not to whine as he gets fucked; red eyes a little wet as he stares at his own legs bouncing obscenely in the air.

It’s a little hard breathing like this – but at least he doesn’t need as much oxygen anymore.

what can I say; I just love cuckolding 76; I don’t know why

“Look how much he enjoys it,” Reaper’s voice is a sibilant hiss right into the good Soldier’s ear, both of them watching the display of Lúcio and Mako; the young man looking shockingly small in Roadhog’s embrace, back curved to a point of pain from the huge gut pressing into his back.

Roadhog shifts his short, sturdy legs apart and nudges his hips forward. He is not brutal in his fucking but he is negligent: holding Lúcio with one meaty hand hooked beneath his arm, the sausage-like fingers splayed across the young man’s chest.

Lúcio makes a soft sound when the cock is moved – a gurgling that almost seems like the coo of a pigeon as he embraces Hog’s huge forearm, holding on for dear life, his cock shiny at the tip and strings of sticky pre-cum slowly dripping to the floor.

The Soldier jerks forward at the strained noise but black tendrils curl around his biceps and pull him back.

“I said look, Morrison,” Reaper hisses dangerously, “not touch. What do you want to do anyway? You can’t give it to him as much as he needs it.”

Lúcio’s knees are trembling, his eyes looking glassy and wet. He seems close to crying, straining to push back and just managing a kitten weak shove. Roadhog snuffles – closer to a grunt – and moves his other hand, splaying it against the taut belly, the little finger just above the place where Lúcio’s abdomen was bulging gently from the cock nudging in deep and intimate.

“Your cock can’t do that,” Reaper hums. He sounds gleeful, one tendril sliding down and curling between the Soldier’s legs. “He’ll moan for you and whine and maybe even come but you know he does it just to humor you, don’t you? You couldn’t give it to him like that.”

Mako grunts softly again and lifts straightens from his hunched over position, simply lifting Lúcio with him, letting gravity work to sit him down the precious last inches of sturdy, fat cock he hasn’t been able to take yet.

Lúcio’s mouth falls open, cock jerking, legs feebly kicking as his feet lose connection to the ground.

“You know he’ll be thinking of this next time you try to wring a little pity orgasm out of him,” Reaper taunts, stroking the bulge he can feel, tendril lovingly cupping the hard ridge of the Soldier’s angry and reluctant erection. “Think of how wide he’s been spread on that fat cock. How it took days for his sweet little cunt to come back to normal. How good it hurt when that scary wide head finally popped it.”

The good Soldier is panting like a dog, watching Roadhog no longer fucking with his hips but with his hands, lifting and lowering Lúcio onto the short, wide cock – still long enough to push against his lower abdomen and give him a little belly.

“He’ll think of how warm he got filled. A nice, big load just for him alone. He’ll think of that the next time you rut him like a dog and leave him with just the unsatisfying afterglow of what he could really have.”

the result of the live-write :3 virgin!Gabriel acquainting himself with his prostate :’3

Gabriel is putting such an effort into keeping quiet – finger moving slow and silky inside his desperately clutching hole, trying not to make it do these embarrassing squelching sounds he’s heard whenever he was watching porn – he can actually hear the rasp of Morrison’s facial hair when he drags one broad hand across his mouth.

“Dang. I mean – I can help you out?” Morrison’s voice cracks on the last word. He sounds stupidly boyish and Gabriel can just imagine his painfully blue eyes fixed on his ass, watching him do… it.

Gabriel clenches his eyes shut and turns his head to press his face into the crook of his arm. His mouth is open to drag in enough air and still he feels like there’s just not enough oxygen in the room.

“Sh-shut up, Morrison,” he rasps. It’s a weak comeback. Under normal circumstances he would have come up with something – anything – better than a weak pre-school retaliation, but his rim is clenching down on a single finger of his own and it feels weird and to make matters worse, goddamn Jack Goldenboy Morrison is sitting behind him on the bed and watching with rapt attention.

He can almost feel his gaze like a physical thing.

It is embarrassing.

Whenever he glances down his belly, past the heavy weight of his half-hard, confused dick, he can see him sitting there, watching, boxer briefs tenting and wet where the tip of his cock is trying so very hard to escape.

“I mean… it’s just an offer,” Jack says. He sounds strangled. Pained.

His face looks the part, too, when Gabriel turns his head enough to glance around himself. His lips are pressed into a severe line, thick eyebrows drawn in concentration. He almost looks like he does in their briefings – only that his cheeks were a deep red, hair tousled from wrestling off his shirt: the perfect, endearing farm boy.

As Gabriel watches, Jack finally reaches down and slips those big fingers underneath the elastic band of his shorts. A quick adjustment later has the tip of his cock out, only the very tip peeking out of the foreskin pink and wet, and probably getting the dark blond hair beneath his belly button tacky.

Gabriel quickly turns his head back around, wiping his wet mouth deliriously against his forearm as he starts up moving his finger again – slipping it into himself and feeling the silky walls of his insides.

It’s not uncomfortable – certainly not painful – yet he starts to wonder what the big deal is about.

“I could do that for you,” Jack offers again, voice shot. The bed dips as he moves a little closer. Before Gabriel can muster up anything to say, he feels a large hand closing around his wrist. Shocked, he lets him direct him: changing up his angle and telling him to crook his finger until his own knuckle is rubbing rudely into his silky, hot insides. Gabriel chokes on his spit when a little shiver of feeling darts up his spine, making him dip it down instinctively. Jack groans.

“That’s it. Just like that. Fuck you got the best ass ever. Goddamn fat, gorgeous ass. I would’ve been honestly surprised if you weren’t sensitive as fuck down here.”

Gabriel’s head spins. His ears feel stupidly hot – as hot as the little muscle suckling eagerly at his finger. He clenches down and sweat springs up along his hairline when he hears Jack’s fierce mumble: “Yeah. So sensitive. Look at that sweet cunt you have. Gripping like a goddamn vice -”

“L-language,” he croaks, toes curling in sympathy with his finger as he tries to find that little spot again – that perfect little place that he had only graced with a glancing touch.

He wonders dimly if anybody knew how dirty Morrison’s mouth actually was. Perfect little farmboy swearing like a sailor the second he got excited; his single minded intent shutting off any filters.

Morrison doesn’t react to the admonishment – rather he lets go of Gabriel’s wrist in order to put both hands on his ass cheeks, gripping the generous muscle hard enough that it makes Gabriel grunt and rock forward, shoulders hunching up towards his ears when Jack’s palms slide down towards the backs of his thighs.

“I love your body,” he sighs. It sounds like a prayer and Gabriel doesn’t know what to do when Morrison’s hands slide reverently from his thighs back to his ass, gripping the swell of his hips and pushing up the curve into his waist just to feel the difference. He’s kneeling with a finger up his ass, trying – and failing – to find that sweet spot, his balls warm and heavy against the pulse point in his wrist, and Morrison is starting to worship him.

Gabriel jerks when he feels something bristly against the swell of his ass and it takes him looking hectically back to realize it’s Morrison’s cheek which he rubs against him like a cat.

“Could spend hours admiring your ass, Reyes. And your thighs. Holy shit. I think brass would’ve gotten rid of those ridiculous tiny gym shorts if you hadn’t enrolled. Heads turning just because they ride up your big, juicy thighs until nothing is left to the imagination…”

Gabriel closes his eyes. He has bitten into the flesh of his arm without realizing, the pain dull and throbbing and welcome.

When Morrison leans over and starts peppering kisses against the pouty rim of his hole, tongue darting out to drag wet and squirming around his stagnant finger, he doesn’t protest the hand anymore that closes around his wrist and gently tugs it away.

“You did so well,” Jack murmurs, “but I’ll show you how it’s done, hm? Pretty little virgin was squirming so nicely for me, but -”

He interrupts himself before Gabriel can turn around and smack him in the head for his stupid babbling, toes curling and belly feeling tight from how Jack was talking about him. To him. He couldn’t even tell whether he liked it or not. Christ, he is a mess.

Jack is, despite his crooning, gentle words, anything but. Gabriel cries out, back arching down and ass involuntarily lifting into the abuse when two broad fingers push in, barely slicked with spit and rubbing greedily at his hot insides.

His hands are fisted into the sheets, shoulders drawn up high and hips indecisive after that first initial shock from the push – jittery as they hunch down and lift up in aborted motions, already faux fucking himself on Morrison’s broad, intrusive digits.

“There you go. Holy shit you take it like a champ, don’t you? You’re so silky and wet inside. Used so much lube… Your hole is glistening like a pretty mouth with lip gloss.”

Morrison’s hand is rubbing along his spine; he can feel it slide through the tacky sweat gathered there. The tenderness makes his lewd words even more jarring. Gabriel’s eyes are glazing over, his jaw hurting with the fierce clench.

“Shut. Up. God,” he grinds out, embarrassed from the mental images and trying not to show it.

Morrison slips in deeper; slow yet inexorable, forcing Gabriel’s body to spread and accommodate for him. He takes what he wants like a rude little boy and Gabriel realizes he is – literally – drooling for the treatment, mouth open and tongue almost hanging out. His balls feel ripe and swollen – just a little too tender; too ready to unload.

“Yeah. That’s it. You’re doing so well. Fucking yourself on my fingers. You love it, don’t you? Just need someone else to play with your pretty snatch. Show you how good it can feel. How to do it.”

There’s a fog in Gabriel’s head, and it makes it hard to understand. He’s a highly intelligent man and yet it surprises him – downright baffles – him to realize that yes he is fucking himself back, body rocking, knees sliding farther apart on the slick sheets. He’s grinding like an animal, on all fours, grunting with each filling he gets, and he wants to kick at Morrison and make him sorry for… for… whatever, but he can’t make himself move other than those little, fluid thrusts that are gaining momentum the more confidence he has.

“Yeah you love it,” Morrison mutters, answering his own question. He is still petting Gabriel’s spine; up and down motions that are a little frantic by now, and Gabriel can no longer tell whether it is still only his sweat or Morrison’s fingers have become clammy as well.

He lets his head hang down and stares between his thighs, seeing Morrison’s dick, trapped by the elastic of his underwear, nearly dipping inside his shallow belly button.

Gabriel’s mouth floods with saliva as he thinks about suckling at the tip; slipping his tongue into the velvety folds of foreskin and lick up the gathered pre-cum. He’s never felt it this strongly before; only idle passing thoughts about whether he would like sucking dick. Morrison’s dick. Whether he would like swallowing.

He’s never felt it this strongly; this overwhelming need to rub a thick cock against his tongue, feeling the drag and weight of it push into the back of his throat until he was drooling too much and couldn’t swallow it down anymore.

He’s never-

“How about we try this?”

Gabriel’s body jerks before he has the chance of understanding Jack’s low voice, a gurgling shout ripped from him – more of surprise than anything – when Morrison suddenly moves and crooks his fingers, pressing them perfectly and with delicious precision at that spot Gabriel had been searching for.

Tears spring up in his eyes, a drawn out sound – something like “hhhaaahhhhh” – wheezing out of him. There’s a cramp in his right calf and he wants to pay attention to it but Morrison his humming and pushing again, fingertips dragging in little circular motions against the spongy wall of Gabriel’s insides, massaging into the gland he has found.

“That’s it,” Morrison murmurs, fingers spreading, putting off the pressure in favor of just teasing him with glimpses of it – Gabriel’s body suddenly feeling overripe. Juicy. Ready. He feels almost delirious with want, and his cock has fattened out almost without him noticing. “I knew you’d be like that. So sensitive. Couldn’t be anything less with that gorgeous ass. God Gabriel, the things I wanna do to you.”

Gabriel angles his shoulders down, face mashing into the rumpled sheets of the bed, low shivers sliding through his body in waves that start at the very tip of his head and end in his toes.

He doesn’t know whether he is afraid or giddy.

Yo!!! Little something for @hinoart because of her fuuucking sweet thicc Gabriel. uuuuunnnffff…. 

featuring adorably stupid Jack just being a slut for fat Reyes ass ❤ he’s such an overexcited puppy. I almost pity him.

Jack had been staring the whole fucking day and the worst was – Gabriel knew it. There was no way he had not noticed his unsubtle Indiana farmboy staring – how he’d stopped everything he was doing the second he’d spied Gabriel walking into the gym, mouth dropping open, eyes taking in the tiny shorts and the tanktop that was clinging for dear fucking life, goddamn Gabriel did you not have anything more fitting?! around the sheer breadth of his torso.

As he’d walked over, casual and bumping fists with other recruits, the small shorts had started to move up – sliding into the creases of his thighs, showing off the meaty, scarred swell of them and further cupping his crotch in a frankly obscene fashion.

Jack found himself wondering whether he was even wearing underwear. Staring – and trying so hard not to stare – he could make out the outline of Gabriel’s dick. Christ.

“Yo,” Gabriel grunted as he’d stepped closer, bending to plop his water bottle next to the workout machine and giving Jack another view of those tiny shorts riding up into the crack of his ass; plump looking and still pure muscle.

By now, they were alone in the gym – and still, Jack had not been able to calm the fuck down. Every time he thought he’d found his equilibrium, another little thing caught his attention: the way Gabriel’s thighs slipped and slid against each other, sweaty and trembling in exertion, the strong muscles in stark relief – no thigh gap to be had with this one… the way his shirt became all but see-through, his dark brown nipples on full display, the thin, straining fabric cupping the swell of his pecs… even dipping into the shallow valley of his belly button.

How the fuck was it even still holding up.

Hell, even the dark, wetly curling hair beneath Gabriel’s arms had taken his rapt attention, only drawn over in the first place by Gabriel’s low grunts of strain as he pushed weights with his goddamn fucking legs. He’d just barely caught himself before starting off on fantasizing about him pushing his face against Gabriel’s ribs and inhaling deeply….

“You’re a thirsty boy today, Morrison.”

He jerked, head snapping over again, staring with owl-eyes at Gabriel absolutely preening on the machine, sitting with his arms up and behind his head, his sweaty body on display – revealing clothes straining to fit around him.

Even his shorts were soaked with sweat. Jack could see the outline of his dick’s head. He could see fucking everything and wasn’t even shocked anymore to realize that Gabriel actually had gone commando – he was too preoccupied fantasizing about sucking Reyes’ dick sweat through the fabric.

“Want a taste?”

Jack’s hands curl into helpless fists on his thighs and release again. His cock is already pitching a ridiculous tent in his own loose shorts.

He nods helplessly – because what the fuck else was he supposed to do?

.o.

“Get in there. Yeah. That’s the ticket, farmboy.” 

Gabriel sounds smug and in charge and only the tiniest bit breathless. He’s kneeling carefully on the seat of the equipment, one finger hooked helpfully into the leg hole of his shorts, pulling it aside to give Jack access to the humid crack of his ass – and Jack fucking took that opportunity, burying himself deep enough to make Reyes grunt int surprise brace himself from the jostle.

He is drowning in Gabriel’s fat ass and thinks he will probably suffocate himself like an idiot because he doesn’t want to pull back and breathe.

His hands are on Gabriel’s thighs – those huge, unbelievable thighs – feeling them up; feeling them tense and get rock hard beneath his groping fingers.

His chin is nudging against the soft skin of the heavy, swinging balls that managed to slip out of the tight confines of the tiny shorts. Everything is hot and humid. Gabriel is laughing at him breathlessly; insulting him in rough sounding Spanish that he can’t understand but still makes his ears burn and his cock surge in his shorts.

“Maybe I’ll let you fuck me if you make this good, Morrison.” Gabriel sounds like he’s almost in tears from mirth. He’s angling backwards now, wide hips moving towards Jack, grinding his hole against his eager tongue.

Gabriel’s crack is wet with spit; his skin is silky and warm, the muscles of his ass buttery soft from Jack’s eager tonguing.

“You’d like that, asshole? Get your cock in my fat ass?”

Jack feels like an excited little goddamn dog. He makes an embarrassingly high whining sound and presses closer, hands trying – and hilariously failing – to get a good grip at the girth of Gabriel’s thick thighs. Gabriel howls with laughter, body shaking, grinding back more insistent.

“Yeah I know you want. Shit. You’re good at this, aren’t’cha? Ate a lot of ass out in the cornfields, farmboy?”

Jack wedges his hand between the strong thighs until Gabriel grunts and shifts his stance; one leg sliding off the equipment to brace himself on the floor and give Jack more room, his fumbling hand seeking and finding and cupping the heavy swell of his cock, wrist nudging against his swinging balls.

“That’s it. Fuck. If you can get me off on your tongue, you can fuck me, Morrison.”

No offer had ever sounded so good. So perfect. It gets him stupidly excited, the sheer thought of getting to wedge his dick between those hard, plump cheeks… of trying to fit into Gabriel’s ass, goddamn mounting him, legs spread wide to accommodate the width of his hips…

Fuck, it gets him going. Enough to… to…

Jack whines high in shocked desperation, hands scrabbling at his dick through his shorts, trying, trying-

and failing to do antyhing other than helplessly come in his underwear, cock spurting and flexing, abs clenching hard in an almost dizzying orgasm, his defeat only made worse by Reyes laughing at him while still grinding his ass against his face, demanding to be worshiped to the very end.

Jack clenches his eyes shut tight. They’re burning treacherously as he thinks about the chance he just lost.

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.