12th Batch Ko-Fi Fics: 11th Fill

Aizawa/Vlad King – virgin!Aizawa; touch starvation/skin hunger; gentle sex – Aizawa has a few hang-ups. Vlad has figured some of them out because of course they can’t talk like proper adults.

.o.

Aizawa looks… not nervous, per se, but distinctly apprehensive. Once upon a time Vlad had thought it had something to do with the sturdy fangs pushing out from his bottom lip, but by now he thinks he has a different answer, even if Aizawa would never say as much.

He is not apprehensive of getting hurt when Vlad presses his wide mouth against him and bites with carefully measured pressure – he *wants* to get touched and grabbed at, and very possibly manhandled around.

Aizawa is a little firecracker, vibrating beneath Vlad’s broad, substantial bulk whenever they find the time to make out, and his fingers scrabble at whatever he can find: the tight costume spread across Vlad’s chest, or the loose tracksuit bottoms he likes to wear when he’s not at school.

He radiates this nervous, hot energy that will explode out of him with a sudden intensity that has taken Vlad off guard the first time it had happened. He is needy and pushy, but in an underhanded way: he will pant wet and needy right into Vlad’s ear, but will not let his trembling fingers wander from their desperate clutch above his clothes.

He will make a sound like a whimper when Vlad carefully nudges thick fingers beneath his shirt, but will not say a word of denial about it.

Aizawa wants to be touched just as much as he fears it, and Vlad wants to bring it up multiple times, but can’t find the words for it. He is sure a jovial: ‘So… have ya ever taken dick before?’ will be met with icy silence or quiet scorn, but-

He is running in circles again. He can’t help but wonder every time he has Aizawa beneath him, warm and so goddamn needy in his quiet, strangely desperate way; it is easy to lose himself in his thoughts, wondering how many people have had him like this; mouth wet and panting against him, thighs carefully spreading for him – and he can’t help but think that *nobody* has had him; that Vlad is the first to tickle those breathless, high-pitched little sounds out of him.

That he is, depressingly enough, the only one touching him *at all*…

Aizawa grinding down on him has him finally jerk out of his musings. He stops sucking at the other man’s neck, the skin sliding from between his thigh lips wet and flushed red, as he feels the shy stutter of slim hips beneath him.

Aizawa has his slim legs curled around one of Vlad’s thick thighs and is letting him feel how excited the bit of teenage petting has gotten him. Vlad is almost embarrassed at how much it affects him in turn; how just feeling Aizawa’s cock grind against the large muscle of his thigh has his palms sweating and his belly do a low, delicious flip.

“Oh?” he whispers, right into Aizawa’s ear. Somewhere in the kitchen something crashes down when his dog fucks around, but he’s too interested in the current proceedings to go and have a look. “Like that? Hm?”

He presses down, giving Aizawa more pressure against his dick, and Aizawa whines canine like and high, his fists curling deeper into the loose shirt Vlad is wearing.

“I can give you more than that, you know…” They are not looking at each other; Vlad has his cheek pressed against Aizawa’s, feeling his stubble scratch against his skin. It is easier to talk like this; Aizawa will not shy away as much when he doesn’t feel like he’s being stared at.

“I can make you feel so good,” Vlad coos right against one hot little ear, his broad tongue coming out and dragging wet against it. Aizawa shudders, his hips jerking upwards into the hard pressure of his strong thigh. “I can give your sweet little hole something to clench around… give you a nice big dick to keep you warm from the inside… You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Have my cock inside you? Get your belly all hot?”

Aizawa is panting wet and quick, punctuated with small sounds at the end. He is trembling and feverishly hot. Vlad almost wants to back off; say it was just a joke, that he does not want to *push*, but then Aizawa talks; just one word with his deep, hoarse voice – but it is more than Vlad needs.

“Please…”

.o.

Vlad has to blink the sweat out of his eyes. His blood feels too hot; like it is trying to boil over and crawl out of him; get all over Aizawa and hold him in a snug little package while he carefully tries to fuck just the tip of his dick into the tight clutch of his body. He hasn’t had trouble keeping his Quirk in check since middle school, but having Aizawa whine and tremble, his ass curved up into his hips as he awkwardly tries to bear down on Vlad’s cock and pull away at the same time.

“More… more-” he pants, and at first Vlad had thought he wants more cock; quicker. Deeper. Now he knows he wants more *touch*. Wants Vlad to press down on his back while he’s carefully trying to fuck the tip of his dick into his little virgin cunt.

Wants him to crush him into the cushions of Vlad’s big couch while his pup has curled up in his spot in the corner and is snoring softly away.

He wants to be crushed and surrounded and feel as much skin as possible as Vlad tries to squeeze something *way too fucking big* into a space that is *way too fucking small*.

He seems already so *content* though; even with his cock hard and pushing into the firm cushions of Vlad’s couch… even with Vlad probably constricting his breathing something fierce, and his almost fumbling attempt to fuck him open on dick, Aizawa nearly fucking *purrs* beneath him, happy with the whole situation.

Aizawa might be an obstinate bastard most of the time, with a highly infuriating class to boot – but Vlad needs to keep this one close by.

9th Batch Ko-Fi Fics: 9th Fill

McCree/Junkrat – body worship; skin hunger; past abuse; hurt/comfort – McCree and Junkrat are rather alike…

“No need to be so hectic. I ain’t going nowhere soon, kiddo.”

Jesse stares amusedly down at Jamison, noting absently that the kid must have showered because his patchy blond hair seems brighter than usual and there is a distinct overall lack of soot on his body.

Jamison snatches his hands away where they had been splayed against McCree’s hairy, muscled belly. He *does* look like a rat in that moment; hands curled uncertainly in front of his slim chest, glancing up through his bushy eyebrows.

Jesse rumbles, stretching and pushing one arm behind his head. Unselfconsciously showing off the meaty flex of his bicep and the thick patch of hair underneath.

“Don’t give me that look. Everything’s alright. Just take it a bit slower, yeah? Don’t got anywhere to be, really.”

Jamison’s face twists into something ugly for a second but Jesse would have no hope of deciphering all those little expressions flitting across the kid’s face. He’s a surprisingly complicated young man. There’s a lot of damage that had been done to him. Jesse suspects he would have ended up much the same if Reyes hadn’t pulled him out in the nick of time.

Maybe that’s why he has such a soft spot for the guy.

Jamison has yet to run his quick mouth and Jesse suspects he will not for quite some time. When confronted with the opportunity to get his hands on Jesse’s body, he always becomes curiously quiet.

When nothing else happens other than the the cigarillo lighting up slowly as Jesse takes another puff, Jamison relaxes once more.

Jesse can see every twitchy muscle beneath the tight stretch of Jamison’s skin. He’s not put on any weight as far as Jesse can tell. He’s still so thin that he feels like his sharp bones might be slicing through his skin any second now.

When he reaches down, he can let his fingers trail across each bump of Jamison’s spine. The kid freezes where he is crouched above Jesse’s chest and seems to stop breathing until Jesse gives him a pat with his warm palm and takes his hand away again. Only then does Jamison take up his exploration again.

He has a certain kind of fascination with Jesse’s hair. He likes dragging his fingers – even the artificial ones – through it just to feel how crisp and coarse they feel. He sometimes delicately takes a few hairs between his fingertips and tugs on them, though never near hard enough to pull them out.

He also likes to cup Jesse’s muscles; squeeze them. Feel how round and firm they are…

It’s not really sexual. Not from what Jesse is used to, though he can see the faint outline of Jamison’s cock in his baggy pants. Jamison’s world, he has to remind himself again and again, is different from what other people perceive.

Sometimes he has a detached, glassy look in his bright eyes when Jesse’s fingers slip beneath his belt; and other times he gets short of breath and flushed when Jesse pets across his head in what is almost a fatherly gesture.

He always becomes very calm, however, when Jesse smokes. He likes the smell of it; the heat that the cigarillo emanates. Jesse is suitably sure that Jamison would probably get painfully hard, maybe would be able to shoot off from the sensation of getting a cigarette put out against his skin, but he does not want to try that shit (…yet…).

Jamison leans down, breathing against Jesse’s skin. Ruffling the hair. He’s close to one of Jesse’s nipples, but he does not show any interest in it, even when it becomes hard and needy. He stars sniffing at him, then outright presses his mouth and nose against Jesse’s skin and breathes him in.

It is awkward and tickling. He suspects it’s the scent of smoke, ingrained into him, that is so alluring for the young man, but he can’t be sure.

Just when Jamison looks like he’s going to spend *quite some time* just inhaling Jesse, he moves in one fluid motion, putting the junker beneath him.

Jamison looks startled for a second, then… something else. A mix between anger and concern. His eyes flick towards the door where they both know his bodyguard is just beyond. Waiting for his boss to *conclude business*.

Jesse ignores the show of distrust and slowly, carefully lies himself down on Jamison’s long, thin body. It’s not the most comfortable of surfaces – several sharp bones are poking him – but it’s not about going to sleep, anyway.

He ignores the sharp, slightly panicked intake of air beneath him, or the way Jamison’s hands curl claw-like across his shoulders, and lets him feel just enough of his weight to make breathing a bit more difficult.

Jamison goes cross-eyed and makes a sound for the first time; a weak squeak that has the floor outside of the room creak ominously as the Hog shifts his weight.

Then he becomes quiet again, his eyes taking on a rather dreamy look as the heat and weight of Jesse’s body registers.

Jesse is not unfamiliar with skin hunger. What he can give is likely way too late at this point, but he does not have a problem with sharing himself anyway.

This isn’t even nsfw or anything, but I have many feels about this so whatever. Junkrat. Lil baby Jamie who’s lived in a nuclear wasteland since he was a toddler, fighting for survival and not trusting anyone. And then he meets Roadhog, and later the people of Overwatch. And suddenly there are all of these lovely caring people around him asking if he’s eaten today and giving him hugs and shit, and the poor touch starved boy is so overwhelmed and clings onto any affection he can get. Help me.

this is a very cute HC. I like it^^